Her hand, fingers trembling, fished for the shotgun sitting by her side.
“Ali, it’s okay,” he said, earning another nod. Actually, it was closer to a jerk, and far from convinced.
He had searched the place thoroughly, barricaded the door downstairs and the stairwel both; he’d junked them up with furniture.
Nothing was getting near.
“You really think we could go up on the roof?” Her plush mouth was set in a super straight line of disbelief. She stirred up all sorts of tender in him. It shouldn’t have been a surprise.
It had been a long day, and apart from riding him on each and every decision made, she had been a trooper. She questioned, but she didn’t whine. A delicate line to tread, but one he’d begun to appreciate.
Especially since she kept checking him out when she thought he wasn’t looking. Talk about life affirming. Turning around to find her focusing on a lower level, say where his ass had been. It made everything much more than all right. He loved it. The hitch in her breath and the telltale spike of those nipples through her t-shirt made life superb.
On the bike she had settled against him more with each passing kilometer. She held on good and tight, leaning into his back as they wound through build-ups of once upon a time traffic. He doubted the cuddling was conscious on her part, but it meant she was relaxing.
“We can definitely go up on the roof,” he said. “It would even be safer than staying down here, when you think about it.”
She paused, cocked her head. “You’re smiling again.”
“You make me so happy.”
She snorted a laugh, which was quite possibly the cutest thing he’d ever heard.
“You know, I think you ran out of words,” he said, earning another small smile. “You certainly used up a lot on me today with all the constructive feedback. Which I appreciated very much.”
“You think?”
“Mm hmm. Happens to guys all the time. We have less words per day than women. I know this for a fact, saw it on TV once.”
Ali darted the tip of her tongue across her lips, eyes flitting between him and the world outside. Like anything was happening out there. “I don’t have a penis. In case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I had. I’m very grateful, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Actual y, I had.”
He nodded, shuffled a little closer. Close enough so he could see the goose pimples on the side of her neck rise when she felt his breath there. And she stil didn’t move away. “Thought you might have.”
Outside, the sun sank, slowly turning the world to gold, then gray, then black. A solid black these days, being minus electricity. The kind of darkness you only used to get out in the middle of nowhere.
The first star twinkled hopefully through the slice of life the curtains afforded.
“Make a wish,” he said.
“Okay.”
Daniel dragged over his backpack and cracked a can of soup. She had to be hungry by now, no matter how taken she was by the scenery. He fished out a clean spoon and filled it up with the cold and gelatinous but nutritional goop. With all due ceremony, he held it in front of her pretty pink mouth.
“Time to eat. Open,” he said and she did, making him feel all sorts of good. Purring in her ear and rubbing up against her wasn’t out of the question. Though he doubted she’d appreciate it. He alternated spoonfuls, one for her, one for him. It satisfied some primal caveman thing in him to feed her.
He wanted to do all sorts of things for her but, for now, he was stuck with what she would allow. The whole quiet, meditative state seeped into him and everything was good and mellow. He could roll with this.
His girl sat, frowning out at the horizon. Little lines sat between her brows and her concentration was absolute. It seemed like she was daring herself not to blink or turn away. Forcing herself to face up to the world. During the day there had been distractions, but not so now. She struggled but didn’t back down. The least he could do was to be there for her.
When her hand strayed back to rest on his knee he stayed perfectly stil and just let her. He doubted she knew she had reached out to him. That she touched him. His dick more than realized, the hair-trigger her presence inspired kicking in.
He thought about cold water. Ice-cold water. It almost worked.
Soup gave way to bottled water. Then he cracked open a bottle of fifteen-year-old scotch he had been saving up for just such an occasion. A celebration of being alive, drawing breath, being together. A celebration of her hand on his knee. “Drink.”
She put her lips to the bottle, and he tipped, sending the very fine amber liquor straight down her throat.
Big mistake.
Ali sputtered and grabbed at the bottle, shoving it away before covering her mouth with a hasty hand.
“Damn it, sorry. I didn’t think.” Daniel set the precious bottle aside and rose up on his knees, pried her hands from her face. Hard to see much in the darkness, but her eyes were glossy. She choked and laughed in equal amounts. At least he’d made her laugh. “I should have warned you it wasn’t water.”