The adrenaline from last night kept us up, so we played Battleship. Not a euphemism. I made her strip every time I sank one of her ships, but in the end, she was fully-clothed and I was fully-naked. As competitive as I am, it was fun watching her kick my ass and get cocky about it.
Then we cuddled. And kissed. And cuddled again. I’ve never experienced anything so sensual without actually having sex. My heart was pounding, and she had me hard as fuck, but we connected with each other in a way that was equally powerful. We stayed in each other’s arms until sunrise.
A few minutes ago, her phone beeped with a GPS notification that his car was in motion, and she’s been wearing a hole in my rug since.
“Thank you,” she says, to the 911 dispatcher, ending the call. She runs her fingers through her hair. “They’re sending an officer.”
Now that the erratic driving has been called in, it’s out of our hands. “Come here.”
She walks over to me, and I pull her back into bed. She groans and picks at her fingernails.
“Did Four send the information to the financial agency?”
She smiles and rolls her eyes. “His name is Seven, and yes.”
“Dude sounds like a fucking psycho.”
“Well, that psycho is the one who’s getting our info to the right people.” Jordan flips her hair. “He said I was a natural and even asked if I was interested in getting into his line of work.”
I laugh. “Shit, I’d say the same after watching you go all Mission Impossible last night.”
She giggles. “Did you call Alexis?”
“Yeah, she’s already on her way to NYC to start digging.”
She nods and takes a deep breath. “Now we wait.”
“Now we wait . . . It’s going to work.”
She opens up her phone, and we watch the Lexus’s GPS dot creep down the highway. A few minutes pass. Then it stops.
She jolts up. “It’s stopped. Cam he’s stopped. On the highway.”
I appear calm on the outside, but my anxious thoughts are racing. I’m just as keyed-up as she is.
We wait . . . and wait . . . and wait . . .
The car never moves.
