Read The Gunfighter and The Gear-Head for Free Online Page B

too.”
     
    “Is there anything you’re not going to
enjoy?” Fiona grumbled.
     
    “I’m not sure. Why don’t you start doing
things to me, and I’ll let you know when I don’t like one of
them?”
     
    “You’re infuriating!”
     
    “Look, you can keep doing what you’re doing,
alone, trying to hide your past while slipping under everyone’s
radar, or you can try something worthwhile, find someone to care
about you, and become something great,” Gieo said. “Remember what
we talked about earlier? Whoever adapts and recovers the fastest
survives.”
     
    Fiona hated when other people started making
sense.
     
    “I don’t like being told what to do!” Fiona
punctuated each worth with a hard slap of her open palm against
Gieo’s already red behind. As much as she intended the swats to
hurt, the pilot still seemed more aroused by them than anything
else.
     
    “Fair enough,” Gieo moaned. “You can tell me
what to do.”
     
    Fiona left her hand on the warm curve of
Gieo’s behind; the heat rising off the spanked portions thrilled
her far more than she expected. The possessiveness she felt
regarding the pilot was manifesting itself in some peculiar ways,
and Fiona believed, on a very instinctive level, that what was
beneath her hand was not only hers to protect, but hers to do with
as she pleased, and not just because Gieo all but said as much.
     
    “I don’t know what I want,” Fiona
murmured.
     
    “No kidding.” Gieo made quick work of the
belt around her wrists, undoing the bonds from the inside out,
retrieving her hands easily. She rolled across the bed away from
Fiona toward the opposite edge. Hooking the heels of her boots on
the footboard, she pulled her feet from them and inched her pants
the rest of the way down to toss them off the bed as well.
     
    “How do you keep your clothes so clean?”
Fiona asked.
     
    “I have these incredible machines that do it
for me,” Gieo snarled. “I’m thinking of calling them a washing
machine and a dryer.” Gieo rolled onto her side, facing the wall,
with her back to Fiona.
     
    Fiona couldn’t keep from staring at the
delicate curve of Gieo’s hips, the slender waist hugged by the
jacket, and the artistic line where her shapely, slender legs met
the round swell of her ass. Something long dormant tried to claw
its way out of the darkest recesses that Fiona had banished it to;
she wanted Gieo, not just sexually, although, at the moment, carnal
lust dominated her thoughts about the purple-haired pilot, but
wanted to be around her, to listen to her talk, to have Gieo’s hand
resting on her thigh when she drove. It was difficult to admit how
lonely she’d been, and even more difficult considering the first
person who might quell the loneliness was exotic, intriguing, and
hotter than the Arizona sun.
     
    “Do you want to make out?” Fiona asked and
nearly pistol-whipped herself immediately after for how
astoundingly stupid and childish the words sounded when left to
hang in the air.
     
    Gieo rolled over onto her back with a grin
that looked to be comprised of equal parts delight, disbelief, and
sarcasm. Fiona felt her cheeks warm with a furious blush. She
couldn’t remember the last time anyone or anything had made her
blush, let alone something as innocuous as a grin. Every second
Gieo went without actually saying yes or no to the request
compounded the embarrassment until Fiona was on the edge of jumping
out of her own skin.
     
    “Sure,” Gieo finally said. She reached up
with both hands, grabbed the front of Fiona’s denim jacket, and
pulled her down until their lips met.
     
    What Fiona perceived as her relative sexual
inexperience, compounded by six years of rust, left her breathless
and stunned by the pilot’s verve. Her primary concern, aside from
figuring out how to breathe effectively without actually letting
her lips part from Gieo’s for one second, was to get more
skin-on-skin contact. Gieo seemed to sense Fiona’s desire,