Fallout: Fury Blood

Chapter 40: Something's Gotta Give

*WARNING*
Sexy-time

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Dinner hour couldn't pass fast enough. It was like time had deliberately slowed just to piss on her patience. Kelly lurked in the mess hall after her meal, reining in her craving for her night coffee, both because it was a bad habit, and because she wouldn't need the caffeine hit to accompany the alcohol.

She felt like a rebellious adolescent again, feverish before a night of hardcore partying, knowing her crush would be there to play the game of catch and kiss. Except she was thirty, there would be no hardcore partying, and Danse definitely would not be chasing her for a kiss.

Tonight was for him, not for her, she reminded herself with a stern monologue. She had no intention of letting this escalate and put his integrity at risk once more.

So keep your panties on and your cleavage zipped up, Kelly. You already went too far when you spanked the poor man.

When 1900 was rolling nearer, Kelly slipped off from the mess with a casual tread, though every fibre of her wanted to break out into a frenzied sprint for the lower deck.

Danse was already waiting. Shit on it. Of course he was ahead of schedule-he was Danse. He was leaning nonchalantly against a supply crate, handsome features carved by the dim lighting, the dusting of fur on his face well-defined, arms folded loosely, garbed in his usual olive jumpsuit uniform, that bomber jacket on and looking damn fine. Kelly slowed her incoming pace just to drink in the sight of him and constrain her feminine reaction that bloomed without warning.

When she picked up the pace on approach, his attention snapped to her and he stood out of genteel habit, the smile that came next full of intimate warmth. His brown eyes seemed so large and liquid all of a sudden as she came nearer. Large and liquid just for her.

Put them away, Danse. Please. Put them away before I kiss you.

He pulled himself free from her eyes and produced something from atop the crate behind him. A bottle of whiskey. "I wasn't sure if we were bringing our own or using the supply down here from Teagan, so I thought it was safe to bring this just in case."

Danse and whiskey combined made heaven for a woman like her, and she bit her lip before favoring him with one keen eye. "If I remember right, you warned me not to get you wasted. So you brought hard liquor, and I bring beers."

His laughter was deep and subdued upon his realization. "You have a point. Perhaps I got a little overexcited. Should I go back and exchange it for a pack of beers instead?" He playfully moved the bottle back behind him to animate the prospect.

"No! No, whiskey's good." Kelly lunged for it before he could hide it out of her reach, her body skimming over his in the action, and she caught a fume of his natural scent before receding. A warm, potent musk weaved with leather, machine grease, and gun powder. Shit.

Danse was oblivious to his effect on her, roaming over to the nearest chair beside the small table. His fingers scooted over two shot glasses and his brows pointedly flicked to the bottle in her hold. Kelly only smiled and stepped to hand it off again to him, watching in anticipation as he poured them each a generous shot. Steady hands, she observed.

She sat opposite him as he handed her a shot, their eyes connected, and then they grinned and clinked their glasses together.

"I would say Ad Victoriam," Danse uttered, "but it would seem a little conceited, I think..."