His eyes opened wide. “What?”
“That’s what this is. We’re only doing this—” she gestured between them rather unnecessarily because they were undeniably joined “—because you think—”
Thomas caught up fast, exhaling his surprise and disbelief as he cut her off. “I absolutely do not think—”
“—we’re gonna die.” She swept her hair back from her face and accused him. “You’re granting my dying wish.”
He laughed. “Tash.”
And yeah, she’d heard herself saying that, and it sounded extra-crazy, and even though that made her laugh a little, too, he reached out to pull up her chin so that she had to meet his eyes.
“Okay,” he said slowly as his own eyes reflected the fact that he could see from looking at her that no, she wasn’t joking or intentionally being silly. “I guess we’re gonna have a debate right now. Not entirely unexpected, but okay. Let’s do this. I believe the rebuttal is mine. Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “So I’m gonna go with... I have no intention of letting either of us die.”
“I get that,” she said, knowing that if they were really going to properly talk, she should get off him and cover herself. But he’d gone back to holding onto her hips, so she focused on staying very still. Because, God, if she moved, even just a little... “I’m with you. I have that same intention—to do whatever I can to make sure we survive. But when we leave here, before dawn, we have no idea what’s going to happen. We don’t even have a weather report.” She knew that was a sore point for him as the consummate planner, and sure enough, his mouth tightened. “We could evade the hostiles and die in a blizzard, even with the super-pants and blanket socks.”
Except now he was shaking his head, about to argue, so she got to her point.
“This feels like a bucket list thing,” Tasha said swiftly, searching his eyes. “I mean, you selflessly fulfilling my bucket list, just to be kind?” But then she heard what she’d said.
Thomas couldn’t hide his smile. “You gotta admit, that one goes in the euphemism hall of fame.”
She couldn’t keep from laughing.
Which made her move. Just a little.
Just enough to make his eyelids lower and his hips go up, possibly involuntarily, because he murmured, “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” even as she said, “oh God, yes,” as she also couldn’t stop herself from pushing him even more deeply inside of her.
She heard herself moan again, and he took that plus her yes for the permission to proceed that she hadn’t truly intended it to be. And when he pulled her down for a brain-melting kiss as he moved beneath her, she moved against him, too, because God, she really wanted this, and God, it felt so good.
But she wasn’t done arguing and as he freed her mouth to kiss and lick and suckle her breasts, she gasped and then breathed into his ear, “But it’s a euphemism... for a... for a pity fuck.”
He lifted his head at that. “Oh, nah, Tash,” he said, stopping his movement and holding her tightly in place so she couldn’t move again either. “Ah, God... Okay, okay... That is not what this is. No. Nope.”
He was sweating—she was, too—as they stared at each other, immobile again, like they were playing some truly masochistic adults-only version of freeze-tag.
She wanted to believe him, she really did. “But you said you wanted to wait, to take it slowly, and I’m the one who—”
“Yeah, well, sometimes life doesn’t cooperate, so you gotta revise and adjust,” he told her. “In a perfect world, I’d do a lot of things differently. In a perfect world, I would’ve gone to talk to you years ago and woulda not only sat there and listened, but I would’ve heard you and realized everything I’d gotten so damn wrong about who we are and... what we could be.”
He’d said something similar before, but Tasha knew that she would’ve fled the scene if he’d ever showed up to talk. It took being locked in with him for enough hope to grow—enough for her to find the courage to risk her heart again. But at the core of that was another truth—one that she hadn’t dared yet to put voice to. So she took a deep breath and said it. Or at least tried to. “But I quit on you. If this hadn’t happened—this trip and the... this? Being locked in, together?” Their connection never would’ve happened, and she probably would’ve gone ahead and married Ted, who didn’t love her, whom she didn’t love. That was the part that was really hard to say aloud. “I gave up on us, Thomas. I ran away. I let you go, and I let me go, too. I don’t deserve your... kindness.”
He lifted his eyebrows, just a little, and she rolled her eyes and added, “Yeah, I heard that, too. Damn it, I’m trying to be serious here.”
“Tash, I’m listening. I am,” he told her.
Clearly, she was the one having trouble staying focused. So she pulled back from him, and he released her immediately. And God, she missed him instantly—not just the part of her that wanted to orgasm around his thick heat, but the part of her that treasured the intimacy, the closeness and warmth, the love. Especially since now they were both just sitting there, awkwardly naked and obviously aroused, on the sofa.
But oh, God, she needed to talk to him about this.
Thomas swiftly reached for a blanket—handing it to her—as she likewise gave him a pillow to cover himself. It would’ve been funny if—okay, no, it was funny, regardless of any if. He laughed a little, too, even as he radiated warmth and kindness and calm patience.
And he didn’t wait for her to start. He just dove right in.
“I’m not a fan of focusing on who’s to blame for past mistakes,” he told her, his voice gentle. “What you call giving up, I call you going to college, you growing up. And yeah, you may have been running away from me, but you were running toward your life, and that’s never a bad thing. The way I see it, we both just came full circle, thanks to, yeah, being locked in here. And it’s okay for you to be as surprised as I am. Was. Am.” He laughed. “Do I wish this happened sooner? Hell, yeah. Am I gonna waste any time worrying about it? Hell, no. We make mistakes, and we course correct.”
Tasha was already shaking her head. “But what if I’d been... stupid—God, I hate it when women and girls call themselves stupid, but it would’ve been completely stupid if I’d actually gone and married Ted.”
“But you didn’t,” he pointed out.
“But I might’ve,” she admitted. “Ted was pressuring me and... I was way more ready to do it than I let you believe. What is wrong with me?”
Thomas sang the lyrics to an old song. “If I can’t have you, I don’t want nobody baby. That’s actually kinda flattering.”
“Or I’m an awful person,” she countered.
“Let me think about that—no, you’re not,” he shot back. “Are you young? Yeah. Are you human? Very, thank God. Are we here right now? Hell yes. Course corrected.”
“Except for the part where we might die.”
“Tomorrow’s tomorrow,” Thomas pointed out.
“So you do think—”
He cut her off. “No, I really don’t think we’re gonna die, I think we’re gonna be okay, but yeah, you’re right, there’s a chance we might—and it’s a bigger chance than if we were in my condo in San Diego planning a morning Costco run. So why waste time? And look, I’m not saying that making love to you is on my bucket list, ’cause this is not even close to a one-and-done thing for me. Nuh-uh. But I sure as hell don’t want to die tomorrow thinking about should’ves that I coulda had if I hadn’t been too damn cautious. And if I can make you happy at the same time...?”
Tasha was silent as she gazed into his eyes.
“Do you trust me?” he whispered.
She nodded. She did. “I wanted to make sure that, you know, you were sure.”
He smiled at her, then looked pointedly down at the pillow he was still holding on his lap. “You honestly think this isn’t me being sure? That my kindness coulda stumbled into your bucket list purely by accident?”
She laughed then. “Oh, my God. We’ll be ninety and you’re
still gonna be teasing me about this, aren’t you?”
The amusement in his eyes turned into something softer, more tender. “Yeah,” he told her as he reached for her, pulling her close enough to kiss her and gently push her hair back from her face. “We will be ninety, and I’ll still be teasing you. Hang on to that thought, Tash. That and... I love you.”
Tasha kissed him.
And then she dropped her blanket and moved his pillow, and showed him exactly how much she loved him, too.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Thomas woke Tasha with a hand on her shoulder and a quiet but urgent “Time to go,” in her ear.
She sat up, clearly confused by darkness broken only by the flicker of a candle he’d lit and the bouncing beam of the flashlight that he carried as he moved about the pod’s living room.
“The power’s gone out,” she realized, scrambling out of the cocoon of blankets that she’d made for herself on the sofa. “When? Did you sleep? Do I have time to pee?”
She was a flash of red hair and nakedness in the candlelight—and so beautiful, he felt a rush of disbelief that this was his world now.
She was his world now.
“Just now; no, I didn’t sleep but I’m good; and yes, but move fast,” he answered her list of questions as she found her panties and jeans in a pile on the floor and yanked them on, searching for her shirt. He tossed it to her and she caught it easily. “Careful of your arm.”
But she was already thrusting her arms through the sleeves as she ran for the bathroom. “Ow! Too late, but thanks!” She left the door ajar and called back out to him, “What time is it?”
“1310—a little after one,” Thomas called back.
“Wait, that’s PM, not AM?” she asked.
“You were asleep for about an hour,” he confirmed.
“Shit, that’s bad—it’s still daylight, but it won’t be for very long,” she said, clearly remembering what he’d told her the last time they’d crashed around together on the side of a mountain. Everything—hiking, staying quiet and avoiding capture by the squads of men out searching for them—was harder in the dark. Which was why Thomas had planned to leave just before dawn, where they’d have an hour or so of creeping through the darkness before being able to hit their stride and maintain some speed further down the mountain, after they’d moved away from the various camps of hostiles. Instead, they were doing the exact opposite.
“Moon’s almost full tonight,” he told her, trying to reassure them both. “I’m hoping for clear skies.” The downside of that was clear skies usually meant bitter cold. He hated not having access to a weather report, but they were solidly in the realm of his having to choose the least-worst option.
He held out the bright orange raincoat as Tasha came out of the bathroom, pulling her hair up into a pony tail to keep her curls out of her face. “Wear this as an inner layer,” he told her, “under your jacket.” It was too bright to put on top. “You might be a little warm in the tunnel, but you’ll want it when we get outside.”
“Ooh, the pants fit!” Her face brightened as she saw that he’d put them on as outerwear, over his usual red plaid.
“They do, they’re great,” he told her, lifting his sweatshirt to show her the belt he’d made by threading a long strip of fleece, cut from a blanket, through small cuts in the tightly knit fabric. “Thank you.”
“That belt is perfect,” she noted as he helped her tuck other pieces of fleece inside of her jacket and around her head and neck for even more warmth. But then she rapidly switched gears. “Do we expect an ambush?” She’d even cut mitten-size pieces for their hands as part of her prep, which was brilliant. She stuffed as many as she could fit into both of their pockets now as she clarified unnecessarily, “At the end of the escape tunnel?”
No, but he didn’t want to make any promises, so he said, “We’ll be ready for anything.” He handed her a flashlight and one of the larger candles before grabbing the rifle, the day pack, and a soft bundle of other supplies that he’d wrapped and secured. He led the way to the utility room. “But I’m hoping that the hostiles got hold of info about the power lines without accessing the full design plans for the shelter. It’s a good bet that’s gonna take them longer to find, especially since it was likely intentionally kept from public records.”
He stepped back to let Tasha go first through the little cast iron door to freedom, then humped the pack and the bundle into the little nuclear fallout “mudroom,” too.
“Is this...? Whoa, it is. It’s your bathrobe.” She moved both the bundle and the daypack out of the way, giving him space to climb through the door, too.
“Yup.”
“Goodbye, sex-pod,” she said as he swung the door closed behind him. “We’ll remember you fondly, particularly your heat and your bathroom. Although this—” she picked up the bundle “—is a nice souvenir.”
“Your robe is in the bundle, too. In case we need more layers.”
She laughed softly at that. “In case. Maybe I should just wear both of them right now, and you can just roll me down the mountainside.”
“Blow out the candle and...” Thomas put his finger to his lips in a clear shhh message as he prepared to open the bigger door that led into the tunnel.
But as darkness enveloped them completely, Tasha breathed, “Wait! Please?”
He heard her move, felt her reach out to touch him, her hand warm against his back. “I didn’t get to say thank you—I didn’t get to say anything because I cleverly fell asleep,” she whispered. “Before. On the sofa. It was... I was... Thomas, my heart is...”
He turned and kissed her—she tasted minty fresh—and he had to smile. She’d brushed her teeth while she was in the bathroom—of course she had—and his not being surprised in the least about that made him happy in a way he’d never felt before. Happy—and determined. He finally knew what he wanted—a life with Tasha by his side—and damn it, he was going to fight for it.
“We’re gonna get through this,” he told her softly. “But right now we need to be quiet, okay? As I open the door. In an overabundance of caution.”
He felt her nod, felt her pull back—but she kept her hand on him, just lightly now.
So he did it. The release of the lock made noise—there was no way to do it quietly, so maybe their not-talking was moot. Although he did need to listen and listen hard.
There was no noise, no flurry of movement, no light in the tunnel, no immediate attack.
So Thomas opened the door another slight inch—ready to slam it closed with the full weight of his body behind it, and secure the lock, if necessary.
Still nothing.
He opened it even further, still using the door as a shield between their bodies and the tunnel.
More silence and stillness.
He switched on his flashlight and peeked out around the edge of the door.
The tunnel was empty—at least down here at their end—the beam bouncing off the walls that curved into both floor and ceiling.
As Thomas turned back, he saw that Tasha had already relit the candle. She’d picked up the daypack and was slipping her arms through the padded straps that would allow her to wear it on her back. He stopped her. “I got this.”
She let him take it, but immediately picked up the bundle.
“And that,” he added. “I got that, too.”
“What,” she scoffed, “I carry one candle?”
“Yes,” he answered. “And maybe that way we won’t have to go too slowly.”
“Ouch,” she said, but it was obvious that she knew he was right as she let him take the bundle from her arms.
“I’m guessing—from the fact that every time I turned around you were reading a different book, that you haven’t been sleeping well,” he told her, leading the way into the tunnel. He kept his voice low, hushed. “So yeah, it was clever of you to sleep. Even just for an hour.”
“But you didn’t,” Tash whispered back.
“Navy SEAL. I’ll�
�”
She cut him off. “Don’t you dare say I’ll sleep when I’m dead. That’s not funny today. Or any day, really.”
“Noted.”
“It just feels like bad form to have such incredibly great sex and then fall asleep and not...”
Thomas glanced at her, eyebrow raised in anticipation for the end of her sentence.
“Talk,” she said. She cleared her throat. “More.”
“As in hold a debrief or a Q&A or, I dunno, maybe even a follow-up debate?”
Tash laughed softly. “I’m feeling intense socially-trained pressure to apologize, but I’m not sorry. About our awkwardly timed debate, I mean. Too many people just shut up and have sex despite all the noise in their heads and... That’s not me.” She made an impatient tsking noise. “Well, it’s not the me I want to be. The me that I can allow myself to be when I’m with you—because I trust you so completely.”
Damn, hearing her say that... The emotion he was feeling was overwhelming. He suddenly understood exactly what she’d meant when she’d said, My heart is... but then couldn’t finish. Because he’d never felt anything like this before either.
“I’m glad,” he murmured.
“Me, too,” she said. “So, no regrets?”
He shot her a Seriously? look and she smiled.
“You changed your mind really fast—about waiting. I wanted to make sure you didn’t have, I don’t know, whiplash...?”
“It’s not whiplash,” he told her, “because that shit hurts worse in the aftermath. This is more like... leaping backwards, blindfolded, into the ocean, off a really high cliff. You’re disoriented and it’s terrifying, and hitting the water is... shocking, to put it mildly. But just like that, you’re submerged, immersed, and it’s cool and peaceful and... You’re in it. Deep. And yeah, you gotta figure out which way is up so you can breathe, but once you get that handled, it feels so damn good.”
“Leaping,” she said, “is a generous word. I’m pretty sure I pushed you off that cliff.”
“Nah,” Thomas said. “If anything, you jumped first, shouting Follow meeeeee!” He let his voice trail as if falling, and she smiled, but it was despite herself, and he could tell that she still didn’t quite believe him. “I left that cliff of my own volition, Tash,” he continued. “Deciding factor was the pants.” He gestured down to them. “A woman makes you pants like these, that’s a major statement. Turns out it’s a relationship goal I didn’t even know that I had.”
King's Ransom: (Tall, Dark and Dangerous Book 13) Page 25
