CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
SARAH
I spend the whole morning reading while Michael’s off hunting dinner, and James is out keeping an eye on the camp.
None of us slept last night. We were running on pure adrenaline after Frank’s group stormed the fire station.
We walked all night, putting as much distance between us and Denver as possible.
We took the same route James used to get people out of the city—through a dead suburb where the houses were painted in different colors and every one of them had shattered windows.
It screamed that Tyler had already swept through, and worse, that whoever had been inside probably didn’t make it out.
We didn’t stop until we reached a hill covered in trees. From here, the city skyline looks as distant as the mountains beyond it. It’s the same spot Michael told Alicia we’d be waiting for her before heading north. Hard to believe that was just yesterday afternoon.
The familiar rhythm of an axe hitting wood pulls me from my thoughts. I step out of the tent and find James just a few feet away, shirtless, the sunlight kissing his skin.
My eyes drink him in. It should be illegal to look that good all the time.
His pine scent fills the air, messing with my head, and suddenly I feel way too warm.
Sweat drips down his bare chest, every muscle flexing as he swings the axe. There’s something raw about it. Powerful. Like he’s taming the wild with his bare hands.
And trust me, there’s nothing sexier than watching your man go full survival mode.
James has been quiet since the fire station. Part of it is because of what happened. Part of it is because we had the worst-timed argument in history.
He crammed me into a cabinet under the kitchen island and made me stay hidden. After that, he and Michael lost their weapons, and Alicia ended up as a hostage. I couldn’t see anything, but I heard everything.
And there was no way in hell I was going to sit there and lose them.
I wasn’t even scared to stab Frank’s hand because James was there. And this time, I didn’t faint when he shot the man in the head. We haven’t talked about that either.
It was the first time I saw James kill someone. The first time I saw that darkness in his eyes. The same look people say Outsiders have when they kill. Only this time, it was James.
“Sarah, what are you doing?”
James’s voice comes out rough, not sweet. Doesn’t bother me one bit. In fact, I love it when he’s pissed. That’s when I get the best of his touch.
I grin. “Admiring the view.”
“Now’s not the time, Sarah. I don’t have the energy for this today.”
Oh, James, need a mirror? Because you couldn’t be hotter.
“From where I stand, you seem to have plenty of energy to spare.”
He stares me down, but I don’t back off.
“Are you still mad at me?” I ask, hands on my hips.
“Mad doesn’t quite cover it.”
I raise an eyebrow. “For saving your life? You ungrateful man!”
“Stubborn woman!”
Stubborn is my middle name. He should know that by now.
“Thank you,” I reply, all sugar. Because that is definitely a compliment.
James narrows his eyes at me, then turns back and splits another log with the axe. His abs tighten with the motion, and another wave of heat rolls through me.
“The risks you took,” he says, swinging the axe again, his focus on his work. “You put your fucking life on the line for me. After I’ve told you a hundred times not to.”
Oh, here we go.
“This again?”
“Yes!”
I throw my hands up. “Fine! Until you change that attitude, you can sleep outside the tent.”
That gets his attention. He turns to me, fury stamped across his face, his fingers clenching around the handle.
“I’m not an Outsider, James. And yeah, maybe I’m not the type to kill for some random person in trouble like you do. Hell, I wouldn’t even do it to save myself. But for you? I’d do it without thinking twice.”
It’s the first time I’ve actually said that out loud. But the truth? I’ve known it for a while.
I’d do anything for him. Anything to keep him from being hurt again. No more scars. No more loss.
James hasn’t told me everything about his past. He probably never will. I get that. But I don’t need the full story to know he’s survived things most people couldn’t. And as long as I’m breathing, as long as I can fight for him, I’m not letting the world hurt him again.
I lift my chin, locking eyes with him, not backing down an inch. “You need to understand something, James. I will always save you. No matter what it costs me. No matter how hard it is. Because without you by my side, I’m not taking another step in this world. So you better get used to that.”
James doesn’t move. He’s a stone, except for that muscle ticking in his jaw.
One heartbeat. Two. Three. Four.
“Hey, James?”
With one powerful swing, he slams the axe into the log. “What?” His knuckles crack as he flexes his fingers.
“Did I strike a nerve?”
Four long strides. That’s all it takes, and he’s on me, grabbing my waist and yanking me against him.
“James, what are you doing?” I jab a finger into his chest—his stupid, shirtless, ridiculously muscular chest.
“I’m tired of hearing how much you love me. I’m gonna fucking show you how much I love you.”
He crashes his lips against mine, taking my mouth like he owns it. And every nerve in my body sparks to life.
Some men give their girls flowers. My man gives me fire.
He scoops me up by the thighs like I weigh nothing. I wrap my arms around his neck, grounding myself to him, and lock my legs around his waist.
He kicks the tent flap open and carries me inside, dropping to his knees as he sets me down on our sleeping bags. I pushed them together this morning, our pillows already tangled.
His hands move to my skirt, covered in tiny butterflies, fingers curling around the waistband. I stop him with a hand on his wrist.
“James, if you tear that skirt, I’ll make sure you suffer for it.”
This isn’t just any skirt. It’s what I wore the night we lost Dad’s ranch. It’s a reminder of home. And it’s off-limits to his usual brand of reckless destruction.
His eyes flick up to mine, amusement dancing in them, but he doesn’t tug the skirt. He knows I’m serious this time.
“This skirt? Never,” he promises, winking. “But I can’t say the same about the shirt.”
Before I can protest, he grabs the hem of my shirt and rips it straight down the middle.
“That was my last clean shirt!” I half-scold, half-laugh.
His lips curve into a wicked smile. “Guess you’ll just have to stay naked.”
“Funny how you never rip your flannel shirt, huh?”
“Because that shirt’s mine. And everything inside it? Mine too.”
His fingers work fast, undoing the buttons on my skirt and sliding it down my legs, leaving me in nothing but lingerie.
His gaze darkens the second he sees it.
“Green lace?”
I knew he’d notice.
“I found it in that department store when you weren’t looking.”
“Jesus, Sarah.” His voice is almost a growl. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
The first time he told me green was his favorite color, we were curled up together in an abandoned library, his fingers tracing patterns on my skin.
“Take off your bra,” he commands.
Fuck. That tone. That fucking deep tone.
I bite my lip, feeling the heat of his demand curl low in my stomach. Without breaking eye contact, I reach behind me, unhook the clasp, and let the straps slip off my shoulders.
Then I toss the bra at his chest.
James catches the bra, smirking.
“Still mad, baby?” he asks, rubbing the lace between his fingers.
“Yes. And you?”
His nostrils flare, and he drops the bra to the side. “Oh, you have no idea.”
My breath hitches.
“Hands above your head.”
I frown, confused. “What?”
A second later, I hear leather sliding through denim, and then he rips his belt free. My eyes snap to his, and what I see there is all power, all want.
“You’ve been testing me for a long time, Sarah,” he says, his tone dark and dangerous. “It’s time I tied you up.”
A bolt of arousal shoots through me, and I almost come right there.
We’ve always joked about him tying me up, ever since the lake house when I was stuck in bed with my busted ankle. But honestly? That whole thing did something to me. The idea of giving him total control… yeah, it was hot. Way hotter than I ever admitted out loud.
Without a word, I lift my hands above my head. He leans over me, his body a wall of heat. He binds my wrists together, tight but careful, making sure not to hurt me. Then he takes the end of the belt and ties it to the tent pole behind my head.
I twist my wrists against the restraint, but it holds firm.
I thought I’d be nervous, but all I feel is want.
Fingers hook into my panties, and with one quick pull, he yanks them down my thighs like they’re nothing but an obstacle.
His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he stares down at me, completely naked, tied up, laid out just for him. His eyes burn into mine, and I feel them like a physical touch. Hot, heavy, impossible to ignore.
His eyes drop between my legs, and he smirks, pure sin.
“Look at you. So wet, and I haven’t even touched your pussy yet.”
I never say things like that, but I love it when he does.
He moves over me, his big body pressing into mine, breath hot against my skin. His bare chest slides against my breasts, nothing between us. A soft, needy whimper slips from my throat.
Why the fuck did I let him tie me up? I need my hands on him now!
James’s mouth curves into a knowing smile, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“Mine,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my throat.
So close, but still not touching. “Mine to do whatever I want.” His mouth trails lower.
“Mine to lick.” His tongue teases my collarbone.
“Mine to bite.” His teeth graze my breast, sending a spark of pleasure straight to my clit.
“Mine to touch.” His thumb circles my nipple, and it hardens under his touch.
“Mine to taste.” His mouth closes around my breast, sucking deep.
Holy fucking hell.
My body jolts as a moan spills from my lips.