Page 19 of Some Like It Hot

Nothing, but she didn’t have time to grieve, not with more explosions, not with the night turning to blaze around her.

She still couldn’t see, the world glossy and reddened, her eyes turning to water. But his voice—she always heard his voice parting the smoke, the gunfire, the piercing whine of the rockets.Larke!

Here. I am here!

He still felt so achingly real when he landed on her, his body armor all sharp panes and bulky. His helmet slammed against hers, his breath cascading over her face, his chin strap bumping hers.

“Stay down.”

Hard breathing, but she knew his smell, knew the strength of him, and for a moment—too long maybe—she simply dug her hands into his vest and held on.

Freeman.

He completely covered her body, his trembling over hers, holding himself there as long as he could before he began to sink onto her.

Only then did she feel the moisture saturating her, sticky and hot, and when she reached between them—

No!

The scream always slithered through her like a snake, coiling, greedy jaws open to clamp into her windpipe, teeth against her flesh, ripping, choking as she fought to tear the sound from her body.

Freeman!

She managed, this time, to get her hands up, to push him off her, to roll him over and clamber on top of him.

To take off his helmet and wipe the soot and ash from his face, find his eyes—

Riley.

Her entire body jerked, those brown eyes staring up at her, into her, finding her bones, holding her still, so much power in his gaze she stopped breathing.

Until he jerked, his entire body trembling, and suddenly he was convulsing, shaking her off. She clung to him, pinning him down. No—Riley!

With a shout she came awake, hard and ripping through the layers of the nightmare into the harsh sunlight that poured through her skylight.

So much sunlight cascading across the shiny pine flooring, rippling into the folds of her sweaty, tangled sheets. She lay on top of them, having ripped them off, and now pressed both hands to her chest, gulping in breaths.

Freeman, not Riley.

Not Riley.

And she barely knew the man, so—

Yeah, she needed to get her head on right. Larke sat up, let the chilly floor on her bare feet shudder a little brutal reality through her.

Her nightmares were simply playing tricks on her, probably reaching out of her subconscious to haunt her with the words she’d spoken yesterday.

Stay alive.

She got up, walked downstairs to the bathroom, and splashed water on her face. Glanced at the clock.

After 8:00 a.m. Seriously. She turned on the shower, stepped inside, and let the water sluice the dream away, bracing her hands on the tile walls.

Or tried to, because Riley’s brown eyes kept finding her, even after she’d turned off the shower, grabbed a towel, dried herself, and pulled on her bathrobe.

She made coffee, got dressed in a pair of loose jeans and a T-shirt, poured herself a cup of black fuel, and stepped outside.

Smoke still tufted the sky in the distance, although it seemed thinner, as if dying, and deep inside a fist released. She might have been holding her breath—it sort of felt like it.