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“I don’t know. It’s not bad here, I know that much.” I touch her chin, threading my fingers into her hair and turn her face so I can meet her eyes. “You can stay here as long as you want. I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe.” When her eyebrows draw together and she looks away, I feel a pinch in my chest. She’s going to go.
“I can contact everyone on my appointment calendar to reschedule.” Her hands circle my wrists. “But, I can’t just stay here forever, Sam. I mean, I like it—you—this.” She flicks her fingers pointing between us. “It’s just, well, a lot. All at once.”
Fair enough. She isn’t running away. I can feel the tension in my shoulders leave a little.
“But, you can stay for a little while.” This whole situation is insane, but her just not wanting to rush, I can live with that. It won’t stop me from ramming my cock into her every chance I get though.
At that, the rebellious appendage pushes between us.
The blush working up her neck when she feels me pressing into her stomach has me throbbing. My lips find the smooth skin of her pale unblemished neck. I thought I bit her last night enough to leave a mark, but I’ll happily attempt again. Nibbling the tendon of her delicate throat, she moans, melting against me.
“Sam?” Her breathing quickens, her fingers move down my arms.
“Hmm?” I rasp before my tongue teases the soft hollow below her ear, gloating to myself when her legs tremble as I brush the lobe of her ear with my cheek.
“I’ll need more clothes. It shouldn’t take too long. I’ll just run home and be right back.” Her hand touches my cheek and she pulls away. She rips the oxygen from my chest when she does. I don’t want to stop. It takes all of my willpower to let her step back.
“I’m going with you. We can take my truck.” I have a big one ton for the farm. Brush guard, heavy skid plate, steel doors. It would take a lot to stop it. And it sounds like downtown is already going crazy.
“Thank you.” Her relief is evident. I can’t believe she thought I’d let her go alone.
Time to dig into the gun safe.
Chapter twenty-three
DANI
Mystomachisinturmoil as we pull out of the driveway. The revolver that Sam showed me how to use hangs heavily in its makeshift holster across my chest. It embodies the weight of the situation, bearing down in cold steely reality, suffocating my every breath.
I just can’t imagine things are that different from yesterday. Granted, I left directly from the clinic, having already packed my bag. And it was dark when I drove here. Searching my memories, do I remember seeing anything strange on the way? Maybe just that the traffic was less than normal.
Does that mean people were home, sick, dying, changing? While I was focused on just getting to Sam?
A little flicker of guilt flashes through me. I know there’s nothing I could have done. And this is happening all over the country. I shouldn’t feel responsible for all of those people.
But, I do.
Poor Becky. It’s so weird to think Alex was so evil when he looked so fragile in that bed.
There is so much to wrap my head around. And all interspersed with my overwhelming thoughts of Sam. What he does to me, how he makes me feel. And so confident asking me to stay. It makes me feel like I’m on a high speed merry-go-round. At warp speed.
The stiff suspension of the truck makes the gun bounce painfully against my ribs, a constant reminder that I need to be watching around us.
We don’t pass a single moving vehicle. The streets are dead, empty. Cars sit quietly in the driveways. Windows of businesses are dark, even now at midday.
“I never thought I’d see the day there isn’t a line at Starbucks,” Sam says ruefully as we pass the empty coffee shop.
“Maybe this was a bad idea.” The words leave my lips a half comment, half thought to myself. I can’t believe how quickly everything has changed. It’s like driving through some bad movie set. Surreal.
I tried calling my mom and Jenny. Neither one answered. I leave lots of messages and just hope that they call me back. Jenny made it through the illness; she caught it early like me.
A station wagon rolls by, the first car we’ve seen. Boise is a huge city, often with bumper to bumper traffic. One car is almost more disconcerting than none. It’s packed to the top, overflowing even. There are garbage bags and boxes strapped to the roof, with more people than seats crammed inside. The driver gives a small wave as he passes.
“I think this was definitely a bad idea.” I slump in the seat, my eyes just high enough to see through the window.
“Do you want to turn back? I don’t mind you running around naked,” Sam offers with a large grin. His blue eyes sparkle mischievously as he glances my way.
I can’t help but smile. “That is great and all, but it’s a bit chilly outside for naked.”