Finn had to squint and take a step closer to make them out in the fading light. But yes, they had a winner. Daniel had found Al’s panties.
Finn’s sense of humor, however, had long gone. “You risked your life to hang underwear off the mailbox? This is what you couldn’t wait till I was awake to do? Fucksake, Al.”
“Actual y, it was the shrub beside the mailbox, discreetly positioned unless you knew what you were after,” Dan explained, dangling the item higher when Al took the bait and made a grab for them. “I knew what I was after.”
“This was the agreed upon sign?” Finn asked in a brutal y tight voice. No point hiding his ire now. These two were all loved up and he was on the outer, the audience, not required. No one was interested in his mood or his issues.
“Not exactly, needing a sign hadn’t occurred to us. We weren’t planning on getting separated. I guess that was short-sighted.” Daniel planted a kiss on her forehead, ignoring her grasping arm. “Mmm, you smell of soap, al shiny and fresh. Me, on the other hand …”
The big guy slowly eased his shirt up. “Shit. That hurts.”
“There’s water for washing,” she said. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Bumped into something. Gonna have some beautiful bruises tomorrow.”
“How bad, Dan?” Ali gave up on the attempt at grabbing and held out her hand with all due decorum. “My underwear, please. I’m done with flashing for the day.”
“That’s a damn shame.” Daniel brushed his nose against hers, Eskimo style, and handed over the plain cotton panties. “Not too bad.
I’l get cleaned up.”
Al was glowing with good feeling, panties in hand and fingers fidgeting. “Finn, thank you for putting up with me. For everything.
Again.”
She was so happy. Alight with love. And he wished, just for a second, that he was the one on the receiving end. He gave himself a moment to wonder what it would be like to not sleep alone. Because if he had been just a couple of days earlier, then he could have been the one she threw herself at.
A few f**king hours earlier was all it would have taken and it would have been him. There it was. He was dismissed. Job done.
Time to take it on the cheek and roll with the punches. “We’re friends, Al. It’s all good.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
She was scarily happy.
Blissfully happy and scared shitless all at once. Of course, the rabbit had issues with making such a gargantuan leap of faith. Bad luck.
It was too late for any rabbit-type retreat.
“Talk to me,” Daniel demanded from beside her. They lay on a nest she had concocted for their comfort out of old blankets and towels.
Finn had bedded down on the far side of the room, behind the car and out of view.
While Daniel washed up, Finn had made a smal production out of plugging into a tiny MP3 player, affording them as much privacy as possible.
“What about? You’ve only been gone a few hours.” She stared back at him, bewildered, full of joy, amazed he had returned to her.
She hadn’t lost him. Maybe there was a God of some description on high.
“Talk,” he demanded again. “I want to hear your voice.”
“Okay, okay.” He was wonderful. Her stomach wouldn’t quit somersaulting. The light from one lone candle flickered and fluttered over the planes and angles of his face. Those blue eyes fixed on her. Waiting. “Ah, well …”
“Come here, babe.” Daniel’s impatient hands grabbed her. No. He grabbed at her one lone item of clothing. Soon enough he’d ridded her of the t-shirt and she lay bare, body and soul. He had total access without even trying.
She had no idea how it had happened. Before she could worry about exposure, he was there, covering her, distracting her. He was a master at distraction. Her br**sts fil ed his hands, thumbs stroking the tight peaks of her ni**les, sending warmth flooding through her.
The way he touched her lit her up from inside. “I love these. So, you got away okay? Everything was alright?”
“Y-yes.” His hands coaxed and teased, there was no chance of coherency. He was crazy to expect it and it was well past time to return the favor.
The hard muscles of his stomach jumped beneath her touch as she slid her hand down the front of his pants, loving the liberty to touch him how she pleased. Wheresoever she pleased.
His c**k was at the ready, hard and hot, perfect. Her fingers wrapped around him, stroked and caressed. All for her. What a gift he was. And she had nearly lost him.
“Good. That’s good. Knew I could count on Finn.” His lids dropped to half-mast, eyes glittering with a lust that thrilled her.
“I can take care of myself.” There was no impact. The words came out more breathy than bold. Hopeless.
No chance to get angry when her heart and mind were melting.
“Course you can. You’re my uber girl.” He moved, winced, abruptly stopped. With a pale face he muttered something deeply profane.
“Right, that’s it. On your back, buddy.” Ali eased him over with careful hands, abandoning the hardness and heat of his c**k for now. She hustled up his white t-shirt, revealing a spectacular black bruise the size of her hand. Her throat shut tight. The mark covered the entire right side of his ribcage.
“You said you were fine. Holy shit, Daniel. This is not fine. This is a really long way from fine.”
And whoa, there went her voice. She screeched at him by the end of it.
“Shh. Don’t go bal istic. I can explain …” He lifted up, flinching al the while. Hands gripped her h*ps and rearranged her til she sat atop him, aligned with his groin. She stared down at him, careful to keep her knees back from the damage. Where was it even safe to touch him?
Daniel sighed. “Actual y, you know, it’s not worth explaining. But, okay, don’t get mad. There was all sorts of crap in the water. I hit something when I went in. I lived to tell the tale. End of explaining. Feel free to rub yourself against me in a show of sympathy. Hang on.
Up.”
His hands urged her to rise up sufficient to drag down his boxers. Going skin to skin with Daniel sent her out of her mind. The contact hot, hard, and soft, and wet. He hissed as she let out a sharp, shock of a breath.
“Babe, you are so wet. Fuck, that’s good.” Daniel’s h*ps pressed up, his hands on her pressed down. “Oh, yeah.”
“Dan. Shit. Stop.”
The grip on her shifted, moved up til her br**sts were back in his hands. Her own hovered, uncertain where to land. Oh whoa, that bruise. And who knew how to tell if he had cracked or broken something. Then again, surely a man with cracked or broken ribs didn’t go around lifting women and positioning them where he wished. Surely.