Hard Asset by Pamela Clare

Author:Pamela Clare [Clare, Pamela]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-73352-513-8
Publisher: Pamela Clare

13

Connor woke early the next morning, Shanti in his arms. For a moment, he watched her sleep, a strange tenderness filling his chest. He could still smell her on his skin, still taste her on his tongue, still hear the cry she’d made when she’d come.

He ought to be angry with himself. He’d had unprotected sex with a client, who was depending on him for her survival. He’d broken all the rules, done things he’d never imagined he’d do. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

Since Mandy, sex had been little more than a transaction. Buy a pretty woman a few drinks, go back to her place, trade orgasms, toss the condom in the trash, drive home, take a shower. No drama. No strings. No risk.

But last night had been different. Was it because he’d gotten to know her a little before getting naked with her? Was it because he respected her? Was it because he hadn’t worn a condom?

Maybe there was something about her—her sense of justice, her mind, the way she made him feel bigger than life when she looked at him, trust in those beautiful eyes.

Hell, he didn’t know.

He’d come in from the rain to find her naked, and nothing in the world could have dragged him away from her. She’d been responsive, soft, passionate. Even as he told himself he shouldn’t risk having sex with her again, he knew he would.

He hated to wake her. She looked so at peace in her sleep, dark lashes on her cheeks, lips slightly parted, face relaxed. The world she would wake to wasn’t peaceful at all, but the sun would be up soon.

He rolled onto his side, kissed her. “Wake up, princess.”

She moaned, snuggled against him—then sat bolt upright. “Are they here?”

“No, it’s okay. But it’s time to get up and get moving.”

They were already dressed apart from footwear, so he went straight to breakfast, taking out what remained of last night’s MRE and mixing up some cold cocoa to go with their chocolate chip toaster pastry and Skittles.

She braided her hair and put on her socks and boots. “Everything is still wet.”

“That’s monsoon season in the jungle.”

She sat beside him, sipped her cold cocoa, and ate her half of the pastry and Skittles. “This would have been my dream breakfast—back when I was in kindergarten.”

Connor tried to imagine a little version of Shanti and found himself smiling. “I wanted chocolate chip pancakes.”

“Chocolate chip pancakes?”

“That’s what my mom made us for birthdays and on holidays—Christmas, Easter morning, the Fourth of July.”

“My dad always made us waffles for Christmas morning. He thinks they’re cool—all those little syrup pockets.”

This surprised Connor. “He celebrates Christmas?”

“My father is a secular Hindu. He and my mother taught me to respect all religions as expressions of culture and the human struggle to find meaning in life. We went to Hindu festivals, ate a mix of Bengali and American food, celebrated Christmas and Halloween and Easter.”

“For us, it was church every Sunday. It never made sense to me, and I’ve seen too much shit since then to change my mind.

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