tersely.
Jess rolled so that her hip was in the air and extended her left leg.
She heard his swift intake of breath. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." He pressed a pad with rubbing alcohol on the cut. The sting took her by surprise but she didn't even make a murmur. With gentle strokes, he cleaned the small wound, his movements almost a caress. Then with tender fingers, he smoothed some anti-bacterial Neosporin over the cut.
His actions were oddly arousing. He brushed his fingers lightly against her skin as he attached the bandage. Jess flushed as her body responded to the soft strokes, remembering the last time he'd had his hands on her thighs. Arousal flooded her.
Jess ignored the gust of awareness that blew through her. What the hell? But she noted how gentle he was with his hands. He'd been like this the last time they'd been together too. As if he knew with absolute certainty how much pressure to use, how hard or soft to touch her, how to caress her to evoke whatever sensation he wanted.
Now it was calming, soothing but before it had been arousing. He'd been able to manipulate her reactions with just the press of his fingers against her skin.
"That should do it." He swirled one last caress against her ultra-sensitive thigh and then removed his hands. She was pretty sure she imagined that his fingers lingered on the back of her leg.
"Let's get going." Jess inwardly cringed at the gruffness of her words.
Colin snapped the first aid kit closed and tossed it back to her. "Fine by me."
Jess put the kit back in the glove box.
She was the one acting weird. She knew it and yet she couldn't seem to turn off her awareness of him. She was the one who couldn't seem to forget the memories of them together. He hadn't mentioned it once. He'd been nothing but professional. This was the perfect time to ask him how he came to be heading the relief effort in Port-du-Bois.
But before she could delve into his reasons for working for Jack, he said, "You need to hide the backpack." Colin gestured to the cracked blue plastic dash. "There's a hidden compartment behind the dash."
"Can't I just put under the seat?"
Colin's intuition was going haywire this morning. It was part of the reason that he'd decided to have Keisha stay in camp. There were rumors that the government had doubled the checkpoints. The relief organizations had been grumbling because the extra security added hours of time and delays in getting aid to the people who needed it the most.
"Humor me," Colin said tersely. Something was off. And he didn't want to be caught unawares by a random patrol or security stop. They couldn't afford to have the rifle discovered. Not only would the military take it, there would be uncomfortable questions about why they had one in the first place.
He turned the key smoothly and listened to the engine rumble for a second before he shifted into reverse. Colin propped his arm on the back of the seat, his hand perilously close to her shoulder. The cab of the truck shrunk by about two hundred percent. Suddenly he was hyper-aware of his fingers so close to her bare skin. But Jess held herself stiff and stubbornly refused to relax against the cracked old vinyl.
He gunned the engine and they shot out of the relief compound at the disabled airport and headed toward their destination.
The air conditioner in the old truck had seen better days. Tepid air chugged out of the vents, minimally cooling the interior of the truck. It was still better than the air from outside, stifling with the heat and dust and decay. The scent was nearly unbearable.
Jess breathed through her nose and thought of a delicate way to begin this conversation. They were confined in the truck with no one to overhear. Then she decided, fuck it. He was the new guy. It seemed an odd coincidence that they both started working for a relief organization at the same time. "How did you end up working for GHR?"
"I owed your brother a favor," Colin said shortly.
Wait, so Colin knew her
Jess rolled so that her hip was in the air and extended her left leg.
She heard his swift intake of breath. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." He pressed a pad with rubbing alcohol on the cut. The sting took her by surprise but she didn't even make a murmur. With gentle strokes, he cleaned the small wound, his movements almost a caress. Then with tender fingers, he smoothed some anti-bacterial Neosporin over the cut.
His actions were oddly arousing. He brushed his fingers lightly against her skin as he attached the bandage. Jess flushed as her body responded to the soft strokes, remembering the last time he'd had his hands on her thighs. Arousal flooded her.
Jess ignored the gust of awareness that blew through her. What the hell? But she noted how gentle he was with his hands. He'd been like this the last time they'd been together too. As if he knew with absolute certainty how much pressure to use, how hard or soft to touch her, how to caress her to evoke whatever sensation he wanted.
Now it was calming, soothing but before it had been arousing. He'd been able to manipulate her reactions with just the press of his fingers against her skin.
"That should do it." He swirled one last caress against her ultra-sensitive thigh and then removed his hands. She was pretty sure she imagined that his fingers lingered on the back of her leg.
"Let's get going." Jess inwardly cringed at the gruffness of her words.
Colin snapped the first aid kit closed and tossed it back to her. "Fine by me."
Jess put the kit back in the glove box.
She was the one acting weird. She knew it and yet she couldn't seem to turn off her awareness of him. She was the one who couldn't seem to forget the memories of them together. He hadn't mentioned it once. He'd been nothing but professional. This was the perfect time to ask him how he came to be heading the relief effort in Port-du-Bois.
But before she could delve into his reasons for working for Jack, he said, "You need to hide the backpack." Colin gestured to the cracked blue plastic dash. "There's a hidden compartment behind the dash."
"Can't I just put under the seat?"
Colin's intuition was going haywire this morning. It was part of the reason that he'd decided to have Keisha stay in camp. There were rumors that the government had doubled the checkpoints. The relief organizations had been grumbling because the extra security added hours of time and delays in getting aid to the people who needed it the most.
"Humor me," Colin said tersely. Something was off. And he didn't want to be caught unawares by a random patrol or security stop. They couldn't afford to have the rifle discovered. Not only would the military take it, there would be uncomfortable questions about why they had one in the first place.
He turned the key smoothly and listened to the engine rumble for a second before he shifted into reverse. Colin propped his arm on the back of the seat, his hand perilously close to her shoulder. The cab of the truck shrunk by about two hundred percent. Suddenly he was hyper-aware of his fingers so close to her bare skin. But Jess held herself stiff and stubbornly refused to relax against the cracked old vinyl.
He gunned the engine and they shot out of the relief compound at the disabled airport and headed toward their destination.
The air conditioner in the old truck had seen better days. Tepid air chugged out of the vents, minimally cooling the interior of the truck. It was still better than the air from outside, stifling with the heat and dust and decay. The scent was nearly unbearable.
Jess breathed through her nose and thought of a delicate way to begin this conversation. They were confined in the truck with no one to overhear. Then she decided, fuck it. He was the new guy. It seemed an odd coincidence that they both started working for a relief organization at the same time. "How did you end up working for GHR?"
"I owed your brother a favor," Colin said shortly.
Wait, so Colin knew her
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