“No.” She breathed out. “I went for lost souls and the brilliant nerdy ones. Always turned bad.”
“I’m not brilliant.” Tace leaned in and nuzzled Sami’s neck. “But I’m definitely lost.”
Fire lanced through her, and she turned to shove him away. “Knock it off.”
Greyson stretched to his feet. “Tell Jax that I’ve asked everyone in Merc territory about his brother, and nobody has seen Marcus. I showed them all the drawing of the man.”
Sami nodded. “We’ll let him know. Thanks for trying.” God, she hoped her friend found his brother.
Greyson nodded. “It’s about midnight, and you two need to leave in a couple of hours to reach Vanguard while it’s still dark. Sleep off the booze. I have a thank-you box of provisions to send with you when you go. For good faith and all of that shit.” He loped by them and disappeared toward the bedrooms.
“’Night, Grey,” Sami called out and then snorted. “And I thought Jax was grumpy.”
“Jax is grumpy.” Tace tugged her so she straddled him, moving her easily. “So.”
Sometimes she forgot his strength. His thighs heated hers, and this close, his unique scent of man combined with the rich smell of good bourbon. If she moved any closer, the obvious bulge in his jeans would be right where her body wanted it. “No,” she whispered softly.
His chest shuddered. “I don’t need to ask why.” Yet his big hand flattened against her collarbone and swept her shirt down her arm. “So pretty and soft.” The pads of his fingers slid across her bare skin. “I dream about you,” he murmured.
She stilled. “You do?”
“Yes. Every night. Sometimes during the day. Always you, always sighing my name.” He shook his head. “Sometimes I think you’re haunting me.”
Those were sweet words that should be a little creepy but weren’t. Gone was the cold and calculating man from earlier, and in his place was the sweet Texan she thought she’d known. “What do you want from me?” she asked, her question pouring out of her before she could stop it.
“I don’t know.” He traced a path up her jugular and beneath her jaw as if memorizing her shape.
She wobbled on his legs and pressed against his chest for support. “We’re drunk.”
“Yep. How easy would it be to, uh, use that as an excuse?” He tilted his head to the side and watched his hand spread out over her chest. “Isn’t that why we both kept drinking? Really?”
If he moved any lower, her aching breasts would finally get some attention. “You don’t want to use booze as an excuse?” she whispered.
“I do want to,” he murmured, moving his hand down and over her breasts. “Fuck, baby, I’d use anything for an excuse.”
She gasped. Pleasure, too hot to be real, streaked from her nipples to her core. “Tace.” She closed her eyes as heat swept her in nearly painful tingles. How was it possible to want this badly?
“The world sucks.” He leaned in to let his mouth wander across her neck and gently clasped one aching mound. “Shouldn’t we take pleasure when we can?”
As a line, it was a damn good one. She wanted to laugh at them both, but she ached too much to find true humor. He palmed her, his big hand enclosing her entire breast. “Tace?”
He lifted his head, his gaze square to hers. “I could talk you into this, but I’m not gonna. I don’t want that.”
She blinked.
He drew his fingers along her breast to caress her nipple, pulling just hard enough to steal her breath away. “You’re all in with your eyes open, or we’re done. One night, Sami. A couple of hours here in Merc territory and away from home.”
She swallowed and couldn’t help pushing into his hand. They could die on the way home from a Ripper attack. Shouldn’t she take this one moment of pleasure? “Then it’s back to normal.”
“It has to be.” He leaned in and licked across her collarbone.
God. She couldn’t take it. She trembled. One time. Just a couple of stolen hours? This new, grown-up, desolate world did call for pleasure when possible since it was so rare. She knew one taste of him wouldn’t be enough, but once back at Vanguard, she couldn’t be somebody’s girlfriend. Not with the past coming close, and not if she wanted to continue to fight. And if he ever found out the truth, he wouldn’t want her anyway.
He lifted his head and nipped beneath her jaw. “Samantha?”
“This night—what’s left of it. Eyes open. Just one.” She could barely get the words out.
He stood suddenly, his hands cupping her ass, and moved beyond the couch and through the house, somehow maneuvering perfectly fine in the darkness. One foot nudged open their door, and he stepped inside, letting her slide down his body. “Hold on.” He turned and blocked the door with the dresser.
