15. Savannah
Alittle over two hours after we’d left Chicago, we arrived in Somerton, a small town in Maryland that was an hour west of Annapolis, where Ben, Mai, and I had attended high school together. I’d heard the town name, but I’d never been here. Kyle, who was driving, kept up small talk with Ryan, who was riding shotgun. Ben and I had scooted to opposite sides of the back seat, but a few minutes into the drive, he’d placed his hand over the middle line, and I’d wrapped my fingers around his.
“Here we are, home sweet home.” Kyle glanced into the rearview mirror at us. “For now.”
We were in front of a brick office building on a street with both homes and office buildings. The light from the street lamps illuminated well-manicured lawns and neatly trimmed bushes in front of mostly dark homes. After all, it was the middle of the night. I wondered if the neighbors worried about what was happening on their block at this hour.
“Our facilities are right out in the open?” Ben asked.
“Right along with the other civilians,” Wheeler said. “You’ll get briefed up tomorrow, but the quick version: There’s no problem with you telling people you’re former military or a government contractor. They’re used to that around here. But the party line is that we provide security services.”
“And do we?” Ben asked.
Wheeler glanced at both of us without answering, then stepped out of the car.
The front door was secured with a series of locks that appeared to include numbers, Kyle’s thumbprint, and his retina scan. The four of us stepped inside the single-width metal door and into a large space that was instantly lit by automated overhead lights.
I furrowed my brow. “It looks like a big gym.”
“Give the lady a prize.” Ryan grinned at me. “The team does indoor workouts here. There’s also lots of workout space outside, and of course, there’s always the option of running through our quaint little town.” He glanced at Ben. “I know how you Ranger boys love to run.”
Ben tensed his shoulders but remained silent.
Kyle spoke in a loud, tour-guide voice. “To our left, you can see through the half-glass walls that we have IT, then the logistics and tactical team rooms.” He pointed to the right, which had identical half-glass walls. “Over here, our unclassified conference room and the team leader’s office.” He pointed straight ahead. “Along the back of the building, we have the team lounge and the kitchen. Back exit to our left, stairs to the upper floors to the right.” He glanced at me. “There’s an elevator over there, as well.”
“How many floors are there?” I asked.
“Four,” Kyle said. “Second floor has more offices, the medical bay, the SCIF. That’s the Secret Compartmentalized Information Facility. Basically, a conference room for classified work. Third and fourth floors are efficiency apartments.”
Ryan signaled for us to follow him. “We’ll take the elevator,” he fake-whispered to me. “Your friend looks pretty wiped.”
Ben was a study in patience as he ignored Ryan’s goading. Maybe he really was tired. Or maybe, like me, he was preoccupied with what would come next. We’d each have our own efficiency apartment, but I didn’t know how far away from him I’d be or whether anyone would even care if we wandered into each other’s rooms for the night. I didn’t know the rules of an organization like this.
We exited the elevator on the third floor. Kyle hitched his thumb to the right. “Wheels and I are down this way.” He pointed left. “All the rooms down that way are set up but unoccupied. Help yourselves.”
“Thanks,” Ben and I said at the same time.
Kyle waved goodnight and headed down the hall.
Ryan smiled at me. “You need anything, you come knock on my door. Room 307.” He winked, then followed Kyle.
When they were out of earshot, Ben let out a long breath. “Aussie asshole,” he muttered.
“You handled that well, not rising to the bait.”
“You forget I grew up with two annoying-as-fuck siblings.”
He carried my bag for me, and I rolled my suitcase behind me. With every step, weariness sank deeper into my bones. He led us to the end of the hall. He pushed open the doors to the left and the right.
“They look like mirror images,” he said. “Do you have a preference?”
Part of me wished he would have asked if I wanted to share one room. But we’d been up close and personal—way too personal—for the past two days.
“This works.” I stepped into the room to the left.
He set my bags inside the door. “If you need anything—”
“I know. Knock on Ryan’s door.”
His face darkened. “Not funny.” He winked dramatically, imitating Ryan, and we both laughed as he headed into his own apartment.
I closed and locked my door, then surveyed my temporary home. It looked like a long-term hotel rental, all beige and neat and unlived in. There was a big open area with a sofa, chair, and TV to the left, and kitchen counters and appliances to the right. The bedroom was larger than the room Ben and I had shared last night, with plenty of space all around the king-size bed. There were nightstands on each side, another TV on the wall, a desk under the window, and a small dresser beside that.
The en suite was very white and sparkling clean. I sighed with happiness. A clean bathroom always did my heart good. I took a quick shower, brushed my teeth, and crawled between the bed’s crisp, clean sheets.
I stared wide-eyed into the darkness.
I was wired with pent-up adrenaline and nowhere to go. Last night, I’d burnt off my excess energy with Ben. Now that I knew we were alone at our end of the hall, I could easily knock on his door. But he had looked exhausted.
After a few minutes, I switched on a lamp and hopped out of bed. I unpacked my clothes into the closet and dresser drawers. I set up my toiletries in a neat row on a glass rack in the bathroom. I lined up my boots and sneakers on the closet floor. The last thing I took out of my suitcase was the box with my designer blue heels. I placed them gently on top of the dresser. A reminder from home, of who I was, of what I’d built. Of what I might lose.
I climbed back into bed but didn’t feel any more tired. I wondered if Ben was asleep. I imagined him climbing into his bed, the cool sheets against his warm skin. Did he ache for me the way I ached for him? Maybe he was worried he’d wake me. Maybe he was touching himself right now, wishing I was touching him, tasting him, taking him inside me. I imagined him holding his thick, hard dick in his hand. Stroking it. Pumping hard. Moaning my name as he got himself off.
I slid my hand under my T-shirt and slipped my fingers under the top of my shorts. A small noise startled a gasp from me. I sat up and switched the lamp back on. The noise came again, louder this time. A knock on the door. Had my fantasy summoned him? I could only hope.
I practically ran to the door and pulled it open. Ben stood there in the flesh, better than any flight of fancy could ever be. I raked my gaze down his body. His erection made a tent in his shorts. He’d definitely been thinking about me, too. I gathered a handful of his T-shirt and pulled him inside.
He pushed the door closed and grabbed my ass in both his hands, lifting me up to straddle his hips and rub my sensitive bits along the length of his hard-on, rock solid and ready for me. He nibbled my throat.
I threw my head back and gasped. “What took you so long?”
He sank his teeth into my soft flesh. I writhed in his arms.
“Didn’t realize I was on a timeline,” he murmured.
“I almost started without you.”
He went still and stared down at me with hooded, hungry eyes. “Now that I would like to watch.”
“Another time.” I rocked against him. “Right now, I need this.”
He kneaded my ass and devoured my mouth as he carried me to the bedroom. He closed the door and pressed my back against it. He slid me down the length of his body, setting off sparks between my legs that shot through my veins.
We pulled off each other’s shirts. He plied my lips and nipples and the dip of my belly with his fingers and tongue. He slid off my shorts and panties together, and they pooled at my feet.
“It’s only been twenty-four hours,” he murmured against my mouth. “Why does it feel like it’s been a year?”
He slid his hand between my legs. My knees quivered. A needful heaviness settled in my breasts and low in my belly. He stroked my clit and ran his fingertip across my slit, and I could only answer with a moan.
I pushed his shorts down over his hips, desperate to have him naked and buried inside me. He stilled my hand and reached into a pocket, pulling out a condom. “My contribution to the party.” He pushed his shorts to the floor and kicked them away.
“I don’t think that’s your only contribution.” I palmed him and pumped him the way I’d imagined him doing to himself.
He sucked in his breath. He wrapped his hand around mine, and we squeezed his shaft together, drawing a long, low keening from him. He removed my hand and tore open the condom. I traced my finger through the drop of pre-cum on his tip and wriggled in anticipation. He moved slowly, so frustratingly unrushed.
“Don’t keep a lady waiting.” I bit my lower lip.
He groaned and slipped on the condom, then grasped my hips and spun me around. I placed my palms flat on the door. I parted my legs and arched my back, lifting toward him. Enticing him. Begging him.
He plowed deep into me, stretching and filling me, running his shaft along every nerve ending of my G-spot.
“Is this what you need?” he whispered, palming my breasts and rocking hard into me.
“Oh, yeah.” I panted. “Definitely a good start.”
“Pace yourself, Sav.”
I arched harder and drove back against him, defying his command. “Why?”
“Because when I’m finished fucking you here, I’m going to have you on the bed, on your hands and knees. And after that…”
He bit into the sensitive juncture between my neck and shoulder, shooting a wave of white-hot pleasure through my body, to my tits, my clit, my core.
“After that,” he murmured as he plunged into me deep and hard, pushing me higher and higher on the wave, “you’re going to put on those sexy blue shoes, and we’re going to start all over again.”