Being Emerald. Sylvia Ryan

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СКАЧАТЬ the suddenly silent great room lowered five degrees when she walked out the door, and the pervasive feeling of solitude returned. The woman was a storm, churning up long repressed feelings he’d buried deep. She brought some life back into what had only been an existence two days before.

      In his downstairs bathroom, he stripped himself of his jeans and turned on the shower. While he waited for the water to warm, he looked at himself in the mirror as if through Laila’s eyes, assessing things he hadn’t paid much attention to for a year. He was haggard with a week’s worth of whiskers shading the lower half of his face. His once super-short cut, worn when he was in the Amber police department, was now shaggy to the collar of his T-shirt. The combination made him look wild. He shaved in the accumulating steam and then stepped into the shower.

      The original plan of glossing over the training so he could focus on more terrorism while in the city was out. He’d assumed Laila was just another snooty academic raised in privilege and viewing him as the help. One who, he’d thought, would have a stick prominently stuck up her ass and be a pain in his. What one night did to his perspective was mind-boggling. This was not that.

      He cared. She roused his protective feelings and it left him feeling like an itch in just the right part of his brain had finally been scratched. Her voice strummed the horrible silence away. His soul purred with anticipation of what was to come. He hadn’t been looking for a companion, yet here she was. She had his name written all over her in blinking neon lights.

      Now, he was more suspicious than ever that Morgan was fucking with him and setting them both up to die. He ran down training exercises he might be able to use to help her master some of the skills he’d neglected during his initial planning. He needed to train her to follow a command without question and defend herself whether he was with her or not. To some degree, he’d done it twice before. Not overly well, since Emily was dead. He’d been easy on his girls back then, indulging their playful acts of defiance. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes this time.

      Over the din of the shower spray, Rock heard Laila enter the house and call his name.

      “In here. I’ll be out in a second.” He finished quickly, stepped out of the shower and dried off. He’d forgotten to bring clothes into the bathroom with him, so he wrapped the damp towel around his waist and strode to his clothes piled haphazardly next to his duffel bag.

      Laila sat, waiting on the couch, following him with her gaze. He grabbed his pants from the floor and released the towel from his waist.

      Chapter 5

      Ho-ly Crap. Laila had thought no man could look sexier than Rock, when she’d finally gotten a good look at him yesterday before the meeting. But the twenty-four-hours-ago Rock was just crushed by the right-this-second Rock, hands down.

      He was broad and tanned, with water dripping from the ends of his tousled hair and landing on his shoulders. Droplets rolled seductively down his chest past so sexy nipple rings and badass tattoos. She wanted to catch the drops with her tongue. No need for that pesky towel. He was perfect. Muscled, but not too much, obviously powerful, and with an air of danger that wrapped the irresistible package up in a bow. The day she’d noticed those little gold rings in his nipples, winking in the sun as he jogged around the compound, she couldn’t drag her eyes away. She’d stolen quick glimpses of his tattoos, and wondered what words meant so much to him he had them permanently written into his skin. Good God, no man had a right to be that gorgeous. He probably had women drooling all over him. Beautiful women, like Sydney with the striking green eyes. Laila wondered how much he availed himself to them.

      She was nothing special, painfully average compared to the women outside the Amber Zone. Her self-esteem had always come from her intellect. She was intelligent, but rarely does one hear a man brag about how smart his woman is. She used to be spontaneous and fun, happy. Those great qualities had disappeared since she’d left Amber.

      He said, “I’ll be ready in a minute. Then, we can go.”

      “Okay.” The word came out guttural. She cleared her throat quietly and continued her appreciation.

      He turned just enough to give her an eyeful. Oh my God. He was circumcised. She’d never seen one like that before. Growing up in Amber, she’d seen many naked men up close and personal. None of them looked like that.

      It answered one question about Rock. He was definitely older than she, old enough to be born in a world where medical care was available for everybody.

      She was not. Laila had been one of the first babies born in New Atlanta, her mom having traveled pregnant to the relative safety of the city.

      She glanced from his cock to his face and found him looking at her, the side of his mouth curling up.

      “Everything okay?” He pulled pants over his muscular ass. No underwear.

      “Yes.”

      He buttoned, zipped, and then walked to where she sat. “Your mouth says yeah, but your face says no.”

      “Nope. I’m good.”

      “Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on you today.”

      She nodded, happy to be distracted from the direction her thoughts had been going. Visions of military type boot camp had made her wary of mission prep for months.

      His boots were set in a wide stance, anchoring girders wrapped in blue jeans. He appeared invincible. He turned and a lock of his shiny black hair fell on his forehead like a comma. Like Superman. He reached toward her and his biceps bulged under his black T-shirt. “Come on. Time to start your training.”

      Laila spent the morning trying to wrangle some focus from her brain. Side by side, they leaned over a map of the eastern US while he traced the route they’d be taking. She found the size of his hands and the smell of his soap infinitely more fascinating. He taught her the mix ratio of gas and the additive that would make fuel out in the Onyx Zone useable, but she found it hard to turn her attention away from the veins hugging his forearms as he poured. The morning had been a little boring and gave her mind too much time to wander.

      After lunch, they knelt side by side while he patiently taught her CPR and first aid. His words fanned over her skin when he knelt with her over the CPR dummy. His gentle brown eyes met hers every few seconds, assessing whether she understood. First aid was a hands-on activity. They spent the early afternoon in each other’s personal space. His gentle example of tourniquet tying on her upper thigh prompted goosebumps and tummy twirls with every brush of his fingers against her sensitive skin. She could be in real trouble with this man. He’d be so easy to fall in love with.

      Before she knew it, it was two o’clock, and Rock let her go for the day. She scrambled down the corridor of the main building, purposely losing him. Afraid he would offer her a ride, she slipped out of OZ without saying goodbye.

      The streets were relatively empty during the trek from one end of the Emerald Zone to the other. The heavy military presence kept the streets absent of terrified civilians. It wasn’t far. The zone was small, a residential neighborhood, a strip mall and various military and governmental compounds.

      Bizarre. She was calm. Maybe because she’d had a lot of time to mentally prepare. Next month would mark a year since the organizers of the Sapphire Resistance, Jordan Ford and Kate O’Connor, visited her apartment. Thanks to the video piece about the mission, it was common knowledge Laila was going to be given Emerald status before she left for DC. Her Emerald designation gave her entry to places inaccessible to most. They СКАЧАТЬ