He did up the last of her shirt buttons and reached for the simple black cotton underwear beside her. His hands skimmed down her sides as he dropped to his knees. The feel of him touching her was electric. Still, this wasn’t getting them anywhere.
“Here,” she said. “Give them to me.”
“No.” Fresh knickers were held before her and she stepped into them, a hand on the counter for balance. He drew them up her legs, onto her hips.
“Nick, I’m not a child.”
“I know. Hand me the jeans,” he said, his voice low.
“I can dress myself.”
He looked up and caught her gaze. His voice dropped to somewhere below ground level. “The jeans, Ros.”
Whoa.
The deep, no-nonsense tone really did something to her. Something she probably could have done without. Life was complicated enough. She swallowed hard and steadied her legs. Deliberated for about a second, then passed him the denim. Doing as she was told, for some reason. Because you had to pick your fights. And also, because some part of her wanted to give into him. Something about it worked for her.
Maybe he was right. Maybe she did like him telling her to do sex things. But she sure as hell didn’t need him making all of her choices for her. Which was exactly what they’d been discussing before he started putting his hands on her and scrambling her wits.
“I need to know what you’re going to do,” she said.
“Lift your foot.”
She lifted first one foot, then the other. Slowly he pulled the jeans up her legs, stopping shy of her torso. The muscles in her thighs were taut and she had the worst feeling her new knickers were already damp. How bloody embarrassing. Having a serious conversation under these conditions was unfeasible.
“Ask me for something else,” he said. His breath heated her belly and his hands curved over her hips. He rubbed his face against her, beneath the hem of her shirt. She could feel the soft of his cheek bone then the scratch of his stubble. His facial hair was longer today. Not so sharp on her skin. “I know you want to.”
“Alright.” Her hands trembled as she gripped the counter behind her. “I want a gun. I want to be able to defend myself.”
“Why couldn’t you just ask me to give you head, hmm? It’s obvious you want me to.” He pressed his face against her covered mound, making her stomach dance. “You smell so good. You make my mouth water.” His hands slid beneath the cotton of her underwear, cupping her ass cheeks. He shredded her will, decimated it. “Ask me, Roslyn.”
“No.” Oh God, yes please. Her sex throbbed, needy and desperate. Her fingers itched to get grabby with his hair and make him deliver. But it was a battle of wills she couldn’t afford to lose. Let him off the hook now and he’d never take her seriously. “Give me the gun.”
“No.” He lifted his face and his eyes met hers. “You go off on your own, you’ll die. I won’t let that happen. I can’t.”
She could have kicked him, the stubborn bastard. “I need to know the choice to be with you is mine.”
“Bullshit,” he growled. “You want to be with me. You said so.”
“I need to know I’m with you of my own free will.”
He grunted and kept his eyes on her as he kneaded her butt cheeks, dug his fingers in and spread them just a little, enough to wake every last nerve in the area. God help her. Her toes curled into the scratchy carpet.
“Stop it,” she whispered.
“Let’s see who gives in first. Better hold onto the counter.”
Her fingers clutched at the smooth glass edges, hanging on for all she was worth. “Nick, this is not a game.”
“You said you chose me,” he said.
“We still have things to work out.”
“No. We don’t.” His tongue traced circles around her belly button then blew over the damp skin. Her breath hitched.
“You’re complicating something simple,” he said.
“Nothing is simple about this.”
He bit at the waist of her underwear and her stomach muscles quivered. The man bordered on feral. It was wildly exciting.
“Yesterday afternoon …?” he started.
“What about it?” she asked, her voice uneven. His lips were so damn close to where she needed them, and yet not there. It took all of her willpower not to just shove herself in his face.
“When I woke up and you were gone …”
“Mm?”
“Then seeing that thing about to bite you. Shit, Ros.”
“So give me the pistol. I know how to use it.”
He growled and kissed her mound, drew a deep breath. “Ask me. Put us both out of our misery.”
“Give me the gun.”
“I bet you taste perfect.” The heat in his eyes almost undid her.
“I-I’ll pick one up somewhere. You know I will.”
He nipped at her inner thigh. “Don’t you want to come on my face? Wouldn’t you like that?”
“Stop it, Nick.” Oh no, not a visual like that. Not fair. “This isn’t a game.”
He did something; something involving his tongue and the seam where her sex met her thigh and holy hell. Her whole body trembled.
“G-give it to me,” she said.
“I’d love to.”
Smug bastard. The fingers massaging her butt moved to soft strokes along the lower curve of her ass instead. Damn, he was good at this. She’d stick him next to The Joy of Sex. 613 or 618? She couldn’t remember. Shit, her mind was failing her.
“The gun, Nick. Give me the gun.” She squirmed in his hold.
With a snarly noise he got to his feet. His hands pulled her in against him and she grabbed hold of his shoulders for balance. “I can protect you if you’d stop fighting me for one bloody minute.”
“I need to be able to protect myself. You’re always saying I need to get a clue and adjust to how things are now, so let me. Help me.”
Slowly he withdrew his hands from her knickers. His face was lined with tension. Then he pulled his pistol from the back of his jeans and set it on the counter beside her. “Alright. You win.”
“I do?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Ah, thanks.”
“No problem. You fire that thing and you send every infected in the vicinity an invitation to come kill us. Keep that in mind.” Nick stepped back and her hands fell from his shoulders. “I’ll get cleaned up and we’ll hit the road. Grab whatever you’re going to need—a couple of changes of clothes at least.”