She felt the heat surge between them as his velvet tongue traced the seam between her lips, gently urging her to open for him. Her breath quickened at the feel of his warmth slipping into her mouth. The tingling in her stomach wouldn’t stop and though Meg didn’t know what it was, she did know her body was hungry for something.
A husky moan vibrated across her lips. She couldn’t get enough of his mouth. Tentatively, she slipped her tongue between his lips and felt him gently suckle her. Everything about Cole was gentle, respectful and tender—as if he was holding the most precious jewel, tasting the most decadent chocolate, kneeling before the most revered princess. This is how Cole made her feel.
That’s why she struggled with the feeling she was doing something wrong.
Confusion clouded her already groggy mind as she pull away, holding her forehead against his. His breathing was beautifully ragged as he whispered her name.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Cole confessed in the darkening room. The sun setting outside the window cast a kaleidoscope of colors all around, sweeping Meg into another bought of dizzying emotions.
Sleep tugged at her eye lids as she smiled softly. “Me, too,” she heard herself admit.
“Really?”
“I thought you were a hottie the moment I first saw you back in Kansas,” Meg giggled, shocked at her candid confession.
Cole’s laugh was deep and husky. “I remember thinking how beautiful you were when we met, but the first time I wanted to kiss you was when you had powdered sugar all over your face from scarfing those little white doughnuts. Do you remember that?”
“Didn’t I threaten you with bodily harm for teasing me?” she chuckled even as her body felt the weight of sleep pulling her under.
“Yeah, but it was worth it.” Cole’s smile faded as he leaned back to study her face. His fingers carefully stroked a curly lock of hair away from her forehead. His expression was now serious. “It was all worth it.”
Chapter 24 Exponentially Creed
“He is the perfect specimen.” Dr. Chaunders shook his head in awe as he watched Creed round the final turn of the lap. Beside him stood two of the other scientists on the team assigned to M429’s reconditioning. Dr. Sloan Mor and Dr. Fredrick Bjorn had been handpicked for their unique scientific brilliance.
Dr. Mor’s IQ was off the charts genius. She was so far beyond even the most intelligent of metas that she only associated with other scientists. Though she was only thirteen-years-old, and looked like a little girl, the moment she opened her mouth everyone would forget her still-rounded baby face, small 4’10” height and ninety-eight pound frame. Her astounding intellect demanded respect. She chose to live on the second floor of the Facility’s Research Hospital where there were some apartments originally designed for medical staff who needed to stay onsite to monitor certain aspects of their research around the clock. Though a meta herself, Dr. Mor’s unique abilities afforded her privileges away from the other female metasoldiers.
Dr. Bjorn, on the other hand, was human. He liked to think of himself as a more hands-on scientist. He worked directly with the “new recruits,” when they first arrive at the Facility, and enjoyed being the doctor to administer the life-altering Infinite II serums. Dr. Williams chose Bjorn for his sadistic need to feel power over the powerless. He was just Williams’ kind of guy. Chaunders couldn’t stand Bjorn, but kept his mouth shut out of fear. Bjorn was his happiest when he was inflicting pain. Chaunders worked hard to avoid being the object of Bjorn’s happiness.
“Time!” Dr. Mor called, clicking the stopwatch in her hand the moment Creed flew past the finish line. Her gunmetal gray eyes widened as she looked at its display. “40.09 seconds,” she announced loud enough for Dr. Bjorn to hear. He whistled his approval as he typed the data into his tablet.
“He’s broken another record,” Chaunders smiled.
Creed jogged over to the doctors and accepted the towel handed to him by Bjorn. His face was stoic as he opened the cloth and efficiently wiped the sweat from his brow and neck.
“How do you feel?” Dr. Chaunders asked the metasoldier, noting he was only slightly winded after that four-hundred meter sprint.
“Fine, sir.” Creed’s voice had no emotion..
“Are you up for some target practice?” Dr. Bjorn asked, studying his tablet.
“Absolutely.”
“Good. Let’s go.” Chaunders said.
Without another word, Creed climbed into the Jeep obediently and waited stone-faced for the scientists to load their equipment. The shooting range wasn’t far—nothing was far. The Facility was a perfectly designed, self-maintaining, military campus on thirty-seven acres of rural German countryside wrapped neatly in a fifteen foot electric fence, monitored with cameras and heat sensors.
The Jeep, driven by Chaunders, bounced down the gravel drive toward the shooting range. “What would you prefer to start with, Mr. Young, long gun, pistol or crossbow?”