Page 72 of Bad Blood

I took a deep breath as a violent disappointment speared through me, then let it go on my next exhale. “Oils?”

“Yeah, I usually make oil from apple seeds, but I need to make more. I only have a little left.”

Oil? From apple seeds? Those tiny little things in the center of the apples? “Why do we need oil?”

He paused, something sad flickering across his face. It disappeared quickly. “So you don’t get hurt when I put my fingers inside you. It would hurt without any kind of oil or…or slick substance.” His cheeks turned pink. “I mean, I guess we could use…uh…our c-cum.”

I nodded. “Yes. Let’s use our cum.”

He laughed. “You’re really something else, you know that?”

I didn’t know what he meant. “Something else? Like what?”

His big hand slid up and down my side in a soothing motion, burning my skin with the heat of his palm. “Something special,” he said softly.

Something special.

I wasspecial.

“Can I help you make the oil?”

His gaze softened and warmed as he stared up at me. “Yeah. Of course you can.”

“Okay. Now touch me,” I demanded. If I couldn’t have himinme, I needed his handsonme, at the very least.

“Please,” he said, lifting his brows. But he was laughing, the sound deep and low and full of joy.

“Please.”

I moved down so I could lower my face to his, needing to be closer, to feel him everywhere. I pressed my cheek against his and rubbed, my lips finding soft skin, my tongue darting out to taste it.

He trailed his fingers down my spine and palmed my ass, and I thought I’d never been happier than I was in this moment.

But that thought was soon overshadowed the fear that I might never be this happy again.

Before Cain, I hadn’t known anything good. I didn’t know what to expect anymore, but I did know that Iwantedwith every ounce of my being. I wanted what he had to offer, I wanted his smiles and his touch and his kindness.

I wanted this strange new life with him.

So I pushed away the unease that was trying to stifle my newfound joy and just let myself be.

A week later,a horrible dread woke me from a deep sleep.

I sat up, breathing hard and trying to figure out where I was. The dim light in the room was enough to show me I was in the bedroom.

With Cain.

We were sleeping in the bed. Together.

I whipped my head to the left and there he was, lying on his stomach, his face mushed into the pillow.

I groaned and turned over. The bed creaked underneath me as I reached for Cain. Found his hair. Sifted the soft strands between my fingers.

“Cain,” I whispered, shuffling closer. I kissed his cheekbone, his jaw, his shoulder. I was obsessed with putting my lips on him. Obsessed with everything about him.

A week had passed since he’d removed the muzzle and collar.

I was free. I was finally free, and Cain was teaching me how to read now. He was showing me how he maintained the bunker. He was giving me so much knowledge, so many new things to do, and when I did things right, he rewarded me, too.