by Isabel Wroth
“Throttle down, quick draw. I was just comin’ to check on y'all, and I see that you're fine.”
Dillon gave the sexiest snarl as she reached over and stabbed the button to roll down the window, lowering her weapon before she shook her fist menacingly at Raid.
“Fine? Fine? I could have shot you in the face, asshole!”
Nasa relinquished his hold on her ass to hook his arm around her hips, feeling how she shook and trembled as the adrenaline started to ebb and shock settled in.
“I'm real glad you didn't. The bullet would have ricocheted off the window and probably back into you.”
Raid gave an easy chuckle and put his hands down. “Sorry for scarin’ you. It's alright now; it's over.”
Figuring he wouldn't be getting in any more kisses without an audience, Nasa yanked the seat lever to push him back upright, keeping his grip on Dillon's waist as he opened the door and got out with her held firmly against him.
“Did anyone get a good look at the driver or the shooter?”
Raid rocked back on his heels and huffed out a short, frustrated breath. “Nope. Their windows were tinted pitch black, but we'll run the plates.”
Nasa grunted, knowing 'we' meant him.
“I might have got a picture of the shooter,” Dillon announced with a huff. When Nasa twisted to look down at her in surprise, she scowled back. “What?”
“Nothin’.” He grunted, watching her turn bright pink when he reached down to adjust his suddenly raging hard cock in his jeans.
With a dismissive flick of her lashes to cover up the way she’d made eye contact with his erection, Dillon stepped around him to search the rear cab of the truck.
Nasa could actually feel the semen climbing up the length of his shaft, watching her bend over to search for where the inertia of the truck had thrown her cell.
He hissed in a slow, deep breath and pulled his hand down over his mouth, his eyes glued to the curve of her ass and how the muscles in her thighs flexed.
The motion of flipping up the back seat to lay down on her belly so she could look under the front seats caused visions of their future to flash before his eyes.
“Got it!” she announced, straightening up with a triumphant smile.
His fingertips sizzled when they made contact with Dillon’s hand to take her phone, and when he didn’t immediately do anything with it, amusement sparkled in her gaze as she let her brows slowly slide up.
“It’s not password protected,” she taunted playfully. Those four words were like the jolt of a cattle prod.
“What? Why not?” Nasa snatched the cell out of her hand, taken aback when it opened right up without any issue. He couldn’t believe it. “Dillon, you at least have to utilize the thumbprint lock.”
“Seriously? I snapped a photo of the dickhead shooting at us, and you’re nagging me about not having a password on my cheap-ass cell phone that has none of my personal data on it whatsoever?”
Raid gave a long, low whistle and looked from Dillon to Nasa with wide eyes. “Your girl might not have red hair, but I recognize that tone. Athena uses it right before she chooses violence.”
Nasa recognized it too and got to apologizing fast. “I’m an asshole about phone security, and I’m sorry. You were quick on your feet with the photos, and we wouldn’t have any chance at getting IDs on those fucktards without you.”
Dillon’s eyes narrowed in response to his attempt at a charming smile, and Nasa was forced to assume the dismissive click of her tongue was all the acceptance he would get from her.
With the temperature continuing to rise, he widened his stance a little to take the pressure off his balls and pulled up the string of photos Dillon had been smart enough to take.
Unfortunately, most of them were blurry, but there were enough individual shots to piece all the pixels together in order to form a clear image.
An engine roared, and it wasn't lost on him how Dillon put herself into a position that shielded him. Like he was weaponless and needed her protection.
No bones about it, his girl was a badass.
Nasa didn't get the opportunity to tell her she better stop being so sexy when he couldn't do anything about it because Tobias came bumping around the bend, rolled down the window of his ugly-ass truck, and started bitchin' like an old lady.
“This is total horseshit, guys. Y'all have prospects to do the trash runs, but here I am, and I don't see any trash.
"And I don't know what the hell you were thinkin' putting Duke up that tree. Himbo can't snipe the broad side of a barn, let alone a pair of rolling tires going warp speed. “
“Don't you start, asshole,” Duke snapped back at his partner, shouldering his rifle to flip Tobias off. “With that cast on your arm, you can't even aim to take a piss. Yeah, that's right. I heard Ever givin’ you shit about pissin' on the floor instead of in the bowl like a big boy.”
“I feel that pain, brother,” Roar called out.
Even with the cast, Tobias flipped Duke and Roar both off. “Fuck you, Himbo. What'd you do? Shoot your wad too early and scare the bad guys away? We needed prisoners to interrogate, you know?”
The trash talk escalated from there as the guys blew off steam post-attack.
When Dillon met his gaze and gave him that pissy little look of lust-fueled displeasure, strung tight as a piano wire and humming with tension, Nasa decided he gave exactly zero fucks.
He tipped her chin up and kissed her right there in front of everyone. When they came up for air, he nuzzled against her cheek.
“Ready to get out of here?”
Dillon blew out a shaky breath and nodded, going so far as to curl up under his chin for a minute. Nasa kissed her hair, lowering his mouth to her ear, his hand on her ass to pull her hips tight against his.
“Whip that gun out again, you little badass, and I might embarrass myself in front of my brothers.”
He felt her smile, and all was good in his world.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
As soon as they walked through the door, Top wanted a full report, which meant Dillon had to wait while Nasa recounted every moment of their drive in flawless detail.
She didn't have anything to add, so she stood there with one hand around Elka's collar and the other firmly clasped in Nasa's.
The adrenaline of the chase still hummed through her body, but it wasn't cold or shock causing her to tremble. Dillon tried to subtly breathe through the arousal burning through her, wondering why this time was different.
Hypervigilance and paranoia usually increased for her after intense situations, and being involved in a high-speed chase while shot at certainly counted as an intense situation.
She hadn't been lying in the truck. Never in her life had Dillon felt this level of arousal. Instead of asking herself why, instead of running through the last hour of her life over and over to discover any detail she might have missed, Dillon was picturing Nasa naked.
He and Top kept talking, going over theories she listened to with half an ear while Dillon simmered with growing lust.
Her bra felt too tight, to coarse, her underwear was soaked, and it felt as though her yoga pants were next. It might have been her imagination, but Dillon thought she could even smell her arousal.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, inadvertently catching Nasa's attention.
“Hey, you with me?” Nasa asked, and whatever he saw in her face when she looked up at him made his eyes narrow. “Top, we done here? I promised Dillon a hot bath.”
“Yep. Do what you need to do. We're secure as we can be. Dillon,” Top said her name with enough command to get her attention, and she saw with a detached sort of amusement, his beard jutted straight out from his chin when he clenched his jaw. “You did good today.”
Dillon blinked in confusion, hoping Top made the assumption she was in shock and not working to keep from rubbing up against Nasa like a cat in heat.
“All the pictures I took were blurry,” she pointed out.
“What?”
Top pointed at her legs and wiggled his finger. “You've got a Colt in those pants, and if I didn't know better, I'd never have noticed. The girls all carry, and Athena's got a birthday comin’ up. Bet she'd like a pair.”
“I'll, um, I'll get you the store number.”
“Tomorrow,” Nasa cut in firmly.
“Definitely tomorrow,” Top agreed, giving her a nod. “Don't let what happened today run circles inside your head on repeat. Let it be for tonight.”
With that parting advice, Dillon followed the tug of Nasa's hand and let go of Elka, letting him guide her downstairs to his lair.
Even though she knew his goal was the bathroom, her heart rate continued to accelerate the closer they got to his bed.
In the days she'd spent in the basement, Dillon had done her level best to ignore the oversized bed Nasa had set up on a platform.
She'd tried to ignore how inviting the deep mattress seemed, how fluffy the comforter looked, and imagining what silk sheets might feel like against bare skin.
Unfortunately, she was failing.
A fine sheen of sweat covered her exposed skin, her belly kept twisting in knots, and if she didn't get her clothes off soon, Dillon didn't know what would happen.
She stopped halfway between the bathroom and the bed, bowing her head to rub at her temples in hopes of getting it together.
Already hovering, Nasa curved his body around her, bringing with him the smell of pine forests and leather, and another vicious flutter rippled through her vagina.
The calluses on his palms scraped deliciously up and down her biceps, which caused her to bite back a desperate moan as the sensation only inflamed her further.
“Talk to me, Tiger Lily,” he insisted, the deep timbre of his voice adding another layer of vibration to stimulate her.
It was second nature to lash out, to change the subject and fight the unfamiliar feelings overwhelming her.
She almost did it, too, but one look up at him and the urge slipped away. Still, she needed something to cling to, something to keep from losing all control and taking him down right there on the floor.
“Why do you call me that? I'm no Neverland princess.”
Nasa tilted his head, his gaze boring into hers with all the intensity of a raptor. His hands traveled down her arms to her wrists, lifting her palms to his throat, pressing her fingertips into the skin of his neck so she could feel how his pulse pounded in harmony with her own.
“The day you showed up at the compound, I was down here, watching you on the security feed. Not knowing who you were or why you'd come, or if you were a threat. I had to zoom in on your face to get a clear shot for my trace program, and I could see how scared you were.
“I suspected you were here as a spy for Ghost, but it didn't stop me from being attracted to you. I watched you, taking it all in, weighing your options and assessing how to respond. I saw your tiger eyes catch the sunlight, and when you turned around, I saw your stripes.”
Dillon felt her heart take a flying leap right at him, but he kept right on talking, not giving her the opportunity to respond.
“Everyone processes shock differently, Dillon. If you need to cry, or scream, or if you want to go burn some bullets, that's okay.
"I can give you space if you need it, just don't ask me to leave you to handle it alone, because it’s not happening.”
He was so earnest— so sincere— eagerly waiting for her to tell him what he could do to help her. All she had to do was be brave.
“I can't turn it off. I thought it would go away once we got back here, but its only gotten worse,” she babbled, liking the way his eyes widened in response to the huskiness of her voice.
“I don't need a bath or to cry, and as good as it would probably feel, shooting something has no appeal right now. I'm still all keyed up, and I... I want...”
Dillon stuttered as she struggled to verbalize exactly what she wanted, but she watched his expression turn molten, and the smile that spread across his face left Dillon feeling more than a little breathless. His voice roughened, deepened, and already so sensitive, the whisper-light skim of his fingertips on her shoulder nearly pulled a whimper out of her.
“You're doing so good. Balls out, tell me what you need. Nothin' more I want to do than give it to you.”
Even as his praise made her glow, a lick of frustration and embarrassment tainted the moment.
He was the kinky dominant one, couldn't he just... dominate and take control? She waited, hoping if she kept hesitating or kept him waiting, he would take over.
He didn't.
Nasa remained mute, smiling at her when she would have much rather have him rip her clothes off. Something Dr. White said to her earlier today chose that moment to bubble up.
“Nasa is a master of himself. His control is absolute, and he will never take your choice away unless your life is in danger. Right now, he's following your lead, as he should.
“Until he learns to read your nonverbal cues and how to respond to them without activating your traumas, uncomfortable as you'll no doubt find it, expect to do a lot of talking and explaining.”
Dillon struggled to meet his gaze, letting her hands trail down to the collar of his cut, rubbing at the buttery leather between her fingers. “My clothes are too tight, I'm hot, and I feel like I'm going to shake right out of my skin.
"I want you, but I'm so used to the anxiety, the panic attacks, and the hypervigilance, the need for sex is as much of a relief as it is uncomfortable. This doesn't happen to me.”
Nasa moved his palms around to frame her waist, digging his fingers in with enough pressure to get her attention, gently reeling her in until she was pressed against him from tits to thighs.
He bent until their mouths just barely touched, his breath warm and sweet, every word a sensual caress. “It's normal for the fear of death to remind us what it is to feel alive.”
“It doesn't feel normal,” Dillon replied, and rocked up on her toes to steal a quick kiss that turned into a searing tangle of lips, teeth, and tongue.
She only tore her mouth away to ask one question: “Am I going to have to spell out where and how I want Tab A to fit into Slot B?”
Nasa chuckled wickedly. “No. We'll go with the flow this time. Tell Elka she's off duty.”
Dillon obeyed, watching Elka head to the couch instead of the fluffy dog bed by Dillon's desk, stretching out as much as possible with a happy groan.
“Dillon.” Nasa's smoky rumble got her absolute attention. “Colt,” he said, holding his hand up, smirking when she reached behind her to grab her weapon and hand it over. The pistol looked so tiny in his enormous hand.
When he pulled his own much larger Desert Eagle from under his left arm, it was to nestle the two guns side by side in his bedside drawer.
“You hiding anything else on you?”
Without a word, Dillon reached under her shirt to unclip the gravity knife from her bra. Nasa pressed the button, and the blade whipped out with a soft snick.
“That it?” His throaty growl of approval literally made her womb clench.
“Yep.”
“No hidden taser or one of those collapsible Bo staves?” he teased, gripping the hem of her fluttery tank top to pull up over her head, laying it across his wooden valet stand behind him.
Her blood hummed, pumping hard enough through her veins she could feel the pulse and contractions beneath her skin.
Dillon slid her palms up his chest, pushing the leather from his shoulders. “I couldn't fit anything else on me without it being obvious, but there's a multi-tool, another knife, and six clips of ammo in my purse. I forgot it in the truck.”
“I'll get it later for you,
” he promised.
With all the things he had in his pockets, the vest was incredibly heavy, and her indigo tank looked positively delicate beneath the thick black leather.
She’d turned around to hang the vest on his valet stand, and not even thinking about it, Dillon gave Nasa her back.
He took sensual advantage, his lips finding the hollow of her shoulder, his hands curving over her biceps, sweeping her bra straps down her arms.
A quick flick and a shiver-inducing stroke down her spine had the lace cups sagging off her chest.
He must have shucked his shirt in a hurry because she felt the fiery heat of his chest against her back, those enormous hands of his tossing her bra aside to take her breasts in hand.
“You caught me off guard earlier at Pavlovia,” he told her hoarsely, gently squeezing and plucking at her nipples until they were hard as rocks. “I forgot to tell you how fuckin' sexy you are. How proud I am of you for being so brave.”
Her head fell back on his shoulder as though the bones had vanished from her neck. His praise whispered in her ear did amazing things to her, draining all the tension from her body, leaving her glowing inside and out.
“You make me feel that way.”
“I'm glad. Kick your shoes off.” Dillon did as he said, closing her eyes to better feel the sensation of his palms moving down her belly. “Did Collette talk to you about safe words?”
“Yes. If I say the word, everything stops.”
Nasa made a gentle sound in his throat, his teeth scraping against her shoulder. Against one of her scars. An electric zing of shock sizzled like a lightning strike throughout her body, surprising her into sucking in a startled breath.
“That's right. Pick a word for me.”
“Apricot.”
Nasa chuckled, but he didn't tease her or ask her why. “Apricot it is. Say it, and everything comes to a screeching halt. No judgment, no hard feelings, but later, we will discuss what went wrong and why you needed to stop.”
“Understood.”
His tongue stroked across another one of her scars, and unexpectedly, tears pricked at her eyes. He hadn't shied away from the ugly mess of raised flesh from day one, and Dillon hadn't realized how deeply it would affect her.
