Well, except that she didn’t know if Wade had enjoyed it quite as much as she had, didn’t know if he’d found completion himself. And had no way to ask.
Silly, after what they had just shared, an experience all the more exhilarating because of the way he had brought it about, that she should feel a bit shy. But there it was.
But oh, she never would have believed that having sex while fully clothed could actually enhance the experience, could arouse her so much, could give her such a sense of primitive freedom. In a way, she supposed, it had been an updated version of dragging her away to a cave by her hair. Little finesse, a lot of hunger, and bam!
He’d lingered just long enough for her inhibitions to weaken, and then he’d forced her to shed them all. Quick, hot and ready.
And damn, it felt good.
He moved at last, just a bit, lifting a hand to stroke the back of her head, then wind a strand of her hair around his finger.
“You okay?” he asked gruffly.
“I’m fine,” she murmured. “You?”
“Pretty amazed, actually.”
At that she lifted her head and looked at him. His hard face looked softer now, and even his obsidian eyes seemed less like rock and more like deep waters. “How so?”
“I couldn’t begin to explain.”
She laid her cheek on his chest again. “Some things beggar words, I guess.”
“Maybe so.” He released the strand of her hair, and ran a fingertip along the curve of her jaw. “Were you a teacher, before?”
This man had a gift for putting a few pieces together into complete a puzzle, so she guessed it shouldn’t have surprised her that he had figured that out. “Why do you ask?”
“Something you said. Well, actually, something you started to say and never finished. You caught yourself just as you started to say the word.”
“And you finished it.”
“I do that sometimes.”
“God, you’re incredible. It’s like you read minds.”
“I’m just observant. You don’t have to tell me.”
“No, it’s okay. I was a teacher. Maybe I’ll teach again someday.”
“Was there a reason they didn’t just get you a certificate here?”
“They felt it would leave too much of a trail.” And here was reality, intruding again. She almost wanted to beat her fist on something.
“Sorry, guess I’m ruining the moment.”
She must have grown tenser, she thought. In some way he’d picked up on her reaction. He was amazing. In so many ways. Jim had been a sensitive guy, but not this sensitive. “No, I can’t hide for long from reality. Not now,” she admitted finally. “Not when there may be a threat.”
“No.” A word of agreement.
Her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. No more breaks for her today, she thought almost ruefully.
“I think,” Wade said after a moment, “that you ought to take a shower while I go make us some breakfast.”
“You’re going to do the cooking?”
“I told you I know some basics. I may not be able to turn out that pasta thing you managed last night, but I can make a mean scrambled egg, and I can cook it with anything from sunlight, to a flameless ration heater, to a candle to a stove.”
“I recommend the stove.”
“Since it’s available.”
She lifted her head and looked at him again. “How do you cook with sunlight?”
“We carry mirrors for signaling. All you have to do is set it up right.”
She nodded. “Someday you’ll have to show me.”
He rolled then, dumping her off him onto the bed. He smiled, actually smiled down at her as he raised himself on one elbow. “Shower,” he repeated. “I’ll go make some edible scrambled eggs.”
Then he gave her a quick hard kiss and was gone.
* * *
For the first time in forever, Cory thought about what she was putting on. Ordinarily she grabbed a uniform from her closet, or just a shirt and jeans, not caring which. But this morning she dithered over whether she should wear a denim skirt, the brown plaid shirt with the piped yoke or a plainer polo shirt.
Finally she told herself to stop being ridiculous, pulled on fresh jeans—in Florida jeans were rarely worn except when it was cool, but here everyone wore them even if it was hot—and the gold polo shirt. She even added a bit of lipstick and mascara, from among the few personal possessions she’d been able to bring with her: nothing that wouldn’t fit into a suitcase.
Good smells reached her as soon as she opened her bedroom door. Apparently Wade had added some bacon to the menu from the groceries he had bought yesterday, and from the aroma she could tell he’d brewed fresh coffee. Not only a second cup today, but a second pot. Now that was an extravagance she hadn’t enjoyed in far too long.
When she entered the kitchen, she found the table already set. The bacon was draining on a paper towel over a plate on the table, and a stack of toast stood on the counter beside the toaster, already buttered.
“You can cook,” she said with surprise.
“Told you. What do you think happens when we’re at some small firebase on our own? We take turns, and God help the guy who can’t even make a decent breakfast.”
A little laugh escaped her.
“And here it’s easy. You even have a toaster. Take a seat. I’ll bring you coffee.”
She sat, saying, “I thought you guys had prepackaged meals. What are they called?”
“MREs. Meals, Ready-to-Eat. Three lies in three letters. I won’t give you any of the slang names for them.”
“But you cooked anyway?”
“When we move, we move fast and travel light. Try to live off the land. Besides, what you eat affects how you smell, so it’s best to eat local diet as much as possible.”
She noticed his consistent use of the present tense, and wondered if he really found it that hard to put his years as a SEAL in the past, or if the present situation had just put him back in the mental mode as if he’d never left.
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