When Charlie roused the next morning, she noticed two things: Bass was still in bed with her, which was highly unusual for the man, and he was awake and those piercing blue eyes were staring at her, which was typical.

"Plotting your next strategy, General?" she kidded, shifting around under the sheets until they were nearly nose-to-nose.

He gave her a half-smile, one that indicated he was doing that very thing. On what, she didn't know. She changed tactic.

"How long have you been awake?" she prodded, one hand idly skimming his bare chest.

"An hour or two," he gravelly replied, halting her hand from wandering lower. Charlie lifted an eyebrow.

For the first time in ages Bass had soundly slept through the night, without concern there was a target on his back.

Even though Rachel was merely feet away in the next room and would gladly have murdered him in his sleep — Miles probably wanted him dead, too, for that matter — he knew they wouldn't attack with Charlie being in close proximity. He was using her just like she was using him.

But while he valued his own skin above all, Charlie had singlehandedly penetrated the wall he had built after Miles left. He wasn't ready to admit it out loud that he needed her, for she was the only shred of humanity keeping him in this rotten world. He would, however, kill or be killed for her.

Charlie had been with Bass long enough to know when to push for a response and when to give him space. He would share his next strategy when he was good and ready so why not have a little fun in the meantime?

She gave him a wicked smile as she slid her foot up his calf. He growled, releasing her wandering hand to grab the back of her neck and pull her lips to his. She smiled into the rough kiss and shifted her weight to force him to lay back.

Straddling his waist, Charlie looked down at him in triumph, her long hair curtained around them. Bass gazed up her, eyes dark with desire — and for a fleeting second wished everyday could be like this — before gripping her hips and arching against her, burying himself to the hilt in a single thrust.

Later that morning they made their way downstairs like a couple of guilty teenagers to face the firing squad she called her family.