In her excitement, she'd only half-swallowed her mouthful of oatmeal, waving her spoon at his seriously expensive bank of computers like a wand, and he didn't even care.
Okay. Maybe he cared a little bit, but it seemed like a minor concern considering the circumstances.
He'd already gotten her off at least four times and had his balls drained twice thanks to her dedicated ministrations, yet here he was again, hard as a goddamn rock because without telling her what he'd seen to suggest Rachel stashed something in the shelter, Dillon identified it on the first go.
Her brain turned him on like none other. Hell, everything she did flat out turned him on, but this was a new experience for him.
He found himself wondering whether or not his desk would be stable enough to fuck her on and was really starting to understand why Roar couldn't keep his hands off his wife.
All Nasa needed to do was shove the keyboards out of the way, yank Dillon's blanket off, pop her up on the desk, and get after it.
“Moonbase to Nasa. Come in, Nasa?” she drawled with an amused sparkle in her eye.
“It took me hours of rolling through those recordings, and you found it in five minutes. Stop turnin' me on, or I'll be forced to test the stability of my desk by fucking you on it.”
Dillon hiked her eyebrows as she turned her spoon upside down in her mouth and slowly pulled it back out, taunting him with the sexy swipe of her tongue across the metal.
“Don't threaten me with a good time.”
Muscles poised to reach out and swipe everything off the surface of his desk, the intercom near the stairs blared loudly with Duke's annoyed voice.
“Open up, you A-Team reject!”
A frustrated growl tore out of him, and Dillon got up, dancing away from him when he made to grab her, the slit of the blanket shifting to reveal the long length of her leg and the biteable curve of her ass.
She laughed at him; her entire face transformed with her happiness. Though he vowed to retaliate at a later time, Nasa found himself quickly becoming addicted to the sounds of her joy.
Nasa waited until she was safely inside the closet to slap the locking mechanism. Duke came stomping down the stairs with steam practically rolling out of his ears, Tobias a few steps behind and smirking.
Without preamble, Duke held up the pages Nasa remotely scheduled to print in the room he and Tobias were staying in.
“Not only is this the dumbest tactical plan I've ever read, I about shit myself when the printer came on at 4 a.m. like it was fuckin' possessed!”
Tobias confirmed the accusation with a taunting chuckle. “He literally rolled out of bed and hit the floor, bellowing like a tipped cow. You didn't see it on camera?”
Nasa shrugged, his attention drawn to the sound of the closet door opening. Dillon stepped out in a dark blue button-down with a gray tank underneath, an ass-hugging pair of denim shorts that left miles of her long, beautiful legs bare, and the biker boots he'd bought her.
She hadn't worn the strappy sandals he'd picked out one time. No girly heels or delicate flipflops for his woman. Reliably, she put on nut-busting steel-toed boots, constantly prepared for action, and he liked it. A lot.
“I was sleeping at four,” he said absently, watching the way Dillon came toward him, moving with a loose, languid gate that expressed her relaxation.
“Yeah, I bet you were,'” Duke grumbled rudely, which would have earned him a dirty glare, but if Nasa saw a gorgeous woman walking toward Duke with the look of absolute satisfaction Dillon had on her face, Nasa would also assume no sleeping had been involved in their evening.
“So, what's your problem with the plan?” Nasa asked, loving that Dillon came and slid her arm around his waist. He'd told her about needing to go back to Dallas, thrilled by the lackluster response she'd given him.
Before Nasa could tell her he'd already planned accordingly, Dillon shut him down about allowing any of the Perdition members to go and fetch whatever Rachel left behind.
Once he did tell her, he'd seen determination war with softness, and Dillon settled and agreed he’d worked it all out to her satisfaction.
“He doesn't have one,” Tobias announced, reaching up to tuck his hands under his armpits.
“Yes, I fuckin' do!” Duke snapped back, rustling the pages. “Everyone else gets to drive your kick-ass trucks that I've been beggin' to take out for a test run, but you've got me in the rat-ass mobile with Gimpy over here instead!”
Tobias was due to get his cast off soon, but Nasa didn't think they had time to wait. His gut told him getting to whatever Rachel found before the Leviathans decided to bring heavy artillery to the shelter and blow their way inside was urgent.
Those fuckers weren't going to be patient for long.
Nasa shrugged, doing his best not to advertise his reaction to Dillon putting her hand in his back pocket to squeeze his ass.
“I wouldn't be using the BOTs unless absolutely necessary, and if you're so unhappy with the plan, you don't have to come. The fewer people we've got, the more likely we are to go unnoticed.”
“Unnoticed?” Duke spluttered outrageously. “Do I gotta remind you the average height for a man in America is five foot seven, Gigantor? With Shieldmaiden Barbie on your arm, and Hellhoundzilla on your six, the last thing you're gonna go is unnoticed.”
Dillon chortled in amusement. “I think that was a compliment, but you don't need to worry about us being noticed.
"There's a secondary entrance to the shelter in the adjacent building. It's a warehouse with a roll up door to drive the truck right inside. We won't be seen on the street at all.”
Tobias made a sound of approval. “Good deal. Don't mind Duke, he's just pissed because he screamed like a girl and
