Chapter 17
The next morning, Micah is on top of me as I wake up.
He’s sound asleep. I realize that immediately. It’s the only reason I’m not pissed about having a large man moving on top of me while I’m not awake to allow it.
He’s heavy and way too hot. His steady breath blows against my skin and ruffles my hair. He’s mostly on my right side, so my injured arm is free of weight. But I should be uncomfortable, and I am. I am. But not enough to want him to move.
I like the feel of him on top of me. Not because it’s particularly cozy but for what it signifies. The intimacy. The entitlement.
That I have someone who might accidentally roll on top of me as we sleep. That it’s allowed because we’re together.
Because he’s my man.
That line of thinking is not like me at all. Even back when I was with Jesse and believed in lasting relationships, I was never particularly sentimental or romantic.
So this is strange. Unexpected.
And kind of scary.
But not scary enough to make me push him off.
I shift slightly to see if I can get in a position where he isn’t stretching one of my boobs too far to the side. He mumbles and snuggles into me more persistently.
A soft chuckle ripples out of me without volition.
Micah mumbles something incoherent in his sleep.
I slowly raise my free hand to stroke his hair and his bare back. He’s a strong, competent man. He can be intimidating in certain circumstances. He kept a secret from me that he knew would matter. He did it to protect himself and not me. I shouldn’t trust him. I shouldn’t even like him.
But I do.
I like him. I trust him as much as I trust anyone alive. I want him here with me. In my bed.
He was completely vulnerable with me last night, and he’s still with me this morning.
I want him here.
I always want him here.
Maybe I should send him away, but I won’t.
“Kat,” he mumbles, his face tucked into the crook of my neck.
“Yes.”
“Y’okay?”
For some reason, the mumbled question constricts my chest. Squeezes my heart. “Of course I’m okay. I’m always fine, remember?”
“You’re way better than fine.” He’s mostly awake now, although he hasn’t lifted his head. “Thanks for last night. Sorry ’bout the breakdown.”
“I don’t care about the breakdown. You should have broken down a long time ago.”
He finally raises his head enough to peer down at me. “You’re not gonna run?”
“Why would I run?”
“’Cause it’s gettin’ heavy. Real. Thought you might run.”
“I’m home. I’ve got nowhere to run to.”
“Then I thought you might kick me out.” His expression is relaxed, almost teasing, but his eyes are still searching my face, trying to see into my soul.
I sigh and reach up to cup his jaw, feel his scratchy beard. “I’m not going to kick you out.”
“You’re not?”
He looks so hopeful it startles me, so I add quickly, “Not today anyway.”
He huffs out a laugh and leans down to kiss me gently. “Okay. I’ll take today.”
When he withdraws and starts to roll off me, something inside me resists. I grab him, pulling him down into another kiss.
This one is deeper, lasts longer. Micah is fully invested immediately, sliding his tongue into my mouth and shifting so he’s lying between my legs. After a minute, he’s hard against me, and we rock together to the rhythm of the kiss.
We haven’t had sex since I got shot. But my arm is only faintly itching right now, as long as I don’t stretch it too much. I leave it extended to the side so it doesn’t get in the way.
After a while, Micah kisses his way down my body until he’s nuzzling between my thighs. He brings me to orgasm with his lips and tongue. Then I pull him back up so we can kiss again, and together we align his cock at my entrance so he can slide in.
Our fucking starts slow and steady so we can continue the kiss. But soon he’s urgent. And his obvious need for me awakens the matching need in my own heart. Because this—what we’re doing right now—feels like more than physical pleasure.
It feels like the embodiment of one truth I simply can’t escape or deny.
We’re together. For real. All the way.
And that’s never not going to be true.
He’s choking out my name as he mounts toward climax, pushing into me with a fast, carnal motion. I’m getting close too—making soft little grunts as my pleasure builds again—but he falls out of rhythm before I get there.
I don’t care. I love how desperately he pulls out his cock and squeezes himself through several hard spurts of release, leaving the evidence all over my belly and breasts.
He’s too far gone to speak when he’s given all he has, but he doesn’t have to. I can see what he’s feeling all over his face.
He reaches between our bodies so he can fuck me with his fingers until I come too. Then he kisses me with a clumsy ardor, and I kiss him back.
Feeling just as much.
It’s several minutes before we’ve recovered. But I’ve cooled down and relaxed when Micah raises himself on his arms and smiles down at me. “As far as I’m concerned, we can start every day like that for the rest of our lives.”
His light, lilting claim is another thing that should scare me but doesn’t. “Every day? You know I sometimes wake up in a bad mood, right?”
“But that’s what I’m here for. To get you out of all your bad moods.”
I giggle and stroke his beard lightly. “You are pretty good at that.”
“I’m good at a lot of things.”
“Yeah, you are.” If I don’t get out of this tender mood soon, there’s no telling what I might accidentally say. With a sigh, I give his shoulder a little push. “But now it’s time for you to get off me. I need to pee.”
Tomorrow we’ll have to go back into Cleverly, but I’m feeling cooped up after having not left the campsite for an entire week, so I suggest we go south to that unlooted township to do some scavenging today.
He doesn’t want me to have to walk that far—three hours there and back—when I’m not fully healed yet.
And I can tell he’s going to dig in his heels about it until I mention we have the motorcycle we took off the guy who shot me.
We can ride it instead of hiking, and we can bring a siphon pump to top off the tank with the gasoline I’m sure is still remaining at the old station.
This plan is agreeable to all but Molly. We have to leave her behind since she’ll slow us down and overexert herself trying to keep up.
She knows what it means when I point toward the camper as Micah gets astride the seat of the motorcycle.
She flops down on the dirt with a huff and watches mournfully as I climb on behind Micah.
“I’m sorry, girl,” I tell her. “We won’t be too long. You protect the premises while we’re gone.”
She gives a couple of half-hearted swipes of her tail, which I take for assent. Then Micah and I drive off.
A distance that takes me three hours to hike takes us less than an hour to drive.
We can’t go very fast because of the condition of the trail, but it’s a lot easier and faster than walking.
The first thing we do when we reach the abandoned township is to check the underground tanks for gas.
Micah pries off the lid to one, and we’re rewarded to discover it’s more than halfway filled still.
We’ll be able to keep using this motorcycle as long as the gasoline in those tanks remain.
We fuel up the motorcycle and then break into one of the nearby houses. It’s really more of a shack. It wasn’t in good condition even before Impact.
But inside is a windfall. There’s still a lot of canned food in the kitchen cabinets, blankets, sheets, and towels in the hall closet, and both men and women’s clothes in the one bedroom.
The women’s clothes are even close to my size. There are three pairs of jeans that are just a little loose, a couple of dresses, and a lot of T-shirts and underwear, including a sports bra that almost looks new.
I feel like a kid on Christmas morning, gathering up one item after another and grinning in excitement with each new treasure.
Micah has an armful of jeans, sweats, and flannel shirts. His feet are too big for the men’s shoes, but the women’s shoes fit me fine. We find a box of big black garbage bags and fill them up with our hoard.
It’s too much to carry everything back with us on the motorcycle, so we stow a couple of bags away in the cave and find ways to hold on to the rest.
It’s not exactly a safe way to travel, but we manage it by going even slower than we did on the way there.
I’m as happy as I’ve been in years when we get home, greet a waiting Molly, and unload our loot.
We’ve got a whole stack of new towels to replace the bloodied ones, and two new sheet sets that will fit the bed with some extra tucking. The thick comforter is in one of the bags we hid back in the township, but we won’t need that until winter.
Between the clothes, the bedding, the towels, and all the canned food, it feels like we’re able to refurbish the entire camper. Even Molly is panting happily, sticking at our heels as we unpack and find places to stow our findings.
We eat a quick lunch of sandwiches and carrots and then decide to wash up in the creek since the afternoon is so hot.
We take turns since it’s a lot safer to have someone on guard than both of us being wet and vulnerable at the same time. But I don’t make Micah turn his back as I soak, scrub up, and wash my hair. And I don’t turn my back when he does the same.
He gets turned on, so when we’re back in the camper, we have sex in bed and lounge around together afterward.
Then we make dinner and sit around the firepit talking. Molly begs for our ham and potatoes, and we sing old pop songs together afterward.
It’s a really good day.
The best one I can remember.