Page 57

They’ve found a log cabin somewhere north of the mountain. There are solar panels on the roof and a little creek out back, perfect for washing up. After disposing of the three occupants, one flick of the light switch tells them they’ve struck gold.

It’s the first time they’ve seen electricity since leaving for this trip, but Wade is having a hard time focusing on that when all he can think of is what happened on that cliff.

Kara kissed him. One moment, they were facing what felt like certain death, and then her soft lips nestled against his, right where they belong.

He hasn’t kissed anyone in as long as he can remember.

That was painfully obvious when he became so over-eager that any hope of being skilled was quickly out of reach.

He kissed her like a dying man searching for the promise of a last breath.

Messy and tangled and without a hint of coordination.

Pretty sure he hurt her at least once when he sucked on her lip too hard. He needs to be more careful next time.

Wade’s half worried that he’ll blink too fast and she’ll be gone, having only given him a taste of what he truly wants. That’s the thing about finally getting something he’s always dreamed of, his brain isn’t sure yet how to accept that it’s real.

She’s been watching him just as warily, as if she’s not sure where they go from here and fuck, if he isn’t stuck in the same damn question. In the heat of the moment, he ran on instinct. Now that they’re not in an adrenaline-fueled lip lock, things have simmered down.

He wants to kiss her again, but that doesn’t feel simple anymore. Doesn’t know how to make that leap from what they’ve been for so long into something else. That’s not even taking into account that the idea of intimate contact is now tainted by his time in captivity.

Admitting the obvious is harder than he thought it could be. He should tell her he’s clueless, so she doesn’t assume it’s disinterest. He’s no longer the man she knew before the world tore them apart. His confidence is gone, and it took any swagger and skill he had with it.

The elated laugh she gave in the car and the snug handhold they shared for several miles seems far in the past now.

Awkwardness has crept up between them, festering and spreading, reminding him he’s no one’s boyfriend…

significant other…lover. Not anymore. Maybe never again.

What if he’s lost the ability to be what she needs?

The version of himself she thought she was looking for all these years would have had her pinned up against the wall, clinging to his cock and moaning his name by now.

Would have had her trembling and weak and seeing nothing but stars.

Or maybe he is only kidding himself that any version of him could have made this leap with her so easily when they have so much history between them.

Perhaps she’s changed her mind, he thinks sadly, watching her check the kitchen cupboards one by one in this house that would have cost double his lifetime earnings before the turn, sliding him cautious glances in between pulling out various supplies.

He’s all the way across the room, poking at the fireplace for no fucking reason. Too busy manifesting imaginary scenarios where they either end up in that giant bed down the hall or he ruins any chance he ever had, and their friendship along with it.

“We got lucky with this place,” Kara says, spreading out ingredients on a counter.

“Yep. Yeah. We did.”

They can’t even talk, he thinks with a mental wince. They’re filling the silence with random, useless words. Then, she saves him like always by offering something to take their mind off the glaring situation at hand.

“Wanna bake something with me? We’ve got stuff for muffins.”

No. I don’t want to bake muffins. I want to carry you into that bedroom and strip you naked.

“Sure.” Is what he says instead, and they proceed with the torturous dance of ignoring what so badly needs to be addressed.

They’ve admitted such difficult truths already on that mountain. Now, something that should be simple has turned into another battle.

“Someone had to be making these supplies. Trading them.” She dumps a cup of flour into a bowl with a flourish. “Wouldn’t have lasted this long.”

“Do you think there’s another group close by?”

She flips open the pages of a cookbook found in a drawer. “I do, but I’m too hungry to worry about that right now. Those rotters weren’t fresh. If someone was coming to look for them, they’d have been here already.”

The very thought of another group sets him on edge. For now, they’re as safe as they can get, and there’s no reason not to make good use of all this power.

Suddenly, she looks up at him through long lashes, like his reply to her next question could reach into her chest and ruin her. “Are we okay?”

“Of course we are.” He’s done it now. Made her second-guess herself, him, them with his own shifty behavior.

“Okay.”

She’s unconvinced and he can’t blame her. He can’t figure out how to go from a first kiss to more after spending half his life convincing himself they could never be more than friends.

Kara begins stirring the mixture he hasn’t helped with one bit. In an attempt to do something, anything, he dips a hand into the bag of flour, grabs a pinch between his fingers and flings it directly at her.

She pauses, face blank and speckled with powder. For a moment he’s worried he fucked up even further by trying to make her laugh when they’re too far gone for that, but then her eyes flare with mischief and he’s treated with retaliation.

“Oh, it’s on now.” She grins brightly.

“Is it? I dunno, I don’t think you—”

The flour spills out across the counter and he gets a face full of it a second later, effectively cutting off his playful taunt.

They waste perfectly good supplies tossing them at each other like children.

He has no regrets. He’ll dump the entire bag on himself if that’s what it takes to keep her smiling.

She likes to play, too, which is something he never really considered about her.

She’s a serious person most of the time, or so he thought.

It’s moments like this that remind him of the teasing banter they shared back when they were younger, how easily she’d light up at the chance to poke and laugh, especially at his expense.

Somewhere along the way, they both lost the ability to embrace fun , and for good reason.

Lately, she’s all about following him into a game.

Likes to be chased more than anything. That’s abundantly clear when she darts around the kitchen to escape him and shrieks with joy when he follows.

It isn’t the first time they’ve done this, but he enjoys it just as much as he did back in that fancy kitchen of the second community she took him to.

Has anyone else gotten to see this side of her? Has she kept it all hidden just for him?

He grabs her around the waist and claims victory.

His lips find the curve of her neck, dropping a kiss there before his courage fades.

What he doesn’t expect is the ridiculous snort that escapes her when he gets a mouthful of flour off her skin and starts coughing it over her shoulder into a puffing cloud.

“Are you okay?” she laughs, her stomach contracting in fits and starts where his arms hold her snug. “Don’t inhale.”

“I’ll live.”

They’re a total mess. If anyone saw them now, they’d assume they were snorting lethal levels of cocaine and leaving the evidence all over themselves.

His mouth feels like sandpaper, but it’s worth it when she leans back against him with a sigh, wrapping her arms over his to keep him in place.

He’s ready to stay just like this for however long she’ll let him.

Then it gets even better when she turns in his hold, wiping white powder off his lips with a careful thumb.

“Wade? Kiss me again?”

It’s the best request he’s ever heard in his whole life, delivered in the most gentle whisper that urges him forward.

He goes slow this time, maintaining the control he lost before.

There’s only a chaste hint of pressure at first, just enough to feel her, but he’s not prepared for the dryness of leftover flour.

It threatens to turn a second kiss into another coughing fit before she expertly swipes a warm tongue along the seam of his lips, clearing the way. Then everything is simple again.

Each raw gasp she offers when her body arches up asking for more, nearly convinces him he could be good at this again.

She’s built him up so easily that it’s perfectly natural to lift her onto the counter with two hands gripping that tight ass.

The way she spreads her legs for him quickly to step in between has his cock hardening at light speed.

He’s tempted to shove everything within range onto the floor so he can lay her back against the cool granite instead.

Then the oven goes off, signaling it’s hot enough for the muffin mix.

She groans, rolling her forehead against his before dipping a finger into the batter behind her. That playfulness is gone now, replaced with a hooded gaze that turns expectant and heated while a tapered finger offers him a taste.

“Hungry?” she says, her tone smothered with innuendo.

Is he ever.

Quickly, he engulfs the digit down to the second knuckle and swirls his tongue on the way back up, hoping she’ll understand that he’s more than willing to put it to good use in other, more exciting places.

He has had plenty of time to imagine exactly what he’ll do to her if ever given the chance, and he intends to bring those fantasies to life soon.

Forgetting the muffins sounds like the only option right now, but the oven beeps again in the most obnoxious way and she dips her head in defeat. “Food first?”

“Food first.”

He just hopes they’re on the same page about what happens next.

* * *