Page 9 of Making Haven (Haven #1)

Devin

My heart is hammering against the inside of my ribs. I feel like I can barely suck in enough breath to survive. This is a mistake. This is so fucking stupid. Yet I can’t find it in myself to regret the words.

I watch with wide eyes as Lawrence steps over to me. He falls to his knees with a grace that makes my mouth run dry. Why the hell did I tell him to do this? Why am I letting him kneel between my legs?

Why the fuck do I find this position so fucking hot?

I do my best to keep my breathing in check but my heart has a mind of its own, slamming against my ribs. I clench my fingers where they lay against the stump I’m sitting on, keeping myself from doing something foolish like running my fingers through his white hair.

Why do I ache to touch him? What the fuck is happening to me? Can vampires put humans under spells?

“Ready?”

I blink, realizing I’d been staring at him. My cheeks warm without my permission and I quickly look at a tree over his shoulder. I nod and give him a grunt to tell him I’m ready.

Lawrence gets some of the shaving cream onto his hands before carefully putting it on my face.

I suck in a sharp breath, cursing the way my stomach flutters at the touch.

His brows furrow as his fingers smooth the cream over my cheeks, down to my chin.

I tilt my head up, letting him spread the shaving cream to my neck.

This is intimate in a way that makes me want to push him away and fucking run, but I keep myself in place.

“There we go,” Lawrence whispers and I can feel his breath against my skin. A shiver runs through me that has nothing to do with the cool night air.

“Remember what I said,” I murmur, my voice coming out gruffer than I mean for it to be. I clear my throat. “Please don’t cut me. I’ve survived this long, I’m not going out by a slip up during a shave.”

“Your pretty face is safe with me.”

Huh. He thinks I’m pretty?

I close my eyes as the razor touches my left cheek, starting just below my ear. It moves down, the scraping of it against my facial hair is loud in the otherwise quiet space we’ve made for ourselves.

Sinking into the feeling, I let myself have this. It’s just a moment of peace in an otherwise world of distrust and shit. After everything, I’ve earned this, haven’t I? I deserve this one moment just to enjoy another person doing something kind for me, even if I know it won’t last forever.

What’s the point of surviving if I don’t allow myself to live?

A shaky breath escapes me as my body finally loses the tension I’ve been holding in, maybe for the last two years. I tilt my head slightly, giving Lawrence a better angle for shaving my cheek and down to my throat. Despite my best efforts to keep him at arm’s length, I trust him.

At the very least, I trust him not to slit my throat and drain me of my blood. That must count for something, right?

“Alright,” Lawrence whispers, “that side is looking good. Let’s move to your other cheek.”

I turn my head for him, my stomach flipping as his fingers gently touch my chin, moving me the way he wants. I swallow around the lump in my throat. I want to say something, anything, but can’t find the words. Instead, I keep my eyes firmly closed, not wanting to get caught staring.

The razor runs down my right cheek, Lawrence’s movements calculated and careful. When was the last time someone cared for me like this? When was the last time I felt gentleness?

Fuck, why is this making me so emotional? Why is this putting so many things into perspective?

“Now I’m gonna do your chin and your throat. Tilt your head up for me?”

My heart is hammering against my ribs as I tilt my head up. With Lawrence’s super hearing, I would be surprised if he couldn’t hear the way this is affecting me. Despite all of that, I keep my face blank, doing my best to keep what little walls I have left up in place.

“How do we feel about the mustache? Do you wanna keep it or should that go too?”

“Get rid of it,” I tell him, finally allowing myself to open my eyes.

I pinch my lips together as he shaves my mustache away, doing my best to make it easier for him.

This close, I can make out the details of his face that I’ve been pointedly ignoring up to this point.

His eyes are icy blue, so at odds with how warm and welcoming he’s been since meeting him.

They’re pretty. Really pretty. Just like the rest of him.

Those pretty blue eyes dart around my face, checking and double checking that he’s gotten everything. He nods to himself, his lips splitting into a smile when he’s decided everything looks good.

“Perfect,” Lawrence says, picking up a cloth I didn’t even realize he had, wiping the excess shaving cream away from my face. Without my permission, I lean into his touch. “All done.”

Lawrence drops the cloth but his hand is still on my face, skin to skin. His touch is cooler than I was expecting but not unwelcome. He swipes what must be the tiniest bit of shaving cream away from my upper lip. Before he can move away fully, I pucker up my lips, kissing his thumb.

Fuck.

Shit.

Why the hell did I do that?

I’m expecting him to pull away, or to give me a look of disgust. Instead, he looks at me with a cross of bewilderment and wonder. My stomach is turning itself into knots, unsure of what I’m doing, only that I want to do this, whatever it is, with Lawrence.

I want to live instead of just clawing my way through survival.

“How do I look?”

Lawrence’s eyes stare at my mouth for a long moment before they’re finally snapping up to meet my own. He licks his lips before whispering, “perfect.” His voice breaks and he pulls away, clearing his throat. I immediately miss him being in my space. “You look incredibly handsome.”

“Thank you. Thank you for doing that. I really appreciate it.”

Lawrence stands up, putting his stuff back into his bag. “No worries.”

“Do you by chance have a knife on you?” He looks over his shoulder at me, raising his brow. “Just trust me. I’m not planning on shanking you or anything.”

Lawrence’s lips twitch up into an amused smile.

He digs into his bag, pulling out a pocket knife and handing it over.

I flip it open, turning to the tree beside me.

I carefully carve a few words into the bark.

I can hear Lawrence moving around, packing up all our shit but I ignore him, wanting to get this right.

“There,” I breathe out, pushing away all the loose bark and shavings out of the way.

Keep Going.

I look up, watching Lawrence read what I’ve written. A whirlwind of emotions play across his face before his blue eyes move back to me. Our eyes meet and my head swims, unable to focus on anything other than how much I want him.

“Devin,” he breathes out, something snapping in both of us at the same time, an unspoken understanding. This might not last, but for now, just maybe we can enjoy the time we have together because life is actually precious and too fucking short.

Lawrence reaches for me and I’m about to get to my feet and throw my arms around him, embracing him instead of pushing him away. Only, the sound of rolling thunder makes us both freeze. A few moments pass before the sound of rain hits our ears.

“Fuck,” Lawrence hisses out, putting his bag onto his back. “Can I carry you back? It’ll be faster.”

“Fine. But no funny business.”

“Scout’s honor,” he says with a smirk. I suck in a sharp breath as I’m lifted into the air. Just like that first night Lawrence found me, I wrap myself around his front before he’s running through the forest towards our house. Towards our home.

Could it? Could it actually be my home? It’s probably best I nip this hope in the bud. It’s better to prepare myself for the inevitable time when I find myself leaving all of this behind to wander once more.

“Shit, that’s cold,” I hiss out as the rain starts to hit us. There’s a flash of lightning before thunder booms around us. Is this mother’s nature way of telling me my little epiphany about living was fucked up and I should stay in my lane?

Before I know it, Lawrence is walking into the house I’ve claimed for myself. He sets me down onto my feet. We’re both completely soaked, dripping onto the floor just inside the door. Our eyes meet and I find myself completely frozen, my breath catching in my chest.

“Well,” Lawrence whispers, his eyes never leaving mine, like he’s trying to find something in them. “I should go.”

Without thinking, I reach out and take his wrist. “Wait.”

“Yeah?”

I take a step forward until we’re practically chest to chest. “You should stay.”

“Why?”

My eyes dart between his. My heart is in my throat. Everything inside of me is screaming that this is fucking stupid. I should push him back through the door. I should send him packing to his house. I should get the fuck out of Dodge and never look back before he can hurt me.

I do none of those things.

I lean down and kiss him.

My eyes close as our lips touch. It’s a barely there kiss, the briefest touch of wet lips against each other.

Water drips down our faces and I shiver from the cold, but none of that matters.

All that matters is that we’re kissing and it feels so right, so fucking good. My mind goes blissfully blank.

This is living.

This is real.

No virus can take this away.

I pull back, watching as Lawrence’s eyes flutter. He reaches up, touching his own lips like he can’t believe this is really happening. I wait until his pretty blue eyes meet mine once more.

“That’s why,” I whisper, just barely loud enough for him to hear.

A moment passes and I’m preparing myself for rejection.

Instead, Lawrence wraps his hands around the back of my neck, pulling me into another kiss, this one far fiercer than the first. He kisses me like he’s drowning and I’m the only thing keeping his head above water.

He kisses with the same desperation I feel clawing inside my chest.