“Fan-fucking-tastic.” He grabbed the blankets, flung them back.
Sloane shifted in front, blocking him from doing anything other than staring into her gorgeous green eyes. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“We can’t just sit here, waiting for some wet-squad or wanna-be-assassin to knock on the door. We need answers. Weapons. Hell, we need to isolate before we bring this shitstorm to Bodie’s front door.”
“And we’ll do it all, including going off-grid, but it can wait until you can move without puking. Bodie’s got the place on lockdown, and I’m sure Buck or Dalton are walking the perimeter. I swear those guys never sleep. So, keep your ass in the bed until either Chase says you can move or the sky falls.”
“I can hunt and heal at the same time.”
“I’m only asking for a few hours. Until you don’t look like freaking Casper.”
Nick huffed out a breath and stared at her. “Were you always this bossy?”
“Were you always this stubborn?”
He laughed, winced. “You did that on purpose.”
“Maybe just a little.” She leaned in, palmed his jaw. “Rest. There’ll be plenty of time to kick ass once you’re healed.”
Nick placed his hand over hers, held her in close as he ran his fingers along her jaw, slipped them into her hair.
She inhaled, mouth slightly open, the air thick with shared tension. Not from the bounty or the previous ambush. This was primal. Unyielding.
He hedged his bet, drew her closer, pausing an inch away.
Her breathing kicked up, the pulse at the base of her neck practically jumping out of her skin. “Nick…”
He held firm, fisting his fingers around a mass of auburn locks. “For once, Sloane, don’t talk.”
He closed the scant distance, lingering long enough she could pull away if she wanted to before sliding his lips over hers, giving himself over to the kiss.
Destiny.
That’s what she tasted like.
All the reasons he’d kept fighting. Why every other relationship had failed.
He’d been waiting for her.
Sloane hummed, fully committed, her fingers threading through his hair as she moved closer, pressing against his chest without touching his thigh. Not that he would have noticed, the sheer pleasure of her in his arms overshadowing everything else.
He eased back, smiled, then kissed her again. Harder, deeper, one hand landing on the small of her back as he tilted her head, delved inside.
He moaned, mapped out a hundred ways he could hold her without blacking out, when the door rattled, Bodie, Dalton, Rowan, and Buck bustling through a second later. They didn’t give Nick and Sloane’s position a second look — the fact she was practically plastered against him, hair disheveled, lips slightly kiss swollen — just stopped at the foot of the bed, mouths pinched tight, eyes narrowed.
Bodie pointed to the main exit. “We’ve got company. Six heat signatures tracking along the west fence line, heavily armed, moving in fast.”
Nick hissed. “Shit.”
“We’ll intercept. See what we’re up against. If this is a ‘stand and fight’ or ‘haul ass’ kind of situation.” He tossed both of them a comms unit. “Sloane, hold down the fort. I’ll report in a few minutes. Let you know the status. And for what it’s worth. I already called in backup, but they’re a good fifteen minutes out.”
Sloane tucked the unit in her ear, then catapulted off the bed, smoothing out her clothes as she grabbed her weapon off the computer station.
Nick readied the comm as he swung his feet over the edge, willed his damn legs to hold him as he palmed the headboard, tried to lever up.
Sloane pressed her hand against his chest before he could shift. “Stay put. You’re no good to anyone if you crack your head open trying to stand.”
Nick huffed, glanced at the door where his buddies had already disappeared. “I’m not sitting here, licking my wounds while some asshat tries to gun down my team.”
