Move the Sun (Signal Bend #1)(11)

The question she asked herself, as her body responded enthusiastically to his touch, was whether she was better off keeping him close or keeping her distance.

She smiled up at him, seeing the sass of it reflected in the lenses of his sunglasses. “Work? That what you’re here for?”

He turned his hand so that his palm was flat on her belly and then pushed it around, still partially under her shorts, until he hooked it over her left hip. She saw him notice the ink there and felt his thumb trace it.

She managed to keep her heart steady and her breath even, but it was becoming a struggle. His palm was hot and rough on her bare skin.

“Well, work to start. See, my guy found something pretty interesting. I like to be forthright. I’m not much for poker. Chess is my game. Think it serves everybody best if things are laid out neat. So I thought I’d run it by you. He tells me he came up quick against a wall, looking into you. Not a lot of history. I find that . . . intriguing. You pop out of a pod a few months ago, all shiny and new?”

Okay. So he had a decent hacker in the club. Good to know. Not necessarily a crisis, though definitely a problem and a potential risk. At best, again, Isaac was changing the way she intended to do things. And her decision was made.

Keep him close. She couldn’t say she was sorry about that.

Lilli shared Isaac’s affection for forthrightness. As much of the truth as possible was always the best approach. Getting caught out in a lie always made everything more dangerous. Only as much subterfuge as was necessary.

“No, no pod. Don’t suppose you’ll just let that wall stand?”

He tossed his head back and laughed, a deep, mirthful sound that made Lilli’s running shorts all the wetter. When he looked down at her again, his lopsided smile was broad and bright. “Sorry, no. You could make it easier on Bart and let me take a peek over it, tell me why it’s there.”

“Where would be the fun in that?” Her keys hooked on a finger, she reached up and undid a couple of buttons on his shirt. Around his neck, he wore a leather cord with a small silver medallion; it was nested in a moderate coverage of dark curls on his chest. She did love a hairy chest. She circled her fingers in it and felt his hand grip her hip hard.

He growled again, shaking his head. “I don’t like secrets, Sport.” His free hand gripped the back of her neck, and he came down close, not yet kissing her, though she could feel his beard tickling her chin.

She reached around his neck and brought his braid forward over his shoulder, pulling the elastic band loose from its end and running her finger through the middle to undo it. She wanted to see his hair. “Would you believe me if I told you it doesn’t concern you?” She truly didn’t know whether it did concern him, but the question she asked was not a lie.

“Everything that happens in this town concerns me.” He tipped his head back and shook his hair loose.

Then he pulled his sunglasses off and tossed them onto the deck. In the daylight, his eyes were even more intensely green, rimmed with dark emerald and changing gradually to peridot at the pupil. The thought occurred to her that a man like this might object to having his eyes described in terms of gemstones, and she was amused.

His hair was beautiful, thick and dark and wavy from the braid. She took a handful of it and pulled him down until his lips were heavy on hers.

He kissed her fiercely, his tongue thrusting immediately into her mouth, going deep. She matched his with her own, reveling in the scratch of his beard against her face. She hooked her arms around his neck and fed both hands into his hair, grabbing it tightly into her fists. He shifted his hands so that she was encompassed by his long, thick arms.

His chest was a broad rock wall crushing her breasts. Fuck, the man was all elemental sex. She moaned and tore her mouth free, tipping her head back to take a deep inhale. He shifted again, and she felt his hand on her throat, lightly, his thumb tracing a path down its length. She brought her head forward and met his intense gaze.

“I mean to f*ck you, Sport, secrets or not. Now’s the time to say you don’t want it.”

She grinned. She wanted it. But she’d play a little coy. “I have a pretty full day planned. Breakfast, errands. You weren’t on my calendar. And I just ran a long way. I’m sweaty, and I stink.”

“Yes, you do. I like it. I want you sweaty.” He pulled her hips sharply against his thighs, pressing his erection to her belly. “How ‘bout I buy you breakfast after?”

She released one of her hands from his hair and dragged it lightly around his neck, stopping when she got to the place where his shirt was open on his chest. She spread her fingers through the hair there, and he took in a breath and closed his eyes. “Can I eat my own, or are we sharing again?” she asked.

He opened his eyes and winked. He was enjoying the banter as much as she was. “You don’t like sharing with me?”

“Barely got any of my burger last night.”

“Hey—that wasn’t my fault.” He cocked his eyebrow at her. “I’m not hearin’ you say no, Sport.”

She pushed away from him, and disappointment passed over his face, but she grabbed his hand. “Gotta go in the front. I don’t have a key for the slider.”

He let her lead him around the house. As she unlocked the door, he said, “Nobody locks around here, you know. Folks trust each other. You want to blend in, you should pick up the customs.”