Free In His Command by Rie Warren Page B

help me set up camp?”
    His eyes narrowed in challenge. “You’re gonna keep pretending nothin’ affects you, big man?”
    “Fuck you.” I stormed to the Land Cruiser, kicking the crust of mud from a tire.
    Beside me, he reached into the back of the vehicle, pulling out supplies. “Gladly take you up on that offer, but I usually like to have a decent conversation with my lovers first.”
    “Guess you’re out of luck. I don’t do idle chitchat.” Should have remembered that when I opened my big mouth earlier.
    Busy unpacking the essentials for the night, my mind backtracked to the day’s journey. It was a good thing we had fresh water to clean up with, after Blondie’s antics once he took over driving. With him at the wheel, I’d been vigilant. The rebellion was contained within the environs of Alpha—the insurgents concentrating on seats of power—leaving me on the lookout for possible Nomad tangos. I’d been heedful of the unrecognizable landscape and more than a little fixated on Blondie.
    He’d draped a wrist over the wheel, and a whistle, of all the goddamn things, had parted his lips. How the hell can he be so relaxed? He’d dropped his CO makeover the same way he’d switched his package-hugging suit for ass-cupping camos.
    After the Purge, the roads had been blown up, making any to-and-fro almost impossible. The Cruiser’s struts bounced over ruts in the nearly invisible dirt track, getting a good workout. I was getting a workout, too, restraining my eyes from his thighs shifting with every press of clutch and gas, biting back my moan as the scorching sun sent a trickle of sweat from his temple to jaw and down the ropes of his neck.
    Performing an all-points check, I’d pressed my foot down to the running board, hoping to hit an imaginary brake. “You’re not driving through that.”
    That was a wide well of brackish water, scummy with a yellow sheen on top.
    “The great Commander Cannon scared of a bog? Ain’t gonna hurt you none. I’ve done it before.” He gave me a sideways glance and a halfway smile.
    It wasn’t a bog. It was a damn swamp, and we had no idea how deep it ran. In no mood to lose our transport on the first day out, I glared at him. “You’re fucking crazy.”
    “Maybe. But this is gonna be fun. I promise you.”
    He’d motored right into the swamp, shouting a whoop-holler when mud cascaded in thick fountains on either side of us. The Land Cruiser stuttered, and he’d eased it smoothly out of the suction, slicing left and right. His boyish delight pressed a dimple into his cheek. By the time we’d reached the other side, I was grinning, he was laughing, and the commissary vehicle was coated in the same oily muck splattered up our arms to our faces.
    Bumping along, sun drying, I’d asked, “You’ve been outside Alpha before?”
    “’Course I have. You know that.” His wicked look seared through me, tightening my groin.
    I’d brushed away immediate hunger, hulking against the door. “Not talkin’ about the Theater, Blondie.”
    “I have a name, y’ know.”
    Yeah, Nathaniel. It’s etched on my brain. The first time I said it was gonna be when I slid inside that perfect ass of his. “I meant, have you been out here for official business…or family?”
    His mercurial face closed up shop. That’s why I had one expression in my repertoire. The fuck-you look.
    He’d stopped the vehicle to face me. “Yeah, I got family. And yes, I been out here before.”
    Bounties were paid for gays turned in, a new kind of headhunter for Team RACE. I’d met his eyes. “I still think you’re screwing with me.”
    “Do you? Maybe I’m just more adept at hidin’ what I am; I’ve been indoctrinated and brought up in the Company way, after all. Now, you? You show your desire every time you look at me, Caspar. Don’t believe for a second I don’t see it.” He’d leaned in, whispering, “Don’t think for a moment I don’t want you on top of me, inside of me.”
    I