Page 90 of Omega
I almost missed it. One second I was ruminating on the novelty of being a man’s woman, lying on the floor between the bed and the wall—and then Harris was in motion, pistol rising, bucking and flashing and barking quietly, once, twice…three times, four. Still loud, but not the deafening report of an un-silenced pistol. Harris was around the door now, moving in that sort-of crouch all soldiers, policemen, and other combat-trained people all use—Harris just did it in the buff. Still sexy.
He returned after a moment, yanked the sheet off the bed and vanished back into the living room to cover the bodies, his phone to his ear, updating Thresh.
He ended the call as he entered the bedroom, ejecting the clip of his pistol and replacing it.“Okay, we’re clear for now. We gotta move. Hit the shower, if you want. But be quick. I want to be gone in twenty minutes.”
“But you still have a hard-on, Nick. Want me to help you out with that?” I took a step toward him.
“It’ll go away. We don’t have time.”
“Does it make me sick that I get horny after situations like this are over?” I asked.
“No. Adrenaline does that to you. It’s a documented fact.” He hefted the bag of weapons onto the bed, found a box of bullets, and was thumbing rounds into the clip. “I told you, babe. We don’t have time. I’ll be fine. You can make it up to me later. We have to move.”
“I can make it quick. I promise.” I sank to my knees anyway.
“Layla—” He lifted me to my feet, brushed his thumb over my lips, and then kissed me. “You suck at listening.”
“I’m a bad girl, what can I say? And, obviously, listening isn’t all I suck at.” I licked my lips.
He laughed. “You’re impossible. And amazing.” He turned me around and shoved me toward the bathroom, giving my ass a hard, loud spank. “Go. Shower. Before I decide I’m hungry. And we really don’t have time for that.”
“You sure?” I ran my finger up my seam.
He growled. “Jesus, Layla.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Those two were just the first. They shouldn’t have found this place, but somehow they did. Which means there will be more out there somewhere. What I need from you right now is to do what I’m telling you, so I can keep us both alive long enough to get you alone on a beach somewhere far from any of this.”
“And once we’re alone on the beach?”
His eyes narrowed, green gone fiery. “When I’ve got you alone…baby, I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk straight. I’ll make you come so many times you’ll beg me to let you rest.”
“That will never happen. I’m pretty sure I don’t have an orgasm threshold of any kind whatsoever.”
He swayed toward me. “Layla? I swear to god I will spank your ass red and raw if you don’t get in the fucking shower rightgoddamnednow.”
“That’s not a threat to me, Harris, that’s a temptation.”
He grabbed my hair and pulled me down for a kiss. “And I will, someday, I promise. Now…for the last fucking time. Go shower.”
His eyes were serious, and I realized if this was going to work between us, I really would have to know when to obey him—no bullshit about it, this was about knowing when Harris needed me to just listen and do what I was told.
I’m terrible at doing what I’m told, but if I could listen to anyone on the planet, it was Harris.
I got my ass in the shower, and was out in three minutes. I didn’t have any of the products I needed to really do my hair properly—which was extensive, as I had pretty difficult-to-manage hair—so I settled for six small braids, which I then braided together into a single thick column. By that time, Harris had laid my clothes out on the bed: a pair of stretchy capri pants, a baby blue thong and matching bra, and a striped V-neck T-shirt. The pants had LOVE PINK written across the butt, which I suspect wasn’t an accident on Harris’s part.
“You picked the clothes?” I asked, hooking my bra in front and then rotating it around my body to stuff my tits into it.
He watched as I did this, halted in the act of repacking the weapons into the bag. “Yeah. Why?”
I tugged the thong on. “You picked a matching set of lingerie. And this is lingerie, by the way, not exactly practical underwear.”
He shrugged, and went back to repacking the assault rifles into the bag. “How the hell do I know the difference? Panties are panties, a bra is a bra. And besides, that color is sexy as fucking sin on you.”
It kind of was. Baby blue looked killer against my dark skin. “And the pants with the writing across the butt?”
Another shrug. “They looked like they’d be comfortable. I didn’t pick them for the writing.”
I slid them on, and then donned the shirt. “Sure. But the writing is a bonus, right? Makes my butt look even bigger, all those letters stretched across all this real estate.” I palmed my ass and gave it a smack.
He smirked. “A lot of seriously juicy real estate. Itisa nice bonus.” He gestured at the shoes, a pair of plain, worn black and white Chucks. “Practical shoes, though.”