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He mumbled something under his breath that she couldn’t quite catch, and then he took a step toward her. “You’re going to find out anyway.” He lazily reached for the hidden fasteners down the front of her suit, before hooking his fingers under the seam and peeling it apart. All the while, his eye stayed on hers. “There are paths through the red cloud.”
Friday gasped. She wasn’t entirely sure if it was from the shocking information or from the heady experience of him undressing her. Even though she knew she shouldn’t be attracted to the man who held her life in his hands, she couldn’t help the pull she felt toward him. He fascinated her with his confident grace and his easy sexuality. He wasn’t like any man she’d ever known, and the urge to get closer to him was almost overwhelming.
“Paths?” Her voice seemed more husky than usual.
His eye darkened. “Like a maze. You need to know the right paths, and you need to stick to them. You can’t touch the cloud. If you do, bad things happen.” The last fastener on her suit popped open and the front gaped apart, catching on her breasts but baring her from throat to navel. “Think of it as something similar to the tunnel we went through, only deadly.”
“The tunnel we went through was deadly, too.” She could still hear the roar of the earth closing in behind them as they ran, a strange contrast to the feeling of the cool night air on her skin.
“Yeah, but not like the mist can be.” He trailed his index finger from the hollow of her throat all the way down her body to the indentation of her navel. “Never felt anything softer.”
Her skin burned in his wake.
“How will the suit and barrier cream protect me if I touch the mist?” She stepped back, away from his touch, grasping the edges of her suit to hold it together and feeling a modicum of regret that she’d removed herself from his touch.
“It will buy you time.” His gaze was intense when he looked at her. “There’s a way to counteract the mist while it’s still on the skin, before it’s absorbed. The cream buys us the time we need.”
Everything within her stilled. “You know how to counteract the mist?” she whispered.
That kind of knowledge was priceless. It was worth far more than anything she had in her head. He didn’t need her or the money she could make him. He had the potential for riches at his fingertips.
“I know how to stop the mist from being absorbed. I don’t know how to counteract it once it’s inside the body.”
“You make it sound like you know something mundane. What you’re describing is the biggest breakthrough concerning the mist in a hundred years. It could blow the scientific community wide open and change what we know about the Red Zone. Not to mention, it could make you rich. You could sell that knowledge.” Her voice began to rise at the thought. “There isn’t a ruling body on the planet that wouldn’t pay for it. Not to mention pharmaceutical companies. They would be falling over themselves to own your research. You would be famous.”
“I don’t want to be famous. I don’t want to sell what I know. I just want to live peaceably.”
“But—”
“—no buts. This is set in stone. I ain’t gonna change my mind. There’s too much at risk. This knowledge stays with me. You got t
hat?” The deadly tone from the bar was back, and it made her shiver.
“I understand.” She thought about it for a second. “No, I don’t understand, but I respect that’s what you want.”
He studied her, as though trying to assess if she meant what she said. “Good enough. Now strip. I’ll rub this on your back, and you can do your front.” He gave her a smile that would charm the pants of a saint. “Unless you want me to do both.”
“No!” The word came out like a shot, but she wasn’t entirely sure she meant it.
“Don’t worry. You’re safe with me.” He stepped closer. “For now. You need help getting that suit off?”
With her cheeks burning, Friday let the black suit drop to her ankles. She kicked off her boots and stood there dressed in nothing but her plain white panties. The chilled night air nipped at her skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake.
“Underwear, too.” His voice was hoarse; she felt the words as breath on the back of her neck.
Quickly, as though ripping off a taped dressing, she pushed her underwear down and kicked it to the side.
He groaned behind her, and Friday felt her body flush. She was standing naked. In front of a fully dressed man. Outside. It was almost too much to comprehend. Definitely too much to deal with.
“Get on with it.” The words were harsher than she’d intended.
“My pleasure.”
She felt the warmth from his body at her back and then cold cream touched her shoulder. She jerked.
“Shh, bébé, it’s gonna be fine.” He cooed the words to her, intending to soothe, but instead causing tingles of sensation to ripple over her skin.
Slowly, methodically, his hand skimmed over her shoulders and down her back. He didn’t linger. Didn’t turn his touch into something lecherous. He was gentle, but thorough, making sure to cover every inch of her skin. She found herself swaying into his touch. Her eyes drifted closed. The silence and darkness became like a cocoon. A safe place where she could just be. Where she could live without expectation and feel without reserve. For once. She felt Striker’s breath on her skin as he moved down her body. She trembled when he traced the curves of her rear, fighting the urge to arch into his touch as he caressed the cream onto her skin.
