Part Seventeen

                                    

                                          
    "It's only going to get worse." I arch my neck, loving the sensation of Drew's fingers running through my hair. I press a kiss to his naked chest. My body's thrumming from the lingering bliss of orgasm, making it difficult to concentrate. Focus. "She's going to ask more questions, and I don't know what to tell her."
                          
    His chest vibrates under my cheek. "You think she'd believe the truth?"
                          
    Parker would have. Shannon might, if her reaction to the wipe is anything like Parker's. Brigit, however, has never said anything that made me think she had questions, or that she was dissatisfied with how we have to live our lives. "I think she's unhappy with some of the recent decisions by the Government, and I know she's concerned about what's happening to our friends. That doesn't necessarily translate to believing we need to leave the Realms." Give her time, and with the way things have been going, she'll be easier to convince. "Not yet," I say. "She might get there."
                          
    I stroke a hand along his abdomen, pleased at his indrawn breath. Maybe someday I'll stop being amazed at his reaction to me, but for now, right now, it gives me this smug, bone-deep satisfaction, knowing I caused it. "She applied for a waiver. She got her notice the next week. Bee's sedation is really upsetting her, too." It hits me. Bee. Bee's the key. "She won't leave without her."
                          
    Drew catches my hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing the palm. "We can deal with it if it comes up." His mouth keeps going, trailing kisses down my arm. 
                          
    We're learning. I'm learning. His body fascinates me. All the dips and ridges and planes, the contrast of hard to soft. There's a spot right behind his ear that makes him groan every time. A scrape of teeth across a nipple has him cursing and bucking, and if I don't already have my hand wrapped around his penis by then, he does it for me, squeezing my hand around his length.
                          
    He could say the same about himself, though he takes his sweet time with it. A lot of places to find, he said, once he figured out what made me squirm and what made me flinch in discomfort. The first time he crooked his fingers inside me, my hips shot off the bed. Then I made him do it again.
                          
    "We should eat. The food's probably cold by now." He's nudged me onto my back and made his way to my breast, sealing his lips around my nipple and sucking, the way he discovered would have me clutching at his head and begging for more.
                          
    He stops and lifts his head. "I wanted to tell you something. I got sidetracked." 
                          
    "Gee, I wonder how that happened?"
                          
    Grinning, he stretches out on his side, a possessive hand on my stomach. "I found some old articles from magazines." The tips of his ears go red. "I loaded them onto a mini for you. I thought you might want to read them."
                          
    I'm more interested in his reaction. "Did you read them?" The red flows over his cheekbones, and I grin. "Excellent. Sure, I'll read them. Am I going to blush like you?"
                          
    "Shut up," he mutters. As he rolls over and stands up, I get a great view of his ass, the taut muscles bunching and flexing as he walks to the bathroom. It stirs something low in my belly, and the heat in his eyes when he glances back kicks it up a notch. "I thought you were hungry?"
                          
    My stomach rumbles in agreement. I climb off the bed and join him in the bathroom to clean up. We pull on clothes and wander over to the living area and our trays of food. The pasta I'd requested is cold, as is the soup. I could send it back. I've done it before, ordered food and forgotten it was there until hours later. 
                          
    I'm too hungry to care, though, and curl up on the couch with the plate of pasta balanced on my lap.
                          
    Drew sets his dinner on the table and goes about cutting into a chicken breast. "I found some other stuff, too," he says between bites.