Only one way to find out.
“You’re really tight up in here.” She poked her index fingers into his trapezius muscles. Taking in a breath, she let it out slowly and decided to go for it. “Take your shirt off so I can—”
Foster yanked his shirt off before she finished her sentence. “Don’t even care what your reason is.” He grinned at her over his right shoulder.
Hopefully someone would come by and mop the melted puddle she’d become behind him on the couch. Between his grin, the gorgeous pale green of his eyes, the bare expanse of his back, and the sexy way his tattoo swirled down over his shoulder, she was quickly losing her grip on reality. Surely, she’d slipped into a fantasy.
“Are you going to drool over me or rub some aching muscles, Officer Lazitter?” he teased.
“I don’t drool.”
“I think if the roles were reversed right now, I’d definitely be drooling.” He started to turn around, but she gripped his shoulders to keep him facing forward.
“We’ll see about reversing roles in a little bit.” That made her hot between her legs, so she shook her head and focused on the task of relieving his muscle pain. “Let me know if I’m hurting you.”
“I don’t mind a little rough treatment.” Again, he looked at her over his shoulder, his mouth turned up, and she wanted to throw herself at him.
Massage. Focus on the massage.
She walked her fingers around his tattoo, fighting the urge to trace the design with her tongue. His skin was warm against her right hand and as she moved around his shoulders, up his neck, down his back, his muscles loosened, his body relaxed. Well, she imagined there might be at least one spot on his body that wasn’t so loose, wasn’t so relaxed.
Fanning herself for a minute with her hands, she dove back in and continued rubbing him until he felt like soft clay under her grip.
“Feeling better?” she asked when he took in a deep breath and sifted it out, his spine sagging a bit.
“If I say yes, will you stop touching me?” He took her hand from his shoulder where she’d rested it and tugged until she had to move to his side. Sliding back on the couch, he pushed his shirt off his lap and raised a hand to fiddle with the ends of her hair. “Because I definitely don’t want you to stop touching me.”
The way he was looking at her right now set fires inside her body. All-consuming. Inferno-level. Magma rising to the mouth of the volcano. Seconds to eruption.
“I’m glad I decided to keep you safe personally. Some others wanted to shadow you, you know.”
“Is that what you’re doing? Shadowing me?” He traced circles on her bare shoulder, his pale green eyes settling on her lips.
“Yes.” She climbed onto his lap and smoothed her palms over his chest. “I think it’s best if I stay very, very close to you.”
His pupils doubled in size as his arms came around her waist. “To keep me safe?” He pulled her a bit closer and the heat between their bodies exploded.
When he pressed his lips against the curve of her neck and trailed a course along her shoulder, she thought maybe she needed someone to keep her safe. Safe from falling for this guy.
“Your safety is the Boston Police Department’s top priority.” Her voice was husky and didn’t sound like hers at all.
Foster slid the shoulder strap of her tank top down and lightly nipped at her collarbone. A sound came out of her she’d never made before. One of longing and arousal, and if he stopped now she’d cry. Truly.
His fingers slithered up into her hair, lightly scraping her skull as they moved and causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. Her hands pulled off her tank top without her consciously telling them to do so.
The groan that ushered out of Foster made her feel sexy—something she didn’t feel often. She was so busy trying to keep herself, Zeke, and Ghared from losing the battle in the city that she’d lost touch with her own needs, her wants.
Doctor Foster Ashby was definitely something she wanted.
“So beautiful.” His words were uttered on a whisper, like a secret meant only for her to hear.
She wanted to tell him he was beautiful too because, holy shit, he was, but Darina found her ability to formulate complete thoughts and convey words had been lost. Her body was in charge now, and it wasn’t giving up control any time soon.
Foster shifted so she was spread out on the couch. He leaned over her on his elbows, mere inches between their chests. “Do you believe in seizing the moment?”
“Yes.” The couch was soft beneath her. The man was hard above her. A wonderful sandwich she found herself in.
“Good. So do I.”
His mouth crashed down on hers, possessive, devouring her as if she were dessert in a world that no longer served anything sweet. He slid his left thigh between her legs and pushed up enough to have her writhing beneath him.
Damn. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d wanted something so damn much. Well, she could, but she wasn’t going to think about that right now.
Seize this moment. No living in the past.
Her hands came around Foster’s back, her fingernails grazing his skin, marking him, claiming him, willing him to do the same to her. She’d had no idea how badly she wanted someone to claim her. Aside from Zeke and Ghared, her life was solitary. She’d fooled herself into thinking that was how she wanted it. No doubt it was safer that way. Less people to worry about. Less likely someone would discover Zeke. Less likely to catch Warres’s plague. Less chance of her heart getting stomped on. Again.
But it’s also less adventurous, less fun, less living.
Her hands slid between them, reaching for the zipper on his pants. He sat up and gave her better access, his chest rising and falling with his rapid breathing—breathing that matched hers. She felt dizzy, out of control, alive.
“Darina.” The word came out on a breath as she freed his impressive erection, her own arousal growing exponentially as she imagined Foster burying himself deep inside her.
His hands went to her pants now, his fingers slowly pulling her zipper down and hooking on the waistband, tugging downward. His fingertips scraped along her hips, and she arched her back, allowing him to slide the pants past her ass. He paused, his eyes darkening as he took her in, seeming to commit her body to memory.
The anticipation. Was. Killing. Her.
“Please, Foster.” She didn’t make a habit of begging for anything. Begging was a sign of weakness, but tonight she didn’t care. She wanted Foster Ashby. She’d beg for him.
He grinned, a slow upturn of his magnificent lips, and she reached her arms up to bring him back down flush against her. His arousal rubbed along her wet, ready folds, and she nearly cried out, wanting desperately for him to fill her.
“We don’t need any protection, do we?” She somehow had the presence of mind to ask this question.
“I can’t impregnate you,” he said softly, something sad creeping into his gorgeous green eyes, “and I’m immune to disease.” He cleared his throat. “Not that I think you have any diseases… I… uh… I meant I can’t give you anything.” His cheeks pinked, and she wanted him even more if that were possible.
She closed the small distance between them and caught his mouth with hers. Her tongue tangled with his and each stroke had her vibrating with need.
He cupped her face with one hand, the gesture tender yet possessive, and Darina was ready.
So ready.
“Mom?” Zeke’s voice, though muffled, cut through the lustful haze and they both froze.
“Shit,” Darina hissed.
“He’s in the hallway.” Instantly, Foster lifted himself off her and struggled with zipping his pants.
“Something in the way there, Doc?” she teased as she wrestled her own pants back up.
He laughed, raking his hand through his hair and squirming back into his T-shirt. Handing Darina her tank top, he dropped a light kiss on her lips and whispered, “Promise me we’ll try this again. Please.”
She smiled and opened the door. “We’ll see.”
“Tease.” He followed her out of the library.
“There you are.” Zeke marched down the hallway, splitting a glance between them.
Oh, damn. Don’t let him do the calculations here.
If Zeke figured out what was going on—or worse still, if she had to know that he’d figured out what was going on—she would die a thousand deaths.
Without having had the actual sex.
Tragic.
Zeke stopped about a yard in front of her. “Ghared had to leave?”
“Yes.” She smoothed the front of her tank top, wondering how I-almost-had-amazing-sex she looked.
“Mareea?” Zeke’s dark eyes softened on her name.
Darina had noticed Zeke spent more time with Mareea than usual lately. Did he have feelings other than friendship for the girl? She was a sweet teenager who loved her uncle to pieces. Of course, he was the only one who paid any attention to her from her family. Her mother—Ghared’s sister, Lilia—was a rotten woman, full of hate and illegal substances. Darina herself had arrested the chick twice, but she knew how to play the game and usually got an early parole. As a cop, Darina didn’t mind so much that the woman got out of jail so frequently. What pissed her off was how she treated—or didn’t treat—her only daughter.
It wasn’t right.
“I hope Mareea’s okay,” Zeke said.
Darina rested her hands on his shoulders. “You know Ghared will make sure she’s okay.”
He gave her a half-smile. “That’s true.” He looked over her shoulder at Foster. “You have an amazing place here, Dr. Ashby.”
Darina eased out a breath. Zeke wasn’t going to question what she’d been doing in that library with Foster.
Crisis averted.
But her arousal was still at a dangerously high level. She was going to have to do something about that. A shower, perhaps?
Now she was picturing water droplets gliding down Foster’s impressive body. Not helping.
“I’m glad you like it here,” Foster said, his hand digging into his pocket. He held the bottle of medicine out to Zeke. “You should take this. You’ll need another drop tomorrow. Still feeling awesome?”
Zeke nodded. “Better than awesome.” He took the bottle and held it up, wiggling it slightly. “Thanks.” He pocketed the bottle and looked at Darina. “Are you overseeing the first watch out there?”
“No.” She glanced back to Foster, who was standing close enough she could feel his heat on her backside—a heat she had been feeling on her front side only minutes ago in the library. “I’m guarding Doctor Ashby personally. The folks out there on the perimeter watches are our first line of defense.
She hoped that was the only line of defense they’d need.
Chapter Eight
“Are we staying in this house if you’re guarding Dr. Ashby yourself?” Zeke asked around a yawn and a stretch of his arms above his head.
Darina scratched her forehead, and that simple movement captivated Foster. Good thing she was standing in front of him. Otherwise, Zeke would see one powerful erection straining to bust out of Foster’s cargo pants. He’d need a visit from one of his hologram women later, not that any of them would be able to compare to having Darina in his arms, ready and willing and real. To have been that close to burying himself inside her and not being able to was torture.
“I guess I didn’t think about where we would crash,” Darina said.
“So like you, Mom.” Zeke rolled his eyes but smiled at her. “Too busy working to think of mundane things like sleeping.”
“Evil—”
“Never sleeps,” Zeke finished. “I know. I know.” He looked at Foster. “She should have that tattooed on her.”
“Well, it’s true.” Darina crossed her arms over her chest as she faced Foster. His gaze immediately went to her breasts which swelled a bit at the low neck of her tank top. She followed his gaze, smirked, then dropped her arms. “Where can Zeke and I bunk?”
Foster had ideas on where Darina could bunk, and all of them involved being right by his side. He envisioned her hair splayed out on his pillow while he leaned over her and possessed her body, her mind, her very soul if he could manage it. It would be a challenge, but one he couldn’t resist.
“Foster?” She poked him in the stomach, a slight smile on her lips. “A room for me and the kid?”
“Right.” He blinked the image of her naked body out of his mind and turned around. “Follow me.”
He led them past the library—a room that would now be counted among his favorites—and paused at two doors at the end of the hallway. Pointing to the second one, he said, “That’s my bedroom.” He desperately wanted to finish that sentence with, “and won’t you please join me in there, Darina?” Instead, he indicated the first door. “This is a guest room you both can stay in. I think you’ll find it has ample space, yet is still in close proximity to mine. You know, so you can oversee my safety. Personally.”
Zeke’s hand was on the doorknob, while Darina blinked up at Foster, her hazel eyes full of the same fire Foster felt in his entire body.
“Check it out, Mom.” Zeke had stepped into the room, and Darina broke eye contact with Foster to follow him.
The guest room was painted a deep hunter green and the walls sported several of Estoria’s paintings of deer. Two twin beds were perpendicular to one wall, while wide windows comprised most of the wall opposite them. Those windows offered a prime view of the massive waterwheel Roben and some of the others had built along the stream. When the windows were open as they were now, the rhythmic shush of water dumping out of the waterwheel’s buckets drifted in on the gentle summer breeze like a natural lullaby.
The quilts on the two beds were a soft brown, almost like deer hide, with embroidered evergreen branches and pinecones. The bedside tables, the headboards, and a high-backed rocking chair had all been handmade by Roben in an old Shaker style. No one ever stayed in that room, so it still smelled of freshly milled pine.
“What a cozy room,” Darina said, running her fingers along the softness of the quilt on the closest bed.
“There’s a bathroom through there.” Foster pointed to a door by the closet. “Help yourselves to any supplies you find. Make yourselves comfortable.”
Zeke had gone to check out the bathroom then let out a gleeful whoop when he discovered the shower. Peeking his head out the door, he said, “I call first to shower.”
“Go for it. You stink worse than me anyway,” Darina said, laughing.
Zeke’s mouth dropped open, but when he sniffed his underarm, he made a face. “Ugh. You’re right.” He closed the door and a second later, running water sounded.
When Zeke started singing—quite well actually—Darina turned to face Foster. “You sure know how to make a teenage GEC happy. First seizure medicine, now a shower. He’ll never want to leave.”
Never want to leave. That didn’t seem like a bad idea to Foster. What if they all stayed on this property? What if they forgot about the world outside its boundaries? What if they lived the rest of their days, blissfully happy, right there?
“It’s a nice thought,” Darina said, reading his mind, “but we wouldn’t be able to live with ourselves if we didn’t do what we could for the rest of the population.”
“Damn.” Foster took her hand and tugged until her front was pressed up against his front. “Maybe after we save the world then?”
“We’ll see.” The second time she’d given him that reply. It was enough to keep him hoping.
“Wouldn’t you be able to better protect me if you stayed in my room with me?” It only made good security sense.
“That would be the best scenario,” Darina said, bringing a finger up to trace along his tattoo, “but what kind of mother would I be if I left Zeke all alone in a strange place for the night?”
“Ah, the responsible parent role. I can’t argue with that, now can I?” Foster brushed her hair from
her face and dipped his head to nibble on her earlobe.
She breathed out a needy noise that touched Foster deep inside. “No, you can’t.” Pushing up on her toes, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and whispered, “Good night, Foster,” into his ear.
Slipping out of his hold, she stepped to the door and leaned against it. When he walked by, he paused and hooked his hand on the back of her neck. “If you have any trouble sleeping, any trouble at all, I’m right there.” He pointed to the door to his room.
“Good to know.” She nudged him into the hallway. “You’re going in there now, right?”
Foster nodded.
“And you’ll stay there all night?”
Again, he nodded.
“Good.” She pulled out a small flashlight from her back pocket and walked down the hallway to the great room.
After two quick flashes of the light, Foster heard voices. When Darina returned, she had two others with her—Rasha and Hydec. Foster had found these two GECs on this very property, deep in the woods, about ten years ago. Cast off because Rasha’s blood didn’t clot properly and Hydec’s skin couldn’t tolerate direct sunlight, the pair had found each other and had set up a camp together. Foster had given Rasha a blood thickener and Hydec a high-potency UV sunblock, but they’d decided to stay with him instead of trying to blend into society. Rasha had proven to be an outstanding farmer, and Hydec was a wall of muscle who could lift just about anything.
“Rasha and Hydec are assigned to guard your door tonight,” Darina said, her voice official. Again, the authoritative tone sent ripples of desire through Foster.
“It is our great honor to help,” Hydec said. “We owe Foster so much.”
“I’ve told you a million times,” Foster said, “neither of you owe me anything.” He turned to Darina. “Rasha and Hydec helped me build this main house and the cottages.”
“Here’s to hoping your guarding skills are as good as your house-building skills.” Darina clapped them both on the back, checked their weapons, and saluted Foster. “Nighty-night, Doc.”
Safe (The Shielded Series Book 1) Page 11
