Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Her hand slides down my chest as she steps back. I want to grab for her, but I won’t do that either, even if Atlas wasn’t standing a few feet away.
“I’ll let you get back to work,” she says softly. “Goodnight.”
She turns and leaves. Atlas gives me a long look, then files out after her.
I’m alone again, but now my heart’s pounding, and my emotions are snarled like fishing line caught in the weeds.
CHAPTER 24
KIRA
Neither of us says anything until we’re nearly halfway back to the house. I breathe in the frosty scent of pine and try to organize my thoughts.
The taste of Boyd’s mouth is still on my lips, and my pulse hasn’t settled yet. I try to gauge what Andrew’s thinking. Is he replaying the scene like I am, or has he already filed it away with the same discipline he brings to everything else?
“I hope that didn’t catch you off guard,” I say finally.
His mouth curves slightly when he glances at me. “It didn’t.”
“No?”
“I’ve noticed,” he says.
A thin laugh slips out of me before I can stop it. “I guess I should’ve known better.”
“Known what?” He frowns at me, though a smile still plays at his lips.
“I should have known you’re never off guard.”
He shakes his head and sounds amused when he says, “Occupational hazard.”
As we walk back to the house, our arms brush against each other occasionally. Each bit of contact sends awareness skittering through me, even though it’s only our winter coats that are touching.
“I don’t want to come between you and the others,” I say. “Any of you.”
His pace slows, but maybe that’s because I sound like I’m out of breath. “I have the same goal,” he says.
The certainty in his voice has a calming effect on me. I can tell he’s not reassuring me to smooth things over. He’s stating a fact, the same way he does during morning briefings.
Our arms brush again, then our hands. When his fingers finally curl around mine, it’s intentional and unhurried. He holds on loosely at first, and when I don’t pull away, his grip tightens.
His hand is warm despite the cold, and rough in a way that tells of years of hard work. Scarred and weathered. Strong. It fits around mine like it’s meant to be there.
Even though it’s only our hands touching, the rest of my body is very much involved. Warmth seeps from our point of contact out to my other limbs and swirls in my chest. The feeling drops lower into my core when I imagine his rough hands elsewhere on my body, touching me with the same careful confidence.
As if he senses the direction of my thoughts, his thumb rubs lightly over my knuckles and makes my pulse jump higher.
We walk slower than necessary, reluctant to break the moment. The wind tugs at my hair and cuts through my coat, but I’m not bothered.
“There’s a storm coming in,” he says. The clouds are thicker, and the air is heavy with the promise of snow. He squeezes my hand once. “You should go inside.”
He pauses before opening the door, and I’m ready for him to kiss me, but instead he glances toward the trees. There are cameras aimed all around the house, and though Viper will have surely seen us walking hand in hand, maybe Atlas isn’t ready to do more than that while someone’s watching.
That makes me wonder what Viper knows, and what he thinks about it all.
“I’m going to go top off the generators,” Atlas says. “I’ll be in later. You’d better get some sleep.” He squeezes my hand again, then opens the door for me, and closes it behind me when I’m inside.
For a moment, I lean against the wall inside the door, my heart full. Whatever happens, one thing is certain. I’m not walking into it blind.
And neither is he.
The storm arrives as Atlas predicted, and it hits with a vengeance.
I get flashbacks to the night I fled the city, and I thank god I’m here, safe and warm.
By morning, everything outside the compound has vanished under blankets of white, and it’s comforting to feel even more cut off from the rest of the world than before.
None of us is going anywhere, and that’s okay, because the men are well prepared for this sort of emergency, and every other sort of emergency.
Even though the three of them still mostly go about their usual daily routines, Atlas and I keep finding ourselves in the same rooms. My body lights up every time we pass each other in the kitchen or the hallways. When I’m in the laundry room folding a load of clothes, he comes in and sets his hand on my hip as he reaches something down from the top shelf.
Every brush of contact lingers a moment longer. Every look we share carries more weight than it did a week ago.