The McClane Apocalypse Book Three (25 page)

"Come with me," John whispers, takes her
hand in his and pulls her across the aisle to where they will be
more visible. "Reagan, I'm going to do this so that they know you
aren't by yourself here on the farm. They need to think you're with
someone and not running around here all alone and unprotected. I'm
going to attach you to the one person they don't want to mess
with—me. Just trust me on this, ok?" John asks her and knows she
has no idea what he's talking about because she frowns up at him.
And she also has a look of complete and utter distrust on her
lovely face.

"What are you talking about? I don't…" she
asks more loudly than she should.

That's fine with John. He purposely wants to
draw their attention and to do so even more, he slams a stall door,
interrupting Reagan and making her jump. He's sure they must be
peeking to see what the noise was, so he wastes no time. John
slides his hands into the hair on either side of her face and pulls
her up against him. She lets out a high-pitched, surprised squeal
as John presses himself against her.

"Trust me, honey," he murmurs before his
head lowers. Reagan shakes hers vehemently.

The wall behind her holds her immobile, and
John pushes one hand to the back of her head so she doesn't bang it
against the unforgiving steel grates of the stall door. Her eyes
widen as his mouth descends toward hers and she realizes what he's
about to do. She tries to shake her head again, but he holds fast
to her and even clutches some of her hair in his fist. As soon as
his lips touch ever so lightly against hers, John knows he's lost.
She sucks in a deep breath and holds it as his mouth moves against
hers. There is no fatigue this time brought on by twelve hours of
horseback riding through the mountains and four days of high stress
situations while in the city.

Hoping she'll follow suit, John closes his
eyes. Surprisingly, her frizzy curls are silky soft and intertwined
in his fingers. He really has no choice in the matter because he's
having an out of body experience like none other. Her lips are soft
and full, and she's totally stiff as a board beneath him probably
from fear or shock or both. She's still trying to shake her head as
he holds her more firmly to continue their kiss. His other hand
leaves her face and slides around the narrow indent of her waist to
her back where he pulls her tightly against the front of him.
Reagan's hands descend onto his bare chest, either for support or
because she wants to or because she's hoping to push him away, but
he doesn't know or care. She isn't clawing at him, so it gives him
all the encouragement he never needed. He can literally feel her
soften, relax. His mouth molds so perfectly against hers, and he's
finally able to savor that fuller top lip that makes him crazy with
lust just looking at.

He's waited so long to kiss her, to hold
her, and he'd wanted their next kiss to be so perfect, so planned
and private. But with him and Reagan, there was never a right time
for anything. Their first time was technically in her closet, but
it had only lasted a mere three seconds. The first time he had
actually wanted to kiss her was when she came down the drive ready
to shoot him and then pretty much every day since he's wanted to,
as well. Heck, he had even considered it in the Home Depot after
he'd just killed three men. There is never going to be a right,
perfect time for them. With the state of the world now, stolen
moments are all anyone can expect out of this life.

John presses the kiss deeper, forcing her
mouth to open against his own and when it does he plunges his
tongue inside. Her mouth is warm and sweet like the candy she's
always eating. He's become a ravenous fool. Her response is a
whimper, but she's not pushing him away. She's finally trying to
kiss him back with all the experience she doesn't have. Her fingers
flex and relax and flex and curl again against his chest and in his
chest hair, more importantly. She probably doesn't know it, but her
unsure touch against his bare skin is about to take this to a whole
new level that she is likely not prepared for. His breathing is
ragged and hers is becoming so, as well. Her fingers slide up over
his chest and shoulders and sink into the hair at the base of his
neck as his tongue plunges again. Reagan strains against him,
forcing her breasts to push against his chest as she lets out a
soft sound into his mouth. His hands are moving and traveling at a
pace he can't control. They tangle in her messy curls, slide down
to pull her hips against his, tighten around her small waist, and
with every touch she either breathes harder or moans. It's more
than he can bear. Everything about her is more than he can bear.
Even her inexperienced, guileless kisses and the rough way she is
pulling at his hair makes him mad with lust. It's like he's
awakened a sleeping lioness as she arches against him.

Hooting and laughing at the end of the barn
brings John back to reality, reminding him of the reason for doing
this in the first place.

When he pulls back, John puts his forehead
to the side of her cheek to conceal her from the men he knows are
watching them. One deadly cold look and they take off, their cat
calls ceasing on their retreat. The men were Buzz and Rick, who
were the only ones in the visitors' group that John considers
non-threatening. It doesn't matter. He's done what he set out to
accomplish, but it has turned into so much more than he
anticipated.

It takes a few moments for their breathing
to calm down to slightly slower puffs, and she refuses to look at
him when he raises his head. She's staring at his chest, which he'd
forgotten is still bare and sweaty from their run.

"What… what was that?" she asks.

Her own chest continues to rise and fall at
an elevated pace. Her hands have moved back to his shoulders as if
she's afraid she'll fall.

"That was… I don't know," he says raggedly
and honestly. Her eyebrows lift in question as she finally meets
his hot gaze.

"Why did you do that?" she asks.

This time there is a touch of resentment and
more than a trace of angry accusation in her voice. Her green eyes
are aflame, and her pupils are dilated.

"I wanted those guys out there to think
you're with me. That's why, but it's not the only reason," he owns
up and presses his forehead to hers. John holds the side of her
small face with one hand and allows his thumb to stroke her soft
cheek. It's thrilling to be able to touch her the way he's wanted
to for so long and not have her flinch.

"Why else?"

Of course she wants the full Q and A session
after their kiss. She's not going to be able to blame this one on
fatigue from riding a horse all day on a return trip from the city.
However, she will probably do a full analysis report on it later in
one of her notebooks.

"I've wanted to do that since I first met
you," he tells her and wants so desperately to continue where they
left off.

"I was pointing a gun at you and gonna shoot
you the first time we met, so I don't think you're telling the
truth," she says bluntly.

John chuckles at her candid response.
Sliding his thumb roughly over her top lip, he grins down at
her.

"Doesn't matter. I still wanted to. I want
to again. If you would've shot me and then kissed me before I
croaked, then I would've died a happy man," he says lightly and
kisses the tip of her nose.

"You're so weird," she says harshly and her
kiss-swollen lips pucker into a funny expression.

"Maybe," he admits as his thumb moves on
from her cheek to her jaw and then the long line of her throat and
is joined by his index finger. He fully plans to take the same path
with his tongue in a moment. He allows them to travel to the base
of her throat and onto her upper chest which is exposed because of
her damn tank top which he told her not to wear. Her breathing
accelerates again. "I may be weird, but it doesn't change the fact
that I like kissing you and… I think you liked it, too." His voice
sounds husky with passion, and he hopes that it doesn't frighten
her. It's frightening to him because he's not sure he's going to be
able to stop this.

John flips his hand over so that the backs
of his knuckles touch her as he skims over the outside of her
breast down to her narrow waist. Once there, he comes around front
and hooks his index finger into the waistband of her jeans and
pulls her an inch closer, closer to the erection he still has. His
other hand slides under her leg, and he hitches it up against his
hip. He doesn't remove his hot palm from the underside of her
thigh, however. She shivers delightfully, and John traces with his
middle finger the tiny goose bumps that have erupted on her
forearm.

He is about to carry her upstairs to the hay
storage when they are interrupted. Reagan jumps away from him like
she just got tasered.

"John?" Kelly calls from the door.

Reagan sprints away from him as Kelly stands
rooted there in shock, his mouth agape. John's not sure how much of
their interaction that Kelly has witnessed, but he also knows that
Kelly won't say anything to anyone. He watches as she runs from the
barn to the med shed and doesn't look back. Kelly looks to Reagan
and then at John and back at Reagan again. Then without pausing, he
goes right into his speech.

"We were looking for some help. We told them
they should go on a scouting run to look for new living
arrangements. But those dumbasses can't get the second RV started,
and the uncle is whining about not being able to leave if it
doesn't. Thought we'd better help or we'll never get rid of them.
Derek said…,"

John stopped listening at 'dumbasses.'

He's still thinking about the way Reagan
felt in his arms and her soft compliance when he'd kissed her. She
hadn't cried or tried to get away from him. It makes him wonder if
he couldn't have gotten away with kissing her the thousand other
times that he'd wanted to. It also makes him wonder if she's also
been attracted even just the slightest bit to him all this time, as
well. And, no, she doesn't have huge, fake boobs and isn't tall
like a supermodel with the perfectly straight hair and matching
teeth. But she is his new standard of beautiful and alluring and
has been since he came to live on this farm. There was always
something about Reagan that he couldn't quite put his finger on
that had attracted him to her. Perhaps it was her brain, her looks
or maybe her feisty temper or a combination of everything about
her. She is a mesmerizing creature, and he can't believe that
nobody had snatched her up before he came along. However, he's glad
for it because he intends to make Reagan his and killing off a
current boyfriend would've been hard to explain to her family. If
he'd been determined before, he is absolutely steadfast in his
resolve after that kiss.

She'd smelled like a strange mix of honey
and cookies, sugar cookies. Maybe what he was picking up on was a
vanilla scent, but it was heavenly, she was heavenly. Her small
body fit so perfectly against his, and he likes that he can pick
her up easily without effort when he needs to. It could come in
handy if he ever tosses her over his shoulder to take her off
somewhere to be seduced.

Kelly simply keeps giving him updates on the
happenings on the farm that John's missed during his time with
Reagan on their run. His friend is chomping at the bit to get rid
of the visitors. They all are.

He walks alongside Kelly toward the shed and
they discuss the broken, piece of crap RV that they are obviously
now going to have to work on. They also discuss an exit plan for
their unwanted guests and the list of things that need to get done
to make it happen. But John's mind wanders many times again to
Reagan. If his friend notices his lack of attention, he doesn't cop
to it.

Her slender yet curvy hips had literally
been beckoning his hands to pull her closer. Her soft lips had
molded so nicely against his. These nefarious thoughts aren't
getting him anywhere, but they sure are entertaining. Reagan
McClane had better watch out because he can't wait to get her alone
again.

"This is where we store the flour. It's nice
and cool and dry," Hannah patiently explains to Sam, who has come
to work inside today on whatever they need her for. "Helps to keep
out the bugs that would ruin it if they were to get into it."

"Ok," Sam says quietly.

Hannah instructed both of the teens
yesterday about the need to be more verbal around her. Head shakes
and nods don't exactly translate to the blind. It was something
that Cory, Em and her love, Kelly, had had to learn, as well.

"Apples are in full harvest, so let's make a
few apple pies," Hannah suggests. They are standing in the small
pantry off of the kitchen, and this time Sam doesn't answer. "Can
you help me with that, Sam?"

"Su…sure, Miss Hannah," Sam finally says
softly.

"Or if you don't like apple, we could do
peach. We have quite a few jars in the cellar of canned peaches, as
well," Hannah offers.

"No, ma'am. Apple is just fine," Samantha
answers. "I like apple pie. It's my favorite actually."

"Oh, ok. I just thought… well, you
seemed…"

"I'm sorry. It's just that my mom used to
make apple pie every fall," Sam confides. "It was my dad's
favorite, too."

"Oh, Sam, I'm so sorry," Hannah expresses as
she reaches for the girl's hand and finds it.

"It's ok," she whispers.

It's not at all ok, Hannah knows. This young
girl has lost her family, and nobody knows why or how it happened
other than that it probably occurred during the systematic crash of
their country.

"If you ever want to talk about it, I'm
here, Sam," she offers and gives the girl's bony hand a gentle
squeeze. Sam sniffs hard.