Last Kiss Goodnight - By Gena Showalter Page 0,100

of pleasure, the most agonizing sort of pain.

She’d needed more. Wanted more, yes, that, too, but needed was the better word. When he’d stopped, she’d expected to die. She would have traded her next breath for one touch.

And all right, okay, she’d understood his reasons, she had, but she’d still wanted to growl with dissatisfaction. She’d never experienced so much pleasure, and he’d just taken it away.

You’re pouting, she thought, and sighed. Solo deserved better than a whiny female more concerned with lovemaking than safety—especially since that very same female had stopped him from continuing a time before.

“Solo,” she said.

“Yes. That’s me. What’s with the snotty tone?”

Snotty tone! “I don’t have a—Fine, I do. I’m sorry.”

“Still frustrated?” he asked her.

“Maybe.” She glanced down at her hands; her fingers were wringing together. “I want you to know . . . feel like I should explain . . . why I wouldn’t let you do more than kiss me that time in the cage.”

“You told me. You weren’t ready.”

“And that was true. It’s just, when I was younger, just a girl, the things I witnessed in the shadows . . .” she said, and a shudder raked her. “Then I ran away and I was captured by a group of drunk boys and barely managed to wiggle my way free to hide. The things they did before I got away . . . they squeezed and it hurt, and I was so afraid, so happy when my father showed up and rescued me, and I’m rambling, I know, but that’s one of the reasons I stayed with him so long. He saved me from a terrible fate. At the circus, his name offered me some sort of protection.”

Solo moved to crouch in front of her. “Vika—”

“No, don’t say anything. It happened. I learned, and I grew. I’m okay. I just wanted you to know.”

“You were a child,” he said. “A child who grew into a guarded woman, desperate for a way out, yet still taking care of those less fortunate than herself. I understand that now.” He sighed. “I threatened you during our first meeting, and I’m not proud of myself for that. I wish I could go back and do a thousand things differently.”

She ran her fingers through the chilled locks of his hair, entranced by the softness. “Typical Solo, trying to make me feel better.”

“Always.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Listen. I revved you up last night and failed to finish you because watching you climax would have pushed me over the edge. I know you don’t blame me for deciding to wait, but your body doesn’t get it, and that’s understandable. When we’re finally together, it will be in a bed and you’ll be safe. We can do whatever we want to each other.”

“Yes, well . . .” Even talking about what they could and would do was revving her up again. She hurried to change the subject. “What’s that we’ll be dining on?”

“Don’t ask, and I won’t tell.”

“Well, how did you manage to kill this mystery meat?”

“I stumbled upon a group of hunters, waiting in a blind, and confiscated their weapons.”

She wouldn’t ask what he’d done with the hunters themselves.

“Speaking of weapons . . .” He straightened and walked to the other side of their tree trunk bed, where he lifted two rifles. “Have you ever used one of these?”

“A gun? Yes. Something that big? No.”

“I’ll give you a mini lesson before we head out. And you don’t have to worry about using it and drawing Jecis to our location with the noise. See the ends? I created a special paste to muffle the boom.”

“Oh, well, that’s great, but I already have a gun,” she said, and dug inside the bag until she found it. “It’s even loaded and everything.”

He looked at the weapon, shook his head, then looked again, a strange light entering his eyes. “The safety is off,” he said through gritted teeth.

“What safety?” She turned the barrel toward her face and—

The weapon was swiped from her grip. Solo fiddled with it, and she heard a click. He checked . . . whatever it was called, the little round center that spun, before saying, “I’ve been carrying this thing around, Vika.”

Now probably wasn’t time to say “duh.” “I know.”

“I could have shot myself. Or you! And I thought you said you’d used a gun.”

“I had. My father put one in my hand and forced me to squeeze the trigger. And guess what? I’ve got