CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
SARAH
Sometimes, dreams feel real, just like nightmares.
I fainted. Not a cute little swoon—nope, a full-on, legs-gave-out, world-went-black collapse. And yeah, it was out of fear. So dramatic, even for me.
Michael scooped me up and carried me all the way back to our hideout.
God, how much more does he have to do to protect me?
I stare at my reflection in the full-wall mirror. My fingers move quickly, twisting my hair into the same two long braids I wear every day. The ritual is simple, same braids, same hands, same me. It helps.
The room’s been quiet for a while. I don’t even notice James slip in until I catch his reflection in the mirror in front of me. He’s sitting on the edge of the couch, just watching me.
When I woke up from my pathetic, irresponsible damsel-in-distress moment, he was pacing the room like a caged animal. Back and forth, back and forth. I couldn’t tell if he was worried, pissed, or just trying not to lose it.
I glance at him over my shoulder. “Outsider, what are you staring at?”
“You,” he says, his voice soft. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”
Heat creeps up my neck, and I turn back to the mirror, smiling. “I have my moments.”
He stands and walks to me, closing the space between us. My heart beats a little faster with every step he takes. His free arm wraps around my waist, and he pulls me into his chest. We’re eye to eye in the mirror.
“You have all the moments, little danger.”
We stay like that, just looking at each other in the mirror. We don’t talk about Alicia, or the man she shot. Michael must’ve told him why I fainted, but James hasn’t said a word about it since I woke up. We had dinner in silence, but his eyes never left me. Not once.
I saw my first death. And I wasn’t ready for it.
I’ve got so many questions, but I’m scared of the answers. Scared of this world. A world I don’t understand, but James does. He’s lived it, fought through it, survived it. And maybe… maybe it’s time I understand it too.
“Alicia’s an Outsider. She has a group of her own. Did you have a group too, back in Texas?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says, eyes locked on my reflection in the mirror. “People I helped. People with nowhere to go, no family left. People who lost everything. They became Outsiders too. The bloodiest ones I’ve ever known.”
“Where are they now?”
“Over the years, some went their own way. Some built families.” His grip tightens around me, as if he’s making sure I won’t slip away after hearing his next words. “But most of them… they died fighting.”
Died.
Outsiders die trying to save people. James almost died too.
He never told me anything. I just know it’s true. His scars say it all.
But he once told me his scars brought him here. To me. And now I get it. He’s the one who’s going to teach me how to survive in this world.
I take a breath, pushing away the heaviness in the air. Enough questions for tonight. I just want to feel him close.
“Can you help me with these buttons?” I ask, nodding toward the stubborn, half-buttoned shirt hanging loosely on my body.
I’m wearing one of James’s oversized flannels. I started sleeping in it on a whim, and now it’s a habit, like wrapping myself in a piece of him. Even after being washed a hundred times, it still smells like him.
The red fabric swallows me up, brushing against my bare thighs, almost like a dress. James loves it, and I love the way he looks at me when I wear it.
And sure enough, that’s the look I get now.
James flashes me one of his mischievous grins, and instead of buttoning me up, his fingers brush over the fabric and undo the top button.
Then the next.
And the next.
I raise a brow. “James, I thought the idea was to help me get dressed, not undressed.”
He shakes his head, unfazed, his eyes fixed on mine in the mirror.
“I don’t remember making any such promises.”
A rush of heat spreads through me.
His free hand moves slowly, fingertips barely grazing my ribs as he pulls the fabric open.
The flannel slips from my shoulders and hits the floor with a light rustle against my bare feet.
Cold night air rushes over my skin, and my nipples tighten beneath the delicate fabric of my bra.
But then his hand is back, grabbing my waist, and the heat floods back, deep in my core.
He’s staring at me in the mirror. His hungry gaze trails over my white lingerie, which suddenly doesn’t feel like it’s doing much to cover me.
His head tilts slightly. “You know what I see when I look at you?”
I shake my head, too breathless to speak.
“Spring,” he whispers against my neck, his warm breath sending tingles up my spine.
His lips brush my skin, leaving a soft kiss. “A Christmas tree.”
I smile, knowing exactly what he means. I make him happy; he told me once.
His hand slides from my waist, trailing up my back, making me arch against him. With one flick of his finger, my bra comes undone. The straps slip down my arms and join the flannel on the floor, leaving me staring at my bare-chested reflection in the mirror.
His eyes take me in every detail, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he adds, “A troublemaker.”
I giggle.
His gaze drifts down, from my breasts to between my thighs. Heat flashes in his eyes, and he wets his lips with a slow swipe of his tongue. He hooks a finger into the waistband of my panties, gives them a gentle tug, then leans in, his lips brushing my ear.
“An apple pie.”
His favorite food. And so am I.
With one pull, the fabric slips down my legs, and his fingers follow the same path, making my heart hammer against my ribs.
I should feel exposed now that I’m completely naked. But all I feel is… seen.
James isn’t just touching me. He’s touching my soul.
He’s telling me I’m everything to him. I’m powerful.
Then his mouth is on me, his lips and tongue leaving kisses up my thigh.
“A butterfly.”
He presses a kiss to the curve of my butt cheek.
“A lighthouse.”
He kisses up my back, over the scar I got in the parking lot. He pauses there, lips hovering over the mark.
“A goddess.”
My lips part, a light sigh escaping as I stand there, completely naked, completely his. His to see. His to touch. His to take.
His gaze meets mine in the mirror, holding me there. Exposed. Vulnerable. But not weak. No, under his gaze, I feel anything but weak.
I turn to face him, my fingers hooking into the fabric of his shirt. I want to give him back what he just gave me.
“And you know what I see when I look at you?” I ask, echoing his words.
His eyes flick down to my hands as one finger glides over the buttons of his blue flannel, popping them open one by one. His expression stays playful, but there’s a darker edge in his eyes now, something that burns hotter with every second.
My hands slide over his chest, pushing the fabric open and off his shoulders, his skin hot beneath my fingertips.
His shirt falls to the floor, showing hard muscle and skin marked with old scars.
My hands trace the lines of his bare chest, lingering on the bandage wrapped across his chest and over his left shoulder.
The skin around it is still bruised, shades of purple marking where he took the hit.
A reminder of what he’s willing to do for me.
“A fucking Viking!” I say, laughing.
James smirks.
I move my hands from his abs to his belt. I unbuckle it with ease, slide it free, and let it drop to the floor. Then one finger traces his zipper, slow as sin, until I slide it down. The denim loosens, sliding lower on his hips before falling to the floor too.
“A protector.”
My palm glides over the hard length of him through his boxers, and he lets out a deep groan that sends a pulse of anticipation through me.
“A shooting star.” Because somehow, he keeps making my dreams come true.
He keeps watching me as I hook a finger into the waistband of his boxers, dragging them down inch by inch until they hit the floor, leaving him completely bare for me.
My eyes drop to his cock, hard and already up, ready for me.
“A very big book.”
I wrap my hand around his cock, and my core clenches. It’s such a damn cliché, but he really does fit perfectly in my hand.
James throws his head back, his eyes fluttering shut as a low, rough moan rumbles in his chest.
James is so big that our first time hurt like hell. I couldn’t even stop the tears that slipped down my face. He kissed them away, gently and sweetly. And when I opened my eyes, I found myself drowning in the ocean of his eyes. Then the pain faded, and all that was left was pleasure.
“A chocolate.”
Sweet and addictive, exactly how he is.
My hands slide up again, tracing his chest until they stop over his deepest scar. I breathe in his familiar pine scent, then press a kiss to the mark just above his heart. “A home.”
He opens his eyes and flashes that breathtaking smile. That rare, beautiful smile that makes my chest ache.
His free hand covers mine over his heart.
And we kiss.
His tongue slides into my mouth slowly, delicately, savoring me like it’s the first time, and I do the same. Because what we just said to each other means more than those three little words. And we both know it.
He holds me close, his free arm wrapped around me, and we move together while the world spins around us.
I hear our footsteps on the cold floor. I hear the rain picking up again, hammering the roof of the fire station. I hear the faint crackle of candle flames flickering in the room. But the only thing I feel is his kiss.
We don’t stop. We can’t stop. In this moment, we’re one.
I don’t know when my back hits the blankets of our makeshift bed, but I feel it when James pins me there, his body heavy on mine, his stare burning through me.
He bites my lower lip, and a soft moan slips out.
“A true goddess,” he murmurs against my skin, dragging his lips over my collarbone and down to the valley between my breasts.
I melt into him, and a growl rumbles from his chest as he watches me.
Then a smug smile stretches across his face. “You’re very lucky I’m a hero and saved your favorite book, Sarah Williams.”
My heart quickens, because I know what he means.
My eyes flick to the side, to the copy of The Secret Garden lying on the floor beside us, stacked on top of the five others. They’re the only ones that survived the lake house collapse, along with a few other things, his and mine.
He saved it for me. He nearly died for it.
Just like he saved my favorite skirt, the one with the tiny butterflies he loves taking off me.
James Hill might be the most dangerous man I know, but he’s also the sweetest.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Did you even read that book?”
“Why would I read a book when I’ve got you naked in my arms after the world’s ended?”
I let my mouth drop open dramatically. “Wait, the world ended? And nobody thought to tell me?”
James throws his head back, laughing.
His laughter still lingers in the air as I press my palms to his bare chest, soaking in the heat, the strength, the way his muscles tighten under my touch. My hands stay on his abs, just feeling him—solid, warm, mine.
My eyes linger on his hard dick, resting between my legs and pulsing with need.
God, it feels so good.
James’s lips quirk in a grin as his free hand slides down, fingers slipping between my legs, parting me. He grips my hip, his fingers sinking into my skin as he lines himself up, dragging the thick head of his cock over my slick entrance, making me squirm beneath him.
And… he pushes in.
A gasp tears from my throat as he sinks inside, inch by inch, stretching me.
James tilts his head, his breath ragged as he watches me, watches the way my body welcomes him until he’s so deep, so perfectly inside me that I don’t know where I end and he begins.
“Fuck,” he growls, pressing his forehead against mine, his breath hot. “You feel like heaven, Sarah.”
We don’t move at first. We can’t.
We just feel.
“The world could fall apart right now, burn to the ground, and I wouldn’t care… as long as I have you,” he says, his lips grazing my jaw.
“The world is already shattered.”
“Even better. That just leaves you and me.”
“James!”
Michael’s loud knock on the door yanks us out of our little world.
“And… Michael,” James adds with a sigh, making me giggle.
“It’s time for your watch!” Michael calls from the other side.
James shifts, his cock still buried deep inside me, hard, hot. And he doesn’t pull out. He just holds me there, breathing heavily.
“Give him ten minutes,” I say.
“Make that half an hour,” James corrects with a smirk.
I hear Michael curse under his breath, and I can’t help but laugh. The moment feels familiar, like déjà vu, like I’ve lived it before.
James catches it immediately.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
I raise a brow, playful. “Oh, so you read minds now?”
“Yep.”
“All right, then. What am I thinking?”
He runs a hand through his messy brown hair, but the strands just fall right back over his forehead, making him look too damn good.
With a knowing smile, he says, “Who would’ve thought Michael had such a strong punch?”
I laugh. “Oh my God, how did you know I was thinking about that?”
James takes one of my braids between his fingers, sliding down its length. But he doesn’t look away from my face. Not once.
“Because I know you by heart.”