Eric dressed in his black riot gear shouldn't make me feel things, but it does.
It's not the time nor place, but I'm completely distracted by him wearing thick body armour, a helmet, with a gun strapped to him. As I stand in the entranceway, waiting for him to put my own armour on, I can't stop my eyes from roaming his powerful frame with all the muscles on top of muscles.
My breath hitches as he steps into me, and I'm certain he hears it. I can feel the warmth of his body radiating against me, enjoying his face close to mine as he pulls a bulletproof vest over my head and clips the sides. He smells good, and I have a sudden urge to run the tip of my tongue up the side of his neck that's inches from my mouth.
If we weren't surrounded by his men, all standing in silence, I'd probably do it.
My inner dirty thoughts are interrupted by my mum marching towards us.
"I don't understand. Are you sure they have the right patient?" Mum's gaze is narrowed, looking between the screen of her tablet and the two of us. "Where is Ainsley?"
"I need to go in to confirm, but, I'm sure. And we can't get a hold of her," Eric replies, tightening a strap at my back that makes it hard to breathe as the bulletproof vest squeezes my frame. "If you see her, tell the little shit to contact me." He circles me like a lion to its prey, making sure everything is in place, then he turns to my mum. "Is Richie awake?"
"I will let him sleep, he's had quite a rough time the past few days. I'll have him come to you when he wakes."
Eric nods, messing with the fasteners on the helmet to adjust to the size of my head, before fixing it into place. He lifts the visor, lowering to speak to me with eye contact.
"Okay?" he asks as my mum vanishes, leaving us in peace. I give him a half-smile in reply. "There are four of my men coming with us. Two will walk ahead and two close behind. We'll go the long way around the outskirts to get there." He studies my face, noticing that I'm both nervous and confused with everything. "You'll be safe with me. There is close to no chance of coming into contact with anyone on the way, especially at this time. I'm not hiding you from the rest of the dome. That's not fair on you. So, are you ready?"
"Yeah," I answer quietly, a layer of sweat coating my skin from the heat of the outfit and anxiousness. "Thank you, for not keeping me locked up."
Eric holds back a smirk, flipping down my visor and turning to speak to his men.
It takes us nearly forty-five minutes to get there. Eric had tried to talk me through what he saw on the file on route, but I was more focused on our surroundings and trying not to pass out from heat exhaustion.
He tells me to keep my helmet on as we follow an older nurse onto the third floor, down the hallway of a quiet section in the medical building. She tilts her head in the direction of the last door on the left. "He should be awake."
Taking a deep breath, wondering if I'm going to see who I think, I push it open, Eric close behind me. The place is nearly blinding from the multiple lights, white decor, and shiny marble flooring. The smell of antiseptic cleaners fills my nostrils like it had when I was in the maintenance room earlier, and it causes my stomach to turn at the thought of what Robbie had said. But the beeping sounds coming from machines echo off the walls, forcing my attention on what the hell is happening.
Robbie can wait. His threats can wait.
Ainsley should be here with us. I quickly look down at my band, about to send her yet another message when I hear a soft, familiar voice. My head snaps up, arms falling to my sides as we make our way into the room.
The nurse pulls the white curtain, and she's there. I stop walking, a gasp leaving my mouth at the sight before me. The air in my lungs is screaming at me to be released, a fire ripping through my chest. My lips part as I watch Ainsley lying on her side, one leg hiked up, head resting on... on...
Gareth's chest.
His fingers are buried in her hair, but his thumb makes slow strokes as she lets out a few broken sobs. Gareth's eyes are closed, looking fragile with sunken cheeks.
Gareth survived.
And all I can do is stare, same as Eric. We stand side by side, eyes on the pair in front of us.
His life had been in limbo the past few weeks, on the brink of death from the gunshot to the left side of his head. A bullet that was meant for me. The doctors were certain that his chances of survival, in our current circumstances, were slim to none.
We were told he would most likely not wake from the surgery to remove the bullet, that his body was slowly giving up on him.
But he survived.
And I want nothing more than to jump at him and wrap my arms around his neck, to tell him I'm relieved and happy to see him. Although, by the looks of it, Ainsley probably won't let go of him for a long time.
As I step closer, unable to speak, I see there's a white bandage around his head, wires and drips going from multiple machines to his body. My eyes find the screen beside his bed with his vitals showing beeps in a steady rhythm. Everything on it seems fine, from what my mum had explained to me when I was in the same position.
"I guess we found her," Eric says quietly behind me. All I can do is hum in agreement.
This is where Ains has been, spending most of her time with him while he lay basically motionless. Gareth had been in and out of sleep, completely out of it with all the medication he's been on to try to help his body heal enough that he could go under anaesthesia.
The doctors didn't think he would be strong enough for the surgery, with Gareth's chances of survival as low as five percent. But without it, he would have died anyway. Someone had given the go-ahead days ago, but Ains and I have no idea who.
"Get the doc,' Eric says to the nurse in a rather snappy tone, eyes not leaving Gareth. "Now."
"No need to be rude," I mutter under my breath.
"I wasn't."
The poor woman rushes away. Ains lifts her head, a watery gaze landing on mine. With a smile, she settles against his chest, facing us. She raises her hand, stroking his cheek and says, "Guess what, Gareth? Danielle and your best friend Eric are here."
I grin widely, feeling tears of joy building. "Hey."
Eric is silent.
Gareth simply grunts, unable to move other than to lift a shaking hand in a weak waving motion, laying it on Ainsley's head once more.
Eric is still quiet, staring, his hands buried in his pockets with the strap of his helmet hanging from his wrist. I know deep down he's happy, relieved that we haven't lost Gareth, especially with how broken he had been the night he was shot. If only he could show some sort of emotion instead of standing like a statue.
"How is he?" I ask.
Ainsley shrugs. "He's not spoken much, sleeping a lot, but he's better than he was yesterday." She sits up, moving her hair out of her face. "There's a doctor coming later on to test his motor functions and other stuff."
"Has the doctor said anything else?" Eric eventually speaks. "Anything about the surgery or complications?"
"No. They wouldn't tell me much. The nurse said I was lucky I'm allowed to be here out of visiting hours. I was told to leave, but Gareth was actually trying to talk to me, so I refused." She wipes her eyes, and I can tell she's been crying for a while. "All I know is that the surgery was successful."
I go to walk forward, to give my friend a hug, but a voice stops me.
"He's a lucky man," someone says from behind, and we both turn to see an older guy with glasses, a clipboard in his armpit. He must be the doctor. "You're Mr Osprey, I presume?"
"I am."
He nods and stretches out his hand, which Eric shakes, probably too hard by the looks of the near wince from the man. "Since you are the next of kin, I'll speak with you in my office about the patient's current state and his recovery. If you will follow me, please."
The doctor turns on his heels, and I frown at Eric. "Next of kin?"
Eric nudges me forward, ignoring my question. "Come on."
"You want me to go too?" I ask, confused. "Me?"
He rolls his eyes. "Obviously."
Eric tilts his head in the direction of the doctor walking away, indicating for me to follow him. I hesitate, wondering if this is something I should really be present for. But I go with them, sitting down opposite the man at his desk, Eric lounging in the chair next to me with a finger to his temple, legs parted wide.
One of his knees is bouncing up and down, and I want to place my hand on it. But as usual, when it comes to us and having our thing a secret, I can't.
I fight a grimace. Not only is the desk a mess, but the room also smells like sour milk, and is that a KitKat wrapper on the floor? I haven't seen one of those biscuits since the real world.
My mum would already be on her hands and knees, scrubbing at everything until sweat builds at her brows if she were here.
"Okay." The doctor's eyes are on the screen, glasses tipped down his nose. "For data protection and patient confidentiality, can you confirm the patient's full name, date of birth, place of birth, and number?"
I'm speechless. Gareth is twenty-one, that much I know. But place of birth? No, none of us would know that. Unless Ainsley does? And his unique number? I have no idea, does Eric?
But my bodyguard side-eyes me, then folds his arms in front of him, his knee stopping its tremble. "His full name is Gareth Jonathan Low. Date of birth is the second of January, two thousand." Eric clears his throat. "He was born in Edinburgh. Dalry, to be exact. ID number is zero, seven, five."
I furrow my brows. How does he know that off by heart?
Wait. Eric was born in Edinburgh. Did he know Gareth before all of us ended up here? He would have said, right? Plus, I remember the day he met him. He hated Gareth's guts for even looking in my direction.
And when Gareth had called me Dan and wanted to train me himself, I'm certain Eric planned his death.
What am I missing here?
"Perfect," the doctor responds, pushing his frames up the bridge of his nose with his middle finger. "I'm aware that there has been a lot of back and forth regarding his injuries—"
"That's an understatement," Eric snaps, cutting him off. "We planned a funeral for him." He leans forward, gripping the edge of the desk. "Five hours. When he was brought in, you gave him five hours to live before he was apparently going to succumb to his injuries. Do you know how much that broke people? Do you know what that did to his girlfriend?"
I shiver at the thought, remembering how much Ainsley had been falling apart from the news. Adding in the fact that she is pregnant, she was completely broken and I had no idea how to fix her.
"Every gunshot wound to the head is unique, Mr Osprey. I hope you can accept the apologies from all the staff here. There was no exit wound. And luckily, when the bullet entered Mr Low's cranium, it did not pass from the left to the right hemisphere. It didn't bounce around and cause a large bullet track, or cause any damage to the brain stem or the thalamus."
He sighs, crossing his legs at the knees. I swallow the lump in my throat, waiting for him to continue when Eric simply hums.
"Yes, he has quite the road to recovery ahead of him where he may need to relearn some things. I can only apologise for the misjudgement. We are limited to our resources and equipment here. Without being able to put Mr Low under an MRI, we had no idea how severe his injuries were when you brought him in."
I feel a shiver run up my spine, making my body rattle.
"What are his chances of survival now?" Eric asks.
The man gives him a half-smile. "He will have impaired functions when it comes to cognition, memory, vision, and most certainly speech. But with the right care, we predict he will have a full recovery. As I said, there is a long road ahead for him, but he will recover."
"And the bullet you extracted, where is it? I need it for evidence."
"I'll have it sent to your office," the doctor replies. "There wasn't much swelling, so it was easily extracted and it's fully intact."
Eric nods, leaning his elbow on the armrest, and I can see emotions behind his eyes. He's keeping it together, kind of. "He's going to be a father." The words come out so soft and quiet, and it makes my heart break into a million pieces.
The doctor grins. "Then he will need all of his energy."
I zone out while they discuss his care and legal stuff, but a part of me wants to smile, to run out of this room, jump into Ainsley's arms, and scream with her until our voices break and we cry happy tears.
We all thought he was going to die for weeks. Every time we went to sleep, we'd wake the next morning expecting to get the bad news.
I lean forward, fidgeting my fingers on my top. "What happens now?"
"Once he's fit enough, he can go. Neurological recovery can take between months to years. Since we don't know the real extent of the gunshot wound, we cannot make an estimated time of recovery." He looks at Eric. "I presume he will be going to your home?"
"Fuck no." I roll my eyes at his blunt retort. Deep down, he cares about Gareth. I mean, he is listed as his next of kin, so that must mean something, right? "Gary will be staying at the McClure manor, so you'll have to send your team there for his therapy and whatever else he needs."
The doctor frowns for a second, probably wondering why he addressed him as Gary and not his real name. Honestly, I have no idea why he does either. Maybe it's his way to not have a personal connection with someone else? If that's the case, then he better stop calling me Dan.
By the time they finish discussing the surgery and complications he had faced, we make our way back into the ward.
"I'll wait out here," he says, standing at the room door, two guards on either side. "I need to make a call, anyway."
"You don't want to see him?"
Eric gives me a look. "No. I have no reason to."
He definitely does. But I can only assume that he would prefer it if Ains and I weren't there.
Closing the door quietly, I sit down on the chair next to the bed. "Hey," I say when Ainsley looks up at me. "He's going to be discharged in two days."
"Good." She sits up, wiping the sleep from her eyes. Gareth is out cold again, but up close, I can already see there is more colour to his skin instead of the pale corpse he'd been for weeks. Ainsley snorts, catching my attention. "Shit, I blocked the fucking toilet and I'm too scared to tell the nurse."
My face contorts at my best friend. "Lovely, Ainsley."
Her smile is infectious.
"I need to ask you a favour," she starts, stroking Gareth's cheek with the back of her hand. "I'm supposed to be picking up Orla and keeping her for the night at the manor. Could you get her, and I'll come by Eric's later?"
Eric and I have no plans, and I'd love nothing more than to spend time with Orla. I haven't properly seen her in a while, and I know Eric loves having her around. Skye and Diesel will be excited, too.
"Of course. I need to go back to the manor for my bags and the dogs, anyway. We can swing by yours on the way."
"Awesome. Thank you. I just don't want to leave him."
She lies back down on Gareth, tracing his jawline, down the bridge of his nose, closing her eyes with a yawn.
As soon as she falls asleep, I press a kiss to both of their cheeks, and go tell Eric that we are babysitting for the rest of the day.
_________
"Eric, can I ask you a question?" Orla's voice is gentle and sweet, and any other person would smile and say sure. But, of course, Eric is not any other person.
"No."
I slap his arm as he chops up the processed food, preparing dinner for the three of us. "Don't be mean."
She's doing art with pens she'd found in his room. Eric had drawn the outline of a dog, a car, and a hot air balloon for her to colour in, and she's been kept busy the past hour while we sorted out dinner.
Before we picked her up, we went to get the dogs and our bags from the manor. Dad and Eric had a talk in his office regarding Gareth's care, and something about evidence. Mum and Belinda sat at the kitchen counter with me, cups of tea to hand, while they gushed about how it will be having a baby under the roof.
Eric chuckles, tossing cubes of meat into a bowl. "What is it?" he asks Orla.
"Can we watch The Lion King?"
With a huff, Eric agrees, plating up our food and tells us to go sit down. After he feeds the dogs, he joins us at the dining table, and silence falls as we eat.
This is nice. I always enjoy having Orla over, and even though he acts like he's this big mean machine, he loves it when she's here too. Another side of him comes out, a playful one that makes my heart melt.
Orla dotes on him too. Whenever she is here or around us, Eric has her full attention. I remember one of the days at the school, he had sat with her the entire time, painting and reading. She'd fallen asleep on his shoulder while he read to her, and I know that alone meant a lot to him.
I believe she reminds him of Vanessa. She was his sister, younger, I'm guessing, going by the picture that Orla had drawn. He must have been that way with her too, and maybe that's why he tolerates Orla's cuddling and asking ridiculous questions that he fights to get a good answer for.
By the time we finish eating, Orla sits on the couch while Eric and I clean up. I dodge him trying to grope me, then slap his hand away when he tries to shove his fingers in my mouth mid-yawn. Without having young eyes on us, Eric leans against the kitchen counter, pulls me against him, and kisses the tip of my nose.
"Stop being cute."
He laughs, squeezing my behind with both hands. "You're in a good mood."
"So are you," I counter, lacing my fingers into his hair at the back of his head. "Anything to do with your best friend Gareth?"
Narrowing his eyes, he glares. "No. The fact that Gary lives makes no difference to my life."
"Liar. You're happy." I pull away from him, picking up some packets of biscuits. "Are you going to tell me why you're his next of kin?"
"He didn't have anyone else," Eric replies, truthfully. "I... he just... he's on his own in here, so I had to put myself down when it came to filling in his paperwork. That's all."
"Do you memorise all your men's details?" I ask, using the controls to make the windows go black. Eric doesn't reply, so I turn to him. "You knew Gareth's off by heart."
"Stop asking me questions and go watch the movie before Orla loses her shit."
In all fairness, I'm keeping a massive secret from him right now. Robbie's threat is still fresh in my head, and I'm in two minds whether to tell Eric or not.
Ainsley would probably tell me to explain everything to him, to let Eric deal with these idiots, but at what cost?
If I do fess up, it could get ugly where Eric hunts them all down. And there's also the part where Robbie told me not to tell him, another threat. If I don't, and I continue seeing him, what will happen? These people, the ones that are targeting us, what will they do if I keep doing this with Eric?
I don't want to end this. I couldn't ever push those words out of my mouth, because they'd be a lie.
"Hey..." Eric pulls me out of my head, taking my cheeks in his palms. He wipes away tears I had no idea were falling down my face. "What's wrong?"
God. I want to tell him so much. But I shake my head, leaning my face into his hand. "I'm okay."
"You're not."
His thumb strokes my skin. I kiss his palm and step back. "I'm fine. Come on, I can hear Timon and Pumbaa singing."
Eric groans, picks up a bowl of snacks and follows me in.
Orla is cuddled up on the couch with a large blanket Eric had given her. She's so small in comparison, and it makes me smile. She lifts it, giving enough room for all three of us to chill out and watch The Lion King.
She is to my right, Eric to my left. His thigh is pressed up against mine, and after around twenty minutes of annoyingly nudging me, he takes my hand in his own and settles our interlocked fingers on his lap.
It makes me giddy.
Especially when his thumb glides across my skin.
Orla can't see that we are holding hands, she'd never keep it a secret. Her head is against my arm, twirling my curls around a finger, completely zoned into the movie.
As much as I love having Orla here and would never refuse her company, I'm excited for time together. Alone. With Eric. No one around. Just the two of us.
No limits to our affection for each other.
I mean, Eric isn't exactly romantic, but I know for a fact that he won't keep his hands off of me.
I doubt I'll be able to shower in peace. And will we actually sleep in his bed together? Before, he was on the couch, and all the times we were in his bed at the manor, it was for sex. And not even slow and cute sex, I'm usually tossed around and fucked into submission.
And now we are babysitting, watching The Lion King with Orla, and holding freaking hands under a blanket like we are teenagers.
I never thought I'd be in this position the first time I came to stay here. We could barely stand each other, and he did everything he could to piss me off. I remember living next door and pretending that I wasn't sneaking looks while my arsehole boyfriend was around. Or the times I pleasured myself thinking about my rude bodyguard.
In truth, we never really hated each other. No, we wanted what we couldn't have and made a mess in the process.
Now we have found each other.
And I must admit, I'm in love with Eric Osprey.
My lips curl at the corner, and I squeeze Eric's hand. "This is nice," I whisper to him, so only he can hear. "Is this what it'll be like all the time?"
Eric switches his hands, so he can put his right arm at the back of the couch, twirling my hair like Orla is. "Minus the kid and clothes," he whispers in my ear. "Although, I kind of prefer her company to yours. She actually enjoys my cooking."
"Putting crisps into a bowl with a dip is not cooking."
Orla lifts her head from my arm to look at us, and he drops his hand from my hair. "When does Simba's daddy die? I don't want to see that part."
My heart twists in my chest, remembering that she lost her entire family, and her mum, Sarah, begged me to keep her safe.
It must be so hard for her. She has memories of her brother, but because she was so young when he was alive, they aren't as clear to her now. Jack was a teenager, and she loved him dearly.
Eric had been able to pull information from a database that kept some files on our lives before. Sarah Kay was a scientist, and she fled America with Jack, who was about Orla's age at the time, and came to Scotland. That's where Orla's parents met, but her mum's ex-boyfriend followed them here and did some horrific things to them.
They were successful in life, and loved their children more than anything.
Now, their daughter is on the couch with Eric and I, waiting on Ainsley to pick her up and take her to the manor.
And I want to do everything I can to protect her, to make sure she never feels unwanted.
When it gets to Mufasa's death, Eric takes Orla to get more crisps and a drink of water.
This movie is fucking brutal, right? Simba is so young, loses everything, and still becomes this strong Lion as he gets older, thanks to Timon and Pumbaa.
I suppose, in a way, Orla is Simba.
Wait. Are Eric and I Timon and Pumbaa in Orla's story?
Jesus.
"I'm going to take a shower," I tell them as they come back.
Eric looks up at me as he sits, eyes following my form as I leave the room. I know he wants to come with me, but he's not stupid enough or irresponsible enough to do that.
His shower is a replica of my own, and as soon as the door shuts, beeping that it's locked, I wait for the walls to close in, my heart rate to spike, my lungs to feel like I'm choking on the water again, but nothing happens.
Lathering the coconut-scented soap over my body, then massaging shampoo and conditioner into my hair while listening to Led Zeppelin, I close my eyes. If I could have this day, every single day, I'll be happy.
Except for the part where Robbie dragged me into the maintenance room and told me what he did, the threats and why I need to end things with my bodyguard. Or the part where Eric says that resources are depleted more than expected.
And the part about there may be outsiders? Other survivors? That makes me feel physically sick, because the thought of having hope, having a chance at life, terrifies me in case it doesn't come true.
It's not as if I'm accepting that we are going to die, but having hope means that when that hope dies, it makes it ten times harder to welcome our painful fate. Honestly, I'd rather find the Neurock, fall into some reality with Eric, Orla, the dogs, and my parents, sitting at a beach and letting the radioactive waves fry my brain than choking on no air.
Imagine stopping the timer on our life? Imagine not waiting until the oxygen runs out to take our last breaths? A life outside of this glass house where we can all have a future?
Imagine.
When I get out of the shower, Skye is asleep outside the bathroom. I wrap myself with my Slytherin housecoat, kneeling down to pat her.
She follows me into the bedroom, jumping up onto the bed while I search for my things. Eric had folded my clothes away into his dresser, which was sweet of him. Last time, most of my stuff stayed in my suitcase. Once I find my PJs, fluffy socks, and a bobble to tie my hair up, I make my way back downstairs.
A high pitch giggle has me halting in my steps, followed by a grin pulling at my lips at the sight before me.
Eric and Orla are sitting on the rug between the couch and the paused TV. She's on her front, tongue sticking out in concentration as she colours in the skull on his arm, a few of his other tattoos a bright pink. He hands her a red pen, pointing at the rose on his forearm as he leans on his side, perched on his elbow.
He looks up, our eyes meet, and I'm frozen. If I could explain the perfect man for me, I'd describe everything about him. I want you, forever and always. I'm desperate to tell him, shout it as loud as I can, but instead, I smile, walking into the kitchen to make a cup of tea.
I hear her laughing like crazy again, and I glance over to see him tickling her. He has a huge smile on his face, dimples deep, running around the couch, trying to get away from Orla attempting to tickle him back.
What is it about Eric being good with kids that makes my ovaries explode?
I lean on the counter, watching them as Orla continues colouring in his tattoos. Surely, he can see that they are Sharpies? If he has a meeting tomorrow, he will be doing it with a very bright, multicoloured arm.
"Do you miss Nessa?" she asks, and my mug stops halfway to my lips. I don't think he's aware that I'm here, listening, as he nods his head a few times.
"Every day."
"She must be so excited to see you again," she replies, and I lower my cup to the coaster. "Oh! We could colour in your arms together!"
Before I can hear what he says back, the buzzer at the entryway sounds. Eric gets to his feet, eyes locking with mine momentarily. "It's probably Ainsley," he says, opening the door. He sighs loudly. "Hello, creature."
Ains shoulders him out of the way. "Fuck you, Osprey."
I roll my eyes at the pair scowling at one another. They can never have a normal conversation, even though they are friends.
"I can't stay, as much as Eric would love to have my company," Ains mutters. "I'll come see you tomorrow?"
"Yeah," I reply. "I'm not doing anything, anyway."
"Well, that's if your boyfriend doesn't plan on dragging us to the sports centre again and kicking the shit out of you. I mean, Eric, is it really necessary to be so rough? Wait, no, don't answer that."
"Boyfriend?" Orla asks, confused, looking between Eric and I as he puts her Barbie bag on her back. "Eric is your boyfriend?"
Nice one, Ains.
"No. She's just being silly," I tell her. "I'll come and see you soon, okay? Maybe we can colour in the rest of Eric's tattoos?"
Ainsley spins on her heels to look at the artwork of yellows, pink, blues, and reds, and she snorts.
"Get out of my house," he snaps, growling at her. "Don't come back. Ever. You and Gary can live happily ever after with your sprog in the manor, far away from me."
"Oh, so angry," she retorts, turning to me and lowering her voice so Orla can't hear. "Sort your boyfriend out."
I sigh. "He isn't my boyfriend."
Ains narrows her eyes, a smirk playing on her lips at the banter between her and Eric. She's trying to get a rise from him, even though he's about to kick her out of the house. "Fuck buddies?"
"No," Eric spits almost instantly. "Leave."
"Then you're boyfriend and girlfriend, for Christ's sake."
We both shake our heads. But in all honesty, what are we?
Orla gives me a hug, then jumps into Eric's arms and cuddles him as hard as she can, whispering something to him that makes him look at Ainsley and laugh.
Once the door is closed behind them, I can feel the entire atmosphere shifting. Gone is the playful energy, replaced with the tension that has been lingering beneath.
For the first time in a while, we will be sleeping under the same roof, just the two of us, probably in the same bed, and it makes me exhilarated at the thought.
Sitting on the couch, watching the ending of the movie, I rest my head on Eric's lap while he runs his fingers from my wrist to my shoulder, twirling a curl then releasing it over my face, repeating the act until I bat his hand away.
"Ainsley keeps calling you my boyfriend. She rarely addresses you as Eric when she brings you up."
His body shakes beneath me with a chuckle. "She does the same with me."
I bite my lip, wondering if I should even say the next words. But they fly out of my mouth anyway. "If we were outside the dome, and...none of this was happening, do you think you would still be like this with me?"
Eric glances down at me. "You think I'm only this way with you because we are here?"
"You would never have gone near me on the outside."
A barking laugh leaves him. "You're kidding, right? If we were on the outside still, and you wanted me, I would quit my job and fuck my friendship off with Richie to be with you."
My heart sings at his words. Yeah, I knew he cared about me, but he's never been fully open with his feelings. Getting anything from Eric emotionally is like sucking blood from a stone.
I sit up, facing him with a frown. "But you love your job and my dad."
His brow arches, giving me a knowing look. "Yeah." He takes my face in his hands, stroking his thumbs under my eyes lightly. "I want this."
"We have this."
Eric pulls my face to his, capturing my lips and yanking me into his lap so I'm straddling him.
He takes me upstairs to the room, keeping the dogs in the living room. The door closes, windows tinting black, and slowly, while our tongues dance and our hands roam each other's bodies, Eric pulls the top over my head, kissing trails over my skin as he undresses me.
My own hands caress each muscle as he sucks on the skin of my neck and shoulder. His brown hair messes when I drag his top off. I run my fingers through it, bringing his mouth back to mine, desperate for his addictive taste.
The kiss is slow, and I can feel him pouring his all into each brush of his tongue, each roll of my nipple between his fingers that has me gasping into his mouth. My fingers thread into his hair tighter as he lowers us onto the mattress, settling himself between my legs.
Eric's hand hikes my leg up against his side, running his fingers from my ankle, up to my knee, all the way to my ribs, where he squeezes and kisses me harder, taking my breath away.
I moan as he rocks his hips into me, feeling his hardening cock against my core. I move to roll myself up the underside of his length, whimpering as he pulls away completely. Looking down at me, a panting mess beneath him, he doesn't come out with some filthy words or tell me how much he wants to fuck me.
No, Eric takes in all of me, my fiery hair sprawled over the pillow, my parted lips, swollen from his kiss, my naked chest rising and falling with the building desire for him. He sucks on his bottom lip. "You're fucking beautiful, Dan."
His fingers hook into the waistband of my pyjama shorts, and unhurriedly, keeping his ocean blue eyes on my green ones, he drags them down my legs, lowering his body as he does until he's kneeling on the floor.
And my eyes roll, a strangled moan dropping from his tongue connecting with my sex, running up my slit and sucking my most sensitive area into his mouth. My back arches off the mattress, fisting the duvet beneath my writhing body as Eric devours me.
He parts me with his thumbs, dipping his tongue through my entrance, and as soon as he sucks, fingers digging into my thighs, I blurt out, "Oh, God."
I grip a handful of his hair, pushing him into me more as my hips move, until my body is uncontrollably trembling from his tongue darting into me and around my clit, sucking and biting, making my mind-bending orgasm smack into me harder than ever. I see stars, feel every worry and every threat washing away, my heart racing, the temperature in the room spiking.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, standing and removing his boxers, so his cock springs free. He climbs on top of me, parts my legs further with his knee, settling between them.
This is new. We've never done this position before.
Eric kisses me, his forearms braced at the sides of my head, fingers in my hair. I roll my hips against him, feeling the tip of his cock against my entrance, then grinding on him so the underside rubs against my core.
It makes my eyes flutter, my breath hitching with his mouth on mine.
He takes my bottom lip between his teeth, groaning as I continue to move against him. Every time he comes close to sinking inside of me, I pull away, teasing my bodyguard.
But when he finally nudges into me, each inch stretching me gradually, he drops his head so our cheeks touch, grunting into my ear as he begins to push deeper, until he's buried to the hilt. My pleasure from the orgasm still lingers, and having all of him inside of me makes my nerves spark, my spine tingling as he pulls out, pushing in once more.
With each thrust, my fingers dig into his scalp. His body is crushing mine, but in the most blissful way. A sweat builds between us, the sound of our skin slapping echoes around the room, and I can see the windows are starting to steam up.
We moan in sync, breathing each other's air when he leans his forehead against mine, and he's not fucking me, he's not hammering his all until I can't breathe, or flipping me over and taking me from behind. He's going slow, easing in and out, carefully taking my face in his hands, and kissing me like it's the last time.
One of our bands beeps, and I've no idea whose, but we make no move to see to it as Eric's mouth covers mine, his movements becoming deeper, our whimpers and moans grow louder as another beep sounds.
My heart races as I feel my second high building, each one of my vertebrae twisting as the coiling sensation heats at my core, my thighs tingling. Eric buries his head into the crook of my neck, sucking on the skin there as his hands lace with mine, pinning them to the pillow.
Another beep, and Eric snaps. He presses something on his band. "Silence all communications for one hour." He looks down at me. "Sorry. No interruptions this time."
His lips layer mine, drawing me in as he kisses me with his all, moving his hips so his cock drags against my walls and drives me into a deep, sensational trip. My eyes roll, closing, and my entire body starts to tense.
Eric takes my jaw in his hand. "Look at me."
My cloudy gaze meets his, and my second orgasm tears through me as his name drops from my lips, and his mouth swallows my whimpers. His thrusts quicken, finding his own release as his cock throbs, muscles bunching under my fingers, both gasping for air.
Eric's strangled moan will forever be imprinted in my mind, deep and throaty as he unravels on top of me.
He collapses, chest to chest, trying to catch our breaths, sweat dripping from us both. "Jesus," he blurts out, kissing my shoulder then lifting his body to look down at me, slowly easing out of me. "You okay?" He leans on his elbow, moving a strand that's stuck to my face.
"Yeah," I breathe out, giving him a lazy smile as my euphoria surge still lingers in my body. "That was..." I have no idea what that was, but it was so much more than the regular fucking that we do. There were no slurs or good girls, no degrading and pummelling into me.
No that was...
More.
"Dan..." Eric runs his thumb across my lips, then settles his hand in my hair at the side of my head. His eyes search my face, my ecstasy starting to fade away, replaced with so much adoration for this man. He presses his lips to mine gently, then lifts to look at me. "Dan, I meant what I said earlier. I would give everything up for you, because I've fall—"
I scream with a jolt, a deafening pitch of the world erupts around us, cutting off whatever Eric was about to say. The room rattles, things dropping from the units and smashing on the floor. His instant reaction is to protect me, covering my body with his as the blow of something detonating a second time resounds around us, ricocheting off the walls like an earthquake.
"What the fuck!" he yells as the noise withers away, leaving the room destroyed, the mattress ripped away from the headboard, and the dogs howling from downstairs.
Eric checks me over with wide eyes, and my heart speeds up seeing his panicked state. He gets to his feet, tells his system to reconnect the communications, and both our bands begin to beep repeatedly.
"Fuck! The labs were blown up!" Eric grits his teeth in pure rage, trying to get through to someone on the comms as he opens to the door for the dogs to run in. "Mother fuckers took out most of the oxygen tanks."
I feel every drop of blood leaving my body, shivers running up my spine in fear and regret.
Is this my fault?
Alarms begin to roar around the dome, loud enough to make me wince. I look down, seeing a message that makes my entire world collapse more than it already has.
Unknown#000: You were warned.
__________
Thoughts?
Predictions?
That's the first time Eric and Danielle have actually made love, and I was nervous about that. I hope it worked!
I welcome to you, the start of the shitstorm.
Edited by laurenwolfe12