I smiled. "I think we're safe for the moment."
He curved his fingers around my hand, and a tingle went up my arm like he'd touched a nerve. He rubbed his thumb in small circles on the back of my hand and took a deep breath. "It's almost nice to know that this assassin business has unnerved you, too. I don't want you afraid, but sometimes it's hard to be your guy when I think you may be braver than I am. That sounds like macho crap, doesn't it?"
I stared up at him. "There's a lot of macho crap out there, Richard. At least you know it's crap."
"Can this male chauvinist wolf kiss you?"
"Always."
He leaned his face downward, and I rose on tiptoe to meet his mouth with mine, my free hand against his chest for balance. We could kiss without me going on tiptoe, but Richard tended to get a crick in his neck.
It was a quicker kiss than normal because I had this itching in the middle of my back, right between the shoulder blades. I knew it was my imagination, but I felt too exposed out in the open.
Richard sensed it and pulled away. He went around to the driver's side of his car and opened his door, leaning across to unlock mine. He didn't open the door for me. He knew better than that. I could open my own bloody door.
Richard's car was an old Mustang, sixty something, a Mach One. I knew all this because he had told me. It was orange with a black racing stripe. The bucket seats were black leather, but the front seat was small enough that we could hold hands when he wasn't using the gear shift.
Richard pulled out onto 270 South. Friday night traffic spilled around us in a bright sparkle of lights. Everybody out trying to enjoy the weekend. I wondered how many of them had assassins after them. I was betting I was one of the few.
"You're quiet," Richard said.
"Yeah."
"I won't ask what you're thinking about. I can guess."
I looked at him. The darkness of the car wrapped around us. Cars at night are like your own private world, hushed and dark, intimate. The lights of oncoming traffic swept over his face, highlighting it, then leaving us in darkness.
"How do you know I'm not thinking about what you'd look like without your clothes on?"
He flashed me a grin. "Tease."
I smiled. "Sorry. No sexual innuendo unless I'm willing to jump your bones."
"That's your rule, not mine," Richard said. "I'm a big boy. Give me all the sexual innuendo you want, I can take it."
"If I'm not going to sleep with you, it doesn't seem fair."
"Let me worry about that," he said.
"Why, Mr. Zeeman, are you inviting me to make sexual overtures to you?"
His smile widened, a whiteness in the dark. "Oh, please."
I leaned toward him as far as the seat belt would allow, putting a hand on the back of his seat, putting my face inches from the smooth expanse of his neck. I took a deep breath in and let it out, slowly, so close to his skin that my own breath came back to me like a warm cloud. I kissed the bend of his neck, running my lips lightly up and down the skin.
Richard made a small, contented sound.
I curled my knees into my seat, straining against the seat belt so I could kiss the big pulse in his neck, the curve of his jaw. He turned his face into me. We kissed, but my nerves weren't that good. I turned his face away. "You watch the road."
He shifted gears, his upper arm brushing against my br**sts. I sighed against him, putting my hand over his, holding it on the gear shift, keeping his arm pressed against me.
We stayed frozen for a second, then he moved against me, rubbing. I scooted out from under his arm, settling back into my seat. I couldn't breathe past the pulse in my throat. I shivered, hugging myself. The feel of his body against mine made places all over my body tighten.
"What's wrong?" he said, his voice low and soft.
I shook my head. "We can't keep doing this."
"If you stopped because of me, I was enjoying myself."