“Sometimes you have to take a chance. Go with your gut instinct.”
“It’s not my gut advising me right now,” Ryan admitted, feeling another kind of warmth, this time from the inside of his body, starting to spread along his groin.
“Good.” Krysty pushed aside the edge of the curtain, stepping into the shower stall with him. Her fair white skin was in sharp contrast to Ryan’s darker body as she turned to face him. He could see a light dusting of freckles on her shoulders and he fought the urge to reach out and cover them with caresses.
“Need some help scrubbing your back?” she asked, reaching down and doing delicious things with her fingers.
“That’s not my back,” Ryan said distractedly.
“You want me to stop?”
“Not on your life.”
Krysty laughed, a sensual, throaty sound that aroused Ryan even more. The tone of her laugh revealed a hint of the earthy lust he knew took over her mind and body during these interludes.
Ryan reached out a hand of his own, sliding the washcloth from her neck down to her breasts.
“You wash my back and I’ll wash yours,” he murmured, rubbing the cloth gently in ever tightening circles over her left breast, then her right, then back to her left. Both nipples were now erect as Krysty sighed deeply. Ryan kept rubbing, varying the pressure from hard to soft, sometimes focusing directly on the nipple, sometimes on the soft underside of the breast.
“Been too long since we’ve had—” she began, then Ryan covered her mouth with his own.
“No talking,” he whispered. “All I hear, day in, day out, is talk. Not now.”
At first the kisses were soft, teasing, but quickly escalated into a flurry of rapid tongue movements and quick inhalations. Krysty’s soft breath exploded from her nostrils as Ryan lifted her up and pushed himself fully into her inviting soft warmth. They met at the waist, joined, and he had to freeze, lengthening the pleasure before sliding himself back and almost out before thrusting back in.
Once again, as he gazed down at her beauty, Ryan silently thanked whatever fates had thrown him and Krysty together. The rare moments such as these, when they were truly alone and away from the eternal vigilance of traveling into new and dangerous territory, were a taste of true freedom and independence.
They made slow love, Ryan standing, Krysty in his arms and her legs wrapped around the small of his back, the dull pink tile of the shower stall serving as a backdrop to their impassioned coupling.
She came, once quickly and the second time much slower, willing herself to allow the pleasure and the pressure to build. The first orgasm had been sharp and fast, brought about by her body’s demands, but the second was for her, and she selfishly held back until the sensual demand for release couldn’t be denied. Ryan, knowing her physical arousal responses and patterns as well as his own, quickened the pace, timing his own explosive passion to match hers.
He closed his eyes, burying his face in her shoulder, beneath her heavy, wet hair, savoring the moment.
They held each other in the gentle spray of the shower, and for some reason he couldn’t quite yet fathom, Ryan clung to her tight, like a drowning man to a life preserver. Again the sensation of being trapped underwater flooded across his mind, but this time he went down willingly. With Krysty at his side, he would gladly fall all the way to the bottom and beyond.
Chapter Eight
Long days had passed since Ryan and the others left the walls and attractions of Greenglades ville. Wild Bill had pointed them in the direction of what he said were the broken remains of Highway 10 from the edge of the theme park’s parking lot. Surprisingly enough, numerous stripped, burned and corroded cars still dotted the asphalt lot, each one parked in its lonely slot, waiting vainly for its owner to return.
“Greenglades was located right off the highway for easy access. At least, that’s what the old park brochures say. A lot of the structure was damaged in the last quake, but it’s still passable. Go up this ramp here,” Bill said, pointing to a broken but climbable concrete-and-steel overpass that could be seen towering above the tree line edging the park area. “And then turn left. Stay on the old road, and it’ll carry you clean across the state to Jacksonville. It’s pretty much a straight line to the East Coast. There should be some small villes set up along the way—nothing much, but enough to trade with and get the latest info on any marauders or other road hazards you might be walking toward.”