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“Ah.” Smith nodded. “Hence the statement, you could take me down easily.”
“I said quickly, not easily, I believe.” Val wagged a finger at him.
Smith took another bite of his sandwich, covering his smile. She’d said quickly. He changed the subject. “The house you live in was built in 1560.”
She nodded. “A long time ago. I can’t imagine what life then was like.”
“It was a time of treachery and war. Queen Elizabeth the First successfully fought multiple attempts to usurp her. Protestants and Catholics were divided by events of the time, both in the church and politics. Life was not easy.”
Val wrapped her arms around her knees and stared into the small meadow. “It never is, it seems.”
“Easy times make weak men.” He believed that old saying. Strength came from adversity and hardships.
She nodded. “The people I’ve …” she glanced up at him, then continued, “… dealt with for Guardian have money and power. The preponderance have no spine. With no fortitude, they send minions to do their bidding. Evil men are never as strong as those who struggle against them.”
Smith laid back on the blanket and watched the gray clouds churn above him. “I was one of those minions.”
She startled. “I didn’t mean—”
He put a hand on her arm. “I know, but I agree with you. Evil men have an internal need, or perhaps a sickness, that drives them to do whatever it takes to pass as strong. To make people fear them.”
Val held out her hand. “Is it raining?”
A sprinkle pelted him on the cheek. He sat up. “It is.” Looking over the meadow, he pointed. “We’re about to be very wet.” Sheets of rain were visible across the brook.
“Crud,” Val exclaimed. They chucked everything into the basket and took off at a run to the house. About halfway, the rain caught them, and they were soaking wet by the time they made it to the cottage.
Val started stripping at the front door. “Take your clothes off. We’ll need to dry them in front of the fire.” She hopped on one foot as she pulled her wet slacks off. Smithson reached behind him and pulled off his shirt.
Val was in front of him, naked. She reached for his belt and unfastened it and his slacks. The shirt hit the tile with a wet splat. He ran his hand through her hair, pulling off the wet wig and shaking her hair loose, letting it fall to her shoulders. He toed off his shoes and stepped out of his slacks when they hit the floor. “Where’s the bedroom?”
“Upstairs.” Val lifted to her toes and kissed his chin. He covered her lips with his and leaned down, lifting her off her feet. He broke the kiss to maneuver through the unfamiliar house. The stairs led to a loft bedroom with a king-sized bed, which he laid her down on. Smith had never had an addiction. He didn’t understand those who did until then. The physical high he flew on when he was with her was ambrosia … something he’d fight for. Yes, he could see how addiction worked.
Their tongues danced, and she pushed on him. He lifted immediately.
“On your back.” She pushed him with one finger, and he moved, rolling off her. She straddled him and resumed the kiss. He caressed her soft skin, drawing a finger up her ribcage. Her skin shivered under his touch and his tightened under hers. Smithson didn’t know how long they touched and kissed. It could have been minutes or hours before she circled his cock and slowly lowered herself onto him. He grabbed her shoulders, and his legs shook with the effort it took not to thrust. His cock was a diamond-hard, greedy son of a bitch, but he kept still as she lifted and lowered. She took his hands and placed them on her breasts. He opened his eyes that had somehow closed and watched as her body literally danced on him. She was sensuous, nimble, and fluid, and the feel of her moving while he forced his body to remain still was erotic as hell.
His breath was coming in ragged pulls by the time she lost her rhythm. She opened her eyes and looked at him. A faint sound from her was all he needed. He rolled them and lifted her leg, pushing into her using a rapid, sharp movement. She grabbed his shoulders, arched her back, and yelled, “Yes!”
At that moment in time, he was the king of the world. Nothing or no one could have told him differently. He pushed himself as he drove into her. He couldn’t hold back, and he sure as hell didn’t want to. She shattered just as he did. The combined sensation of her body tightening around him as he shot was beyond anything he’d ever experienced. He rested his head against her pillow as he caught his breath, his weight held up on his elbow. When he could think again, he let go of her leg. It flopped to the bed, and she chuckled. “I can’t feel them yet.”
He lifted his head and met her gaze. “Did I hurt you?”
She gave a winded laugh, “Not a chance.”
He leaned to his side and pulled her with him as he went. She yawned. “We should hang the clothes up and start a fire.” Val tucked under his chin and pulled the covers over them.
“In a minute.” He wrapped her in his arms, perfectly content and happy. It was a sensation that didn’t often happen in his life. For once, he just wanted to close his eyes and enjoy the feeling.
10
Jewell King glanced over at the message board she used to communicate with other people in her profession. It wasn’t exactly a legal system. Her standalone dark net computer was shielded and impossible for anyone to access. Still, all super hackers used the dark web, and she kept up with her contemporaries. A new message blinked in solidarity.
> QOTK TIRL ASAP CON
She leaned forwardand read it again. “Ruh-roh, Scooby.”
“Problems?” her husband said from his tiny desk tucked in the corner of what was once their living room. Man, they needed to move to the Annex. The work was almost done there. She and Zane would live in the underground facility, and Ethan would have his own apartment. She couldn’t wait for the place to be done. She was starting to feel claustrophobic. Plus, she hated being in Washington.Hated it. The farther she was from the old Guardian building, the better. The memories were too fresh, too vivid, and all too deadly.
