“Well then.” He leaned down and captured her lips, warmth and promise in his kiss.
She moaned and opened for him, her tongue dueling with his. He turned and gently, so gently, placed her on the bed and removed her clothes. Her body rioted, and her brain short-circuited. “I don’t want soft.”
“You’re injured.” He swept both palms down her arms, avoiding her new stitches.
“We’re always injured,” she said, avoiding the bruises on his neck and the wrapping on his wrist. Oh, they had shit to deal with, but she needed to get lost for a while. Pain was constant and pleasure rare. Losing Barbara had left Sami’s chest aching, and she needed to run away from death for the moment. “Please. Let’s just forget reality for a short time.”
He shucked his clothes, those dark eyes watching her the entire time. “Tomorrow is gonna be dangerous.”
“Yeah,” she said softly. Attacking the president was risky, while taking on the Bunker was downright insane. “Not all of us are going to make it back—we need to know that.” But Tace had to survive. Taking the risk for him was worth it.
“You’ll make it back,” he murmured, leaning over her, his big body bracketed on his elbows. “I promise. No matter what, you’ll get home safely.”
“Home.” She ran both hands through his hair, her body instantly primed and ready for him. “I feel like this is home.” Finally.
He grinned and nipped her bottom lip, donning a condom and settling himself between her legs. His warmth soothed her, and his nearness ignited all sorts of tingles. “Don’t get too attached to LA, sweetheart. We’re gonna have to move and soon.”
“I wasn’t talking about the place,” she murmured, vulnerability suddenly swamping her.
His head lifted just a bit. “You’re home to me, too.” With the soft words, he slowly entered her, filling her completely.
She breathed out, letting her body adjust. Tears pricked the back of her eyes. Loss had become a constant in the post-Scorpius world, but the idea of losing Tace Justice hurt somewhere deeper inside than she’d ever known. “Tace.”
“It’ll be all right.” He repeated her words, kissing her, promise and hope in his kiss. And something else. Something concrete and just for her.
He started to move, and she dug her nails into his back, taking all he had to give. She climbed high, much more than her body engaged with him. Taken over by him. Heat flashed and uncoiled inside her. She arched and cried out his name, ripples of pure pleasure assailing her.
She came down with a soft whimper, and he shuddered against her, kissing her deep.
Finally, he lifted his head, those eyes dark and intent. “It’s you and me, Sami. No matter what.”
* * *
Tace lay on his back with Sami half sprawled on top of him, sleeping quietly, her body bare. She’d fought him, but he’d insisted she take another pain pill. He leaned over and traced theVANGUARDtattoo beneath her left shoulder. He’d tagged her with it over a month ago, and the lines were feminine and deadly, just like the woman herself. He’d nearly swallowed his tongue that first time she’d taken off her shirt.
Of course, he’d been whole then. Healthy and mentally stable. Or at least as mentally stable as was possible after most of the world had died.
His body ached for Barbara and for the life she could’ve had with Derek. Anger sizzled through him. There had been too many of the president’s soldiers still standing, even though Tace had killed the one who’d shot Barbara.
Poor sweet Barbara with her kitten.
He wouldn’t survive if he lost Sami. He knew that without question.
She lifted her head and blinked, her brown eyes soft. “Did you sleep?”
“Yes,” he lied.
She stretched her neck. “How long was I out?”
“A few hours. It’s not dawn yet. You should go back to sleep.” He ran a hand down her hair, luxuriating in the softness.
Pink tinged her cheeks. “I’m on top of you.”
His eyebrows rose, and his body temperature followed suit. “I’ve noticed that.”
“How are you feeling?”
Crazy, obsessive, possessive, protective, determined, sad, angry . . . “Fine. I’m feeling healthy.” But the attacks had stopped giving him any warning, so within seconds he could be out cold again. Yet he swept his hand down the curve of her back to her sweet butt. “I love your ass.”
