A Harmless Little Ruse (Harmless #2)(50)

“I meant I don’t want just that.”

“When did I ever say that was all we were going to do?” she whispers, licking the edge of my ear as she sits up, her hand on my ass. “Let’s take what we can get and find room for more after.”

Oh, God. Everything happens so fast. We’re locked in a bathroom in Jane’s apartment, half naked and full-blown crazy, panting and hot and aroused and hard and then I’m in her, all slick warm velvet and cream, her thighs tight on my hips, her fingernails scratching my back over my shirt, her warm, wet breath urging me as I slide into home.

Over and over and over, her hips arching up to catch me, Lindsay takes without mercy. I’m flying, flipping her so I get better traction, pumping hard as she begs for more, her body tensing, her orgasm seconds away.

As my hips move and she meets me every inch of the way, momentum builds, my breath in my ears and her scent all over me, our naked skin sliding and slipping. Our bodies are in tandem as she moans my name, her neck stretched and taut, her fingers digging into me as she clenches and releases into the abyss that has no name, no face, no label.

Just pure energy.

I can’t hold back, my cock jerking as my thighs shake, her gorgeous body under mine, turning me on and making me a live, naked wire as I come hard, muffling my shout in her hair, my pulse so fast it’s like I’ve skipped dimensions. Every move she makes incites me, excites me, makes me want her more.

“I can’t get enough of you,” she moans in my ear right before she kisses me, our teeth crashing, lips moving with a hunger that I mirror.

I’m still coming, incapable of speech, my hands on her breasts, her ass, her hips – I want it all – and then we’re both twitching and panting, my head spinning, and Lindsay laughs so hard I fall out of her.

Evicted.

She’s half propped up against the bathtub, her skirt around her waist, the back of her hair a rat’s nest and she’s hooting, giggling so hard she makes an adorable snorting sound.

Which means this is the perfect time to give her my gun.

No, not the flesh one I just fired into her.

A real one.

She crab walks, scrambling to get away from me as I hand her the tiny pistol.

“What the f*ck, Drew? Is this some military custom I don’t know about? Sleep with your girlfriend and give her a gun or something?”

Girlfriend.

All the air in my body whooshes out. White spots dot my vision, then clear to give me the truest vision of Lindsay I’ve ever experienced. We’re ragged and sweaty, soaked in each other’s musk and half dressed, on Jane’s bathroom floor, as a group of enemies seek to destroy us.

And I’ve never been happier.

She is radiant.

I press the tiny pistol into her palm as I kiss her deeply.

“You need this. Just in case. And you need something even more important.”

This is when I pull out my syringe. I came prepared.

Her eyes bug out.

“What the hell, Drew? My mom speculated you might be on drugs, but -- ”

I show her the microchip.

Now she pulls away from me.

“What the hell is that?” The mood is gone.

“A microchip.”

“You’re the Terminator, aren’t you? A cyborg from the future. This explains so much.” She’s rambling and starts to stand, searching for her panties. I point to the light switch.

“Why are you so focused on time travel, Lindsay?” I stand, too. I’m faster at getting dressed, and by the time she makes eye contact, I have the syringe with the chip in my hands, ready to explain.

“Because right now, I want to be anywhere, any time, but here. Now. What the hell, Drew?” She looks at the gun in her hand, then pings to the syringe in mine. “What is this? You want to...”

“Microchip you.”

“I’m not a pet!”

There are so many replies to that one. I smartly hold them all back and just look at her. I lick my upper lip and taste her.

“This is simple. Your dad is making all the wrong decisions.”

Bang bang bang.

We both jump and I almost drop the chip, but catch it at the last second.

“Ms. Bosworth?” It’s Silas, from the outside door. “We need to get you home.”

What he’s really saying is, Get the f*ck out of there, Drew.

“We don’t have much time,” I say tersely. “I need to insert this in you.” I pull out the alcohol swab and grab her wrist.

“In me?” She snatches her hand back.

“Yes.”

“I have an ‘insert one item per day’ limit with you, Drew.” She shoots me a smug smile, but she’s creeped out.

“Not today.”

She just blinks, the truth of what I’m saying slowly sinking in, her cheeks going red.

“You’re not kidding.”

“No.”

“You think I’m in that kind of danger? So much danger that I need to be chipped so you can track me in case they – in the event of a -- ”

“Yes.”

“Is that why you just slept with me?”

Bang bang bang.

This is all too much, too fast, too jumbled and full. Emotion and action don’t mix for me. They just don’t. You act on instinct and override fear to get the target to safety. Sometimes I’m the target. Most of the time, it’s someone else.