Dollface

Part 69

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Soft lips kiss slow, open mouth kisses down my neck, to my collarbones and back up to my jaw, I stir in my sleep and finally open my eyes when I notice Simon's touch. He is still on top of me, head leaning against my chest. I shift my weight a little and stretch my legs out with a tired effort.

S: We slept for two hours.

He informs me in a raspy voice. I stare at the ceiling for a few moments, blinking the exhaustion from my eyes, his fingertips gently brushing my arm before he helps him lift himself from our comfortable position on the couch.

I sit next to him and stretch my arms out as I moan softly.

I: When are we leaving?
S: In a few minutes actually, we have no time to waste.

Simom reaches for the duffel bag, digs through it almost immediately, pulls out one of his guns, checks it, and finds it's only five bullets short. I hear the familiar sound of a click as he reloads it.

I: I want a gun.

Simon looks at me with a questioning expression, almost unsure of my behavior. I'm pretty sure he's going to refuse, but then a smirk curls his lips and he reaches for a gun, holding it out to me confidently. I'm shocked, honestly.

I: I didn't think this would actually work.
S: We're totally on my terms, not your father's. And personally, I find it very hot.

He murmurs next to me, leaning forward. His face is just inches away when he stops, so close I can feel his seductively hot breath on my lips. My eyes flicker to his lips for a brief second before darting back to his stare.

S: Just don't shoot me.
I: Only if you piss me off.

He grins, amused by my comment, and closes the space between our lips with a gentle kiss.

S: I do that a lot.

With a smile I take the gun from his hand and he closes the bag again, pulls it over his shoulder and stands up.

A hand is held out to me as I stood by him and takes it as he begins to walk out the door. I take one last look at the dreary interior of the house before closing the door behind me.

The air is hot and humid so I strip down to a plain tank top and shorts as soon as we get in the car.

The drive to the airport really wasn't that long, just an hour or two and when we get there Simon of course has his options for getting through security, the airport is busy, full of movement and hectic people, the occasional tourist and their children, businessmen and women. A common scene for any airport.

I keep my head down for a tiny fraction of reassurance as Simon walks casually beside me, dark eyes focused and alert.

S: Something is wrong.

He murmurs beside me, keeping his voice low. Turning to look at him immediately, though he doesn't return the gaze. He's too busy examining our surroundings, the features of his face show the focus; furrowed brows, dead serious eyes, and a clenched jaw.

My eyes scan the very large crowd, hectic people, and any source that would allow me to distinguish normal from abnormally wrong. However, I see nothing.

I: What is it?
S: I don't know yet.

Simon suddenly grabs my hand, and with an abrupt jerk we practically disappear into a crowd of chattering people, the expression on his face is one I have to recognize and become familiar with, I recognize it with an efficient speed. It saves me the anger and pain.

He's lying.

I may not be quick to scrutinize everything about someone or something, not like Simon, but I've spent enough time with this man that I know he's not being honest with me.