First lemon. I'm trying to get past my own squeamishness and try something new.

Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer- I am not Ally Carter. Ally Carter is much too classy to write about the sordid sort of things I write about.

Chapter One

Permafrost

Zachary Good couldn't sleep.

It was quiet. Too quiet, he thought. He had lived in cities and loud Circle headquarters all of his life. Quiet—especially the complete silence like he had found there, in the Nebraska countryside—was completely alien to him. Not entirely unpleasant, but alien nonetheless.

He tossed and turned. His bed, in the guest room provided by Grandma Morgan, was soft and warm, but it was a little much. The extra blankets piled atop the original blanket—also provided, with a warm smile and wishes for sweet dreams, by Grandma Morgan—felt like more than he could bear.

How odd this universe was, the cozy niceness. The world he had grown up in had been harsh; his mother often beat him, and the men who trained him in the ways of his world were not any kinder, either. Ever since he had been on his own, he had either been running away from someone, with Joe Solomon, or looking for Cammie—comfort, and love, were two things that he was entirely unaccustomed to.

But when Cammie, at the end of the first semester of their senior year, had suggested that he go with her to her grandparent's home, he had thought she was joking. Zach Goode, despite his skill and charm, was not the kind of boy a girl brought home to meet her family. Still, she persisted, and by the time she was leaving for Nebraska, Zach had found himself packed and on his way to a side of Cammie's world that he had never seen.

It was a nice side, he had decided. Eerie, but nice.

So there he was, in the guestroom bed, and unable to sleep. He decided to attribute this to the aforementioned eerie quality of the 'homey' situation.

Mostly, though, he knew it was because of the fact that Cammie was in her own bed, two rooms away from him.

Even though he had been there for nearly five days, the novelty had never been lost on him. From the first night, the thought of her asleep—in whatever kind of pajamas she wore here—had made him feel fizzy inside. It was stupid and childish, he knew, but he spent most of his time wondering what it would be like to kiss her. In her bed. Without his (or her) pajamas on…

Good god, he sounded like a five year old.

Something had to be done.

Before he could change his own mind, Zach swung his feet onto the cool wood floor. He stood, plotting his best way of getting to Cammie's room (could he climb down his window and edge along the ledge of the porch roof to her own room? No, too much noise) and decided that the best way would be just to walk there. And if he was caught, he could just say he was going to the bathroom or make up some other bullshit excuse.

With that, he opened the door, crept into the hall, gently turned the knob of her door, and shut it within seconds.

Cammie's room was just as dark as his. He hadn't seen it before that moment (Cammie's grandparents, knowledgeable about the obvious relationship between the two teenagers, had hinted at a no-sharing-of-rooms policy. Going into her room at all would be pressing his luck, but going there, at night, was nearing suicide-mission dangerous) but decided that the décor wasn't his biggest worry.

"Gallagher Girl?" He whispered. "You awake?"

"Zach?" The girl called from her bed, her voice surprised but fully alert. "I didn't hear you come in."

He chuckled as he blindly made his way to the bed. He sat on the edge. "You're getting sloppy."

She laughed back. "Home always makes me sloppy."

In the dim moonlight filtering in through the window, Zach saw her scoot over and pat the bed beside her. Hesitantly, he slipped under the covers and laid his head on the pillow, facing the ceiling.

Little glowing shapes were glued to the ceiling, something he hadn't noticed before his eyes adjusted. It made him smile.

"I like your glow-in-the-dark-stars. Very classy."

He felt, rather than heard, her chuckle beside him.

"When I was eight, I had an obsession with the stars. My parents bought me this huge telescope before I came here that summer, because you can see the stars so much better."

"I noticed that. It's like they tripled in number or something."

She laughed, absentmindedly snuggling into his chest as she said, "Yeah, it seems like they do."

Zach was about to say something in response, but his words died in his throat.

Because Cammie—lovely Cammie, who happened to be his unofficial official girlfriend/romantic interest—was not wearing pants.

He didn't really know how he found out. One second, his fingertips accidentally brushed some skin that, after some moments of silent contemplation, he realized was her bare thigh. It wasn't covered by pants or a dress or something else even remotely substantial. He longed to continue moving his fingers along that area, but he knew that wouldn't exactly be received well.

Then she kissed him, and he questioned that original statement (but soon forgot it, because kissing is something one can easily get lost in.)

The kiss was slow and leisurely. It had almost seemed accidental, the way her lips moved closer and closer to his. He wrapped an arm around her small waist as she stuck a hand in his hair, the other on the small of his back. Their lips played together in a game of overlapping movement, never ending and fluid in their grace. Their tongues gently danced around each other, delicate and timid in their approach. It was a gentle, gradual kiss—the kind they rarely indulged in—and they enjoyed it in its languid splendor. They lived fast lives, so soft moments such as this were rare.

But soon that wasn't enough. Their lips collided with a growing fierceness. Their embrace tightened as she moved atop him and he wrapped both of his strong arms around her waist. Her fingers played with the hem of his t-shirt, and soon moved over his tight abdomen. He sighed as she ran her hands over his muscles, but she suddenly broke away.

"Zach?"

"Yes?"

"Can you take your shirt off?"

She sat up, the covers falling off her shoulders as she straddled him. His eyes, which had been closed during the kiss, readjusted to the dim room and were able to roam over her slight curves; her thighs and hips, underwear barely concealed by her t-shirt, stomach and breasts shrouded by the blasted cotton, all the way to her grinning, beautiful face.

Damn.

"Why, Cam?"

"Because," she said simply, "I like you with no shirt. I see you without a shirt a lot-"

He chuckled, remembering her bumping into him weeks before when he was in a towel; when he had been in the barn and she yelled at him, so long ago…

"…But I can never touch," she finished absentmindedly.

Without asking his permission, she placed trembling fingers on the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up and off in one smooth motion. Cammie grinned to herself as she watch his stomach muscles tighten under her hands, his breathing shorten as she kissed his neck and collarbone. His skin was warm under her fingers, and that delicious smell that she always noticed—boy and soap and Zach—filled her nose and mouth as she kissed his shoulders.

"Well, someone is getting excited," she murmured in between breathless kisses. The hardness in his pants pressed against her underwear, and he flushed, suddenly and uncharacteristically shy.

"Sorry, we can stop if you-"

"Are you kidding me? God, no. We're in this far," she said, giggling nervously, ironically.

With that, she pulled off her own shirt, exposing her lean, flat stomach and breasts to the moon-lit room.

Zach sucked in a breath as she attacked him with kisses, the skin of their bodies pressing together. He smiled and growled playfully as they rolled around on the bed—she moaned as he gently cupped her breasts, kissing down to her collarbone and then further to her rosy peaks which had hardened at his touch.

"Zach, what are you…?"

"Shh," he whispered. He attacked her breast with his mouth, his tongue encircling her nipple. She moaned, arching her back.

"God, Zach," she panted. Zach grinned as he ran his hands over and between her thighs, his fingertips barely grazing her pelvic bone, and her hips bucked, breath quickening. Her whole body seemed to flush, heat rushing to the most delicate of areas between her legs.

"Cam, I…" Zach trailed off, breaking off and looking into her eyes. Their chests heaved together, two pairs of eyes speaking of everything they were feeling. "Do you really want to do this?"

There were many decisions in their lives that they had had to face prematurely. Many of those had to do with life and death; most were the kind of decisions that no teenager should have to face at that age, let alone ever. They were two people who had seen more horrors than many; they were mature beyond their years.

They felt—lying there, limbs entwined, skin burning with sensation—that this decision should have been easy. Yet, it wasn't. Even as desire raged through their hormone-racked bodies, they hesitated.

Then, quietly, almost imperceptibly, Cammie nodded.

The rest came gently. They had come from slow to giddy to slow again, but this felt even newer than the other emotions that had raced through them in that short time span. The intimacy of the moment weighed down on them as they stripped away the rest of their clothes, the only sounds surrounding them the soft rustles of removing clothes and sharp little intakes of breath as they brushed against each other in the dark.

Finally, the moment of truth; their bodies pressed together, eyes locked, arms around each other.

Slowly, almost reverently, he entered her. She clenched her teeth together at the slight bit of pain, and he whispered his apologies and buried his face in her neck, guilt racking his soul as he slowed and let her adjust. After a few moments, Cammie whispered, "Okay," then he commenced.

Their movement was rhythmic, like the waves of the ocean. Cammie wrapped her legs around his waist, wanting to bring him closer—ever closer, never close enough—and he groaned quietly as she kissed him, tongue slipping into his mouth.

Almost at once, the urgency came again, and they continued to kiss to muffle their moans. He kept his thrusts as small as he could to minimize the creaking of her bed frame and the floor, but the thought of her grandparents catching them soon vanished in the pleasure of the moment.

They were lost to each other. All thoughts of anything else in their world were instantly dissipated in that moment of pure bliss as they reached a new plateau of existence, together and together and as one. They both longed to scream, longed to moan and gasp and call out each other's names, but the words stayed in their throats, in their interlocked mouths.

After it all ended, they laid together, side by side, facing the ceiling. The stars glued there didn't glow as brightly, as if they were feeling judgmental and, as a result, were shunning them from the soft artificial light. Their bodies, so interlocked and completely together not moments before, were almost ridged as they distracted themselves from the moment by dressing as quietly as they could.

Finally, there were no more distractions. They stood on opposite sides of the bed, the dim light masking them as mere silhouettes.

"So…" They both started at once, and then laughed awkwardly. Between the two of them, they were both prolific in nearly twenty languages, fairly good in six more, but completely incapable of knowing what to say.

"What do we do now?" She asked.

He shrugged. "You tell me."

They were quiet, and then she finally said, "Maybe you should go back to your room."

He nodded, knowing that this was the best thing. The sun would be rising soon, and her grandparents would no doubt be waking up within the hour. Any thoughts of them continuing this… Whatever it was… Was, at least for today, foolish.

He softly padded to her door, but turned to her at the last moment. She bumped into him in her hurry to close the door behind him, and he looked down at her. Their hearts, despite their years of training to prevent such an occurrence, were in their eyes, and anything either of them had planned to say was lost in the kiss that quickly followed.

The kiss, as many of their past kisses had had to do, spoke of everything they either didn't know or couldn't say. It was a final kiss, as if they were deciding that this was the only time they would allow themselves to do something this distracting, at least for the time being.

They did, after all, have terrorists to take down, lives to save, and loved ones to avenge; they couldn't allow things as silly as love or sex get in the way of that.

They broke away from each other, and they both found themselves smiling. The sun, so sneaky in its approach, broke through her window, highlighting his face and streaming around her mussed hair.

"Until next time, Gallagher Girl," he said quietly, and he smirked. She rolled her eyes and grinned.

He walked away and into the hall, closing his door behind him, and she closed hers, and they grinned to themselves in a way they had never grinned before as the morning sun rose over the blindingly snow-covered hills.