ELEVEN
Just a Fantasy
Seven
Thighs burning, energy depleted, I flopped onto the couch and hopped right back up when something jabbed my ass. “Ow! What the hell?” My hand dug out one of Lucky’s pistols that had found a home between the cushions. “Damn it, Lucky.” The bastard never listened to me!
The ride home had exhausted me and for once, I didn’t have the energy to cuss at Lucky for leaving his shit all over the place. The coffee table had become a makeshift coat hanger as Lucky dumped his cut over it. Irritation didn’t even spark in my head; it was fogged by the blurry need for rest.
I pulled Lucky’s cut towards me now, curling myself beneath it despite the fact that I was sweating profusely and snuggled deeper into the couch.
Sleep beckoned me. The temptation to just fall into the abyss was too great. But the groceries lay on the countertops in the kitchen, waiting for me to get off my ass and put them away. I was too weak to fight the threat of sleep though.
A moment later, I felt the warmth of a palm on my forehead. “If you’re trying to cop a feel,” I snarled, frowning at the shirtless biker hovering over me, “you might actually want to move your hand lower.”
Lucky’s eyebrow arched up. “Is that an invitation?”
“Never in your life.”
He chuckled. “Well, it’s good to know that your sparkling sense of humor doesn’t fade with the threat of heat exhaustion. Do you have a headache?”
“Nope,” I lied. The dull ache in my temples wasn’t enough to cause alert in others.
“Good. But you should probably drink plenty of fluids. Biking home in the intense heat must’ve depleted the water in your body. Why the hell do you even ride that thing?”
“Thanks for the advice, doctor, but I like my bike.”
“I should’ve given you a ride home,” he muttered lowly.
“What do you mean?”
“I rode past you as you were coming home.”
“That was you?” An asshole had come close to cutting me off. I should’ve known it was him!
“Do you know anyone else who rides a white motorcycle, princess?”
“Don’t call me princess,” I snapped.
“Fine. Drink this.” A glass of water was shoved into my face. I sat up and sipped it carefully, feeling the refreshing coolness enter my system.
When I looked up, Lucky stood over me, wearing just his jeans and a growing smile. My biker roommate had a habit of walking around shirtless. I had kept my eyes away for decency’s sake before. Now, I drank him in, noticing the deep ridges of his abdomen and the happy trail that drew my eyes lower.
They widened as I discovered that his jeans did little to camouflage the erection he had. Hmm, Lucky was lucky, indeed.
Despite the water I had just consumed, my throat was parched. Need blossomed lower in my body until I became acutely aware of the aroused state I was in. Then Lucky shifted and I was snapped out of my horny trance.
“Your gun,” I began to complain but he held out his hand and wiggled his fingers. I stared at it, confused.
He canted his head. “That’s mine.” I looked down to see his cut splayed over my breasts. Oh! I had forgotten that I’d used it for a blanket in my exhausted blur. Taking it now, I shoved it into his chest as I pushed past him, pointedly ignoring the boyish smirk on his face.
Warmth brushed across my shoulder as our bodies met briefly, sending my arousal shooting higher. God, when had I last spent some quality time with my B.O.B.? It had to be days now, ever since Lucky had moved in. No wonder my libido was screaming for release.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“My groceries—”
“I’ve already put them away.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t expected him to do that for me. I turned, facing him again. “So what were you doing on the outskirts of Ward Four?”
“Had some Glory biz to take care of.”
“All the way out there?” That was unusual.
“Yeah, I needed to check on things about the food shortage we’ve been dealing with. Listen,” he began, pausing for a second as if considering before he continued. “I saw you earlier at the street market.”
So it had been Lucky whose eyes I had sensed on me earlier. My body visibly relaxed at the admission and the paranoia I felt earlier finally took a back seat. “Oh. And?”
Lucky licked his lips, drawing my attention to its fullness. “What I’m going to tell you is confidential. It’s Glory biz, but I think you could help me out.” Intrigued, I settled down into the couch again, crossing my arms over my chest as Lucky spoke. “How severe do you think our food shortage is? How many years do you predict we can go on before our resources deplete fully?”
I blew out a breath. What a loaded question. It was hard to say, but Ward Four was experiencing a steady decline in food that would no doubt create future problems for us all. “I think we’re okay right now. I mean, we’ll never return to the point where we can just walk into a grocery store and pick out fresh produce and big slabs of meat anymore. But people are starting to notice. In the future, there’s no telling what kind of provisions will be gone indefinitely.”
Lucky nodded, eyes focused on the ground, one hand up to his chin as he considered my words. “Ward Three genetically modifies all their produce. Are the chemicals they pump into them harmful to us?”
“They aren’t grown naturally, that’s for sure. So there’s always a threat that they could be harmful after repeated exposure, especially since there’s no one to regulate what kind of chemicals they use.”
Lucky’s head dropped. “Shit. That doesn’t give us a lot of options then.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
He canted his head, shooting me a small smile. “You know I can’t tell you the full story.”
“Well, I can’t help you if I don’t know the whole story.”
“Sorry, but this is Ward business. Besides, you know too much already.”
“Fine, here’s what I can tell you. A few years down the road, starvation will be a real problem for us. If I had to choose, I’d eat the genetically modified food despite the unknown threat. Who knows how long we’ll have enough to feed us all without Ward Three’s help?”
Clear blue eyes examined me carefully. I felt my body tense under the scrutiny. Did anyone ever tell him that he looked completely different when he did that? He looked less the easy-going Playgirl model and more the dangerous hitman with that intense stare. My nipples beaded against my will, arousal flaring alongside my frustration.
His eyes dropped to them, flashing bright before he drew his head up and locked his gaze on mine. I opened my mouth to speak, but he got his words in before me. “Guess you’re not just some fantasy that men beat off to,” he muttered absently.
I felt my jaw drop at the insult.
Lucky
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Shit.” Why the hell did I say that? “That came out wrong. I only meant that I hadn’t expected you to give such good advice.”
“Why ask me then?” she snapped.
I closed my eyes. What am I doing? I had asked for her help and then insulted her after. Way to go, asshole. “I’m sorry.”
Talking to Seven about the potential alliance had been a gamble. Though I hadn’t divulged all the details, there was still the possibility that she would figure it out herself. Underneath all that hair, Seven was a damn intelligent woman. And fuck, I found that extremely attractive.
When she wasn’t spewing insults or glaring at me in a projection of her hatred, I could see her rational reasoning come through crystal clear with her words. It made me stand back and wonder what else I didn’t know about her.
People thought of me as the smooth operator, the guy who had a large ration of charm hidden away so I could dish compliments out to women whenever I pleased. Except things with Seven clearly never went as I planned. What I had meant as a compliment had come out all wrong in my fumble to get it all out. I’d pissed her off. And she had every right to be mad at me. She was still glaring at me with scary intensity. “Seven, look, I didn’t mean—”
The shrill sound of my phone going off interrupted my words. I glanced at her, but she simply walked away, going up the stairs, and slamming the door of her bedroom shut behind her. Well, there went my chance to tell her that I’d managed to snag a generator for us. Sighing, I pulled out my phone, answering it. “Where are you?” Hastie asked.
“I’m at home.” I explained how I did my own investigating on the food shortage and then stopped by the house to check that Seven had made it home safely.
“We need to vote. We can’t wait any longer. Time is almost up.”
“I’m coming.”
As I snapped the phone shut, I glanced up at the closed door of Seven’s room. I’d been a fool to say those hurtful words, but knew it would make me a bigger idiot to try to barge into her room now and try to talk to her while she was fuming. If I wanted to face her again, I had to sort my own head out first.