Christ, she was one spectacular-looking woman. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on her long, lithe body, and yet she wasn’t lacking in curves. His gaze lingered on her breasts again, saliva flooding his mouth as he imagined those firm tits filling his hands, hard little nipples straining against his palms.
She submerged herself to rinse off the shampoo, then popped up again. “I traveled at night and slept during the day, usually in the woods. I was planning on heading to the West Coast. Then I ran into a guy who told me about the bar. I went there, met you guys, and the end.”
He didn’t believe her.
Her story sounded like all the ones he’d heard hundreds of times before. Friends and families killed during sweeps, finding yourself alone in a world that wasn’t safe anymore. It had happened to him, to his friends, to strangers he’d met, and there was no reason why it couldn’t have happened to Hudson.
But he still didn’t believe her.
“And this training you claim to have?” he prompted. “The medical knowledge? How’d that happen, sweetheart?”
“Can you stop calling me sweetheart?”
Her annoyed reply caught him off guard. Or maybe he was shaken because she was getting out of the tub, making it impossible not to notice, well, everything. Droplets pooled on her smooth pale skin, glistening on her tits and sliding down those incredible legs. He wanted to reach out and touch her. Lick those drops off her.
“You say it like an insult,” she went on, “not a term of endearment. So unless you want me to start calling you something equally insulting, like babycakes or some shit, call me by my name.”
He fought a grin.
“Now, pass me a towel. I’m getting cold.” The pink splotches on her cheeks betrayed her blasé tone.
She wasn’t used to being naked in front of a man – Connor instantly sensed that. Which made him wonder… Shit, was she a virgin?
His cock twitched at the thought of being the first to slide into her tight, hot body. Jesus. He really needed to get laid. Soon. Before he did something seriously stupid.
He grabbed a thin towel from the rack behind the door and handed it over without a word. She wrapped the towel around her body, tucked it over her breasts to keep it closed, then marched right past him and left the bathroom.
Connor’s jaw hardened. “The training,” he repeated, his voice harsh.
“Some of the people I was with fought in the People’s Army before it was disbanded.”
Keeping her back turned to him, she pulled a few items of clothing out of her bag. Then her shoulders tensed, as if she were debating what to do next.
What she did next was let the towel drop to the floor, providing him with a torturous view of the sweetest ass he’d ever seen.
His dick pulsed with need.
Grow the fuck up, he told his attention whore of a cock.
“They taught me how to fight,” she added over her shoulder. “And one of them was a medic, so he made sure I knew the basics.”
She wiggled into a pair of red panties, yanked black leggings up to her hips, and slipped into a loose T-shirt. “When the Enforcers found us, fighting back didn’t get us anywhere. They have better weapons, better vehicles, better everything. My group didn’t stand a chance.”
It wasn’t the first time Connor had heard those words. Hell, he’d uttered them himself, knew firsthand what those bastards were capable of. Dominik and his men showed no mercy.
But goddamn it, he didn’t believe her.
“You’re lying to me.” His tone was hard, his expression even more so.
She took a step toward him, bringing with her the scent of soap and coconut shampoo. Connor held his breath, refusing to let the alluring fragrance cloud his judgment. Everything about her got to him. The way she walked, her determination, that odd paradox of fearless vulnerability.
He wanted to sink his cock inside her and fuck her blind.
“Connor —” she started.
“You’re lying. I don’t know why and I’m not sure I care. But you’re lying.”
No mistaking the flicker of panic in her eyes. “Damn it, what more do you want to hear?”
“The truth, for one.”
Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “Can’t you just be satisfied with the story I told you?”
He chuckled despite himself. The way she phrased it – the story I told you – was all but an admission of guilt.
“Sorry, sweetheart, but the truth is the only thing that’ll satisfy me.”
“What if the truth is too awful?” Her voice rang with uneasiness. “What if it’s unforgivable?”