“Come for me again, baby,” I growl in her ear.
“I can’t, Walker,” she pleads. My name was never uttered so desperately.
But she’s wrong. I know she can. She will. I’m so close to the edge. Her perfect pussy is milking me, pulling me closer to the edge like a siren. But this is where my discipline matters. I will not come until she does.
“You're so close, baby. Come,” I order, inches from her ear, and that does it. She cries out again, her nails digging into my back. The pulsing and fluttering around my dick finally pull me over the edge. My orgasm crescendos along with hers, and I spill into her.
Several more thrusts, slowing each time, and then I stop. I look down at her. She looks up at me. And we just breathe together.
The stare between us feels infinite, and it takes allof that tremendous discipline I possess not to add words to the breath I drop on her like rain.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
She looks as serious as I feel. Like she wants to tell me something important, too. But then her face morphs into something wry, a half smile on her pretty lips. “That’s a nice way to wake up.”
I smile. And kiss her. She’s not wrong. But it doesn’t feel like we’ve woken up. This all still feels like a dream.
It still feels that way as I watch her patter around the kitchen. She’s in just my T-shirt again, cooking us an early breakfast. Her bare legs seem to go on forever, muscles shifting beneath smooth skin as she shifts from foot to foot.
We were pretending to be husband and wife while we were on the run.
And there are so many moments like this one, when I can believe it’s real. Not temporary or pretend.
Naomi sings some nonsense tune as she stirs onions in a pan, the smell and sounds filling the bungalow.
“A little early for onion,” I say, sipping my coffee.
She turns over her shoulder to look at me. “Onion breath might be the only thing to keep you off me for a few minutes.”
I shake my head, grinning. “Not going to work.”
She laughs and goes back to cooking. It wouldn’t. Nothing would keep me away from Naomi. In the outside world, I’m too old for her. Too broken. But here I’ve stopped caring. I’ve never wanted anything in my life as badly as I’ve wanted her.
I want this. Forever.
Which means I need to bring something up to her. She can’t see it, but my face falls.
“The plan can’t work.”
For a second, I don’t think she hears me. The only indication that she has is that she stops stirring for a moment. She turns and looks at me. “What do you mean?”
I take a moment. I rolled around what to say in my head for days, in the gaps between visits to heaven. I’m careful when I say, “When the plan was to expose them to the authorities, it had a chance. I had my doubts, but I thought it was possible. If our plan involves getting people to pay attention and care…” I shake my head. “It’s not going to happen.”
She folds her arms, not looking convinced or cowed. “Let’s say that’s true. What do you suggest we do?”
“We keep moving. I can make it so they can never find us. I can protect you.”
Naomi is already shaking her head before I’m halfway through the sentence. “Walker, I have a life in Virginia. My friends are there. My mother is there. I’m sure she’s worried sick, and it’s taken everything in me not to try to send her a message telling her I’m okay. But I can handle that because this will end.”
“This will never end, Naomi. Those people don’t give up. They don’t stop. And they always win because they don’t care about playing by the rules.”
“Well, I’d say we’re doing pretty well.”
“We are. Here. Hiding. They were willing to throw you away. Bury you. Kill me. But you think that evidence will result in prosecutions? You think the elements within the government are going to let that happen? That’s naive, Naomi.”
