Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
Iwake with a jolt, my heart hammering against my ribs.
The nightmare still clings to me, like the cold sweat that slicks my skin.
But this wasn’t the dream that normally poisons my sleep.
There were still blood, bones, and dust. There was still Logan’s sick, joyful laughter.
But the blood was Naomi’s. The dust wasn’t Middle Eastern but Mexican.
I turn to her desperately, finding her sleeping peacefully in just her panties, given the heat.
We were able to buy clothes a few towns over, along with a few other necessities.
It’s been a few days since Static contacted us, and we’ve tried to make ourselves comfortable.
And Naomi has been right about the wait.
It hasn’t been frustrating. It’s been heaven.
I roll over, watching Naomi's chest rise and fall with each breath. Her dark hair fans across the pillow, though now we’ve been on the run long enough that her blond roots are starting to show.
In the soft morning light filtering through our shabby curtains, she looks ethereal.
These past few days have been stolen time—watching sunrises paint the sky in watercolor hues, sunsets that paint in deep oranges and purple, swimming in the cool embrace of the ocean, cooking together in our tiny kitchen.
I should feel guiltier than I do. We're not on vacation. But I can't bring myself to regret a single second.
Every smile she gives me, every touch, every kiss—I drink it all in like a man who will soon be exiled from paradise.
My gaze travels down to her chest that rises and falls with her breathing. Her bare nipples make my mouth water, and I can see the rim on each bud surrounded in salty sweat like a tequila shot.
I kiss her neck, not trying to wake her but completely unable to stop myself.
She moans a little. I kiss her collarbone, a place I’ve learned is one of her favorites.
She moans more. I work my way down. Each kiss elicits a different note.
The top of her breast. Her left nipple. Her right.
I trail down her stomach. I play her like an instrument because over these past few days, I’ve learned her music.
I studied her body like a map. But unlike in war, in love, knowing the terrain like the back of your hand still won’t protect you.
You’re always at risk of falling.
And I have fallen. And it is love. I’ve only known her for a short time. A silly, stupid, insignificant amount of time. And what do I know about love?
Only that I’m in it with her.
I slowly remove her panties. More moaning from her in a different key. Expectant. Hopeful. Half awake but still half in a dream.
Her pussy glistens in the low light. She’s already wet from my lips traveling down her body. I kiss her pussy gently. And then I lick. Her hands grip the bedsheets, and she arches her back. She seems awake now. Needy.
So I’m not going to go easy on her. I begin lapping and sucking her clit. Slow at first, then gaining speed. “Walker,” she rasps out, a pleading sound but gilded with pleasure.
The sound makes my already hard dick even harder and encourages me to push her further to the edge.
I fuck her with my tongue now. Hard, insistent, her hands move from the bedsheets to my hair, pulling and twisting as she comes undone.
She cries out, and her body shudders. I look up and see her biting her bottom lip.
She looks down at me with a serene, spent smile on her face.
“I need you inside me,” she whispers. I may not have been raised properly, but I know it’s not polite to keep a lady waiting.
I quickly pull my briefs down and release my throbbing dick.
I slip inside her. Big as I am and as deliciously tight as she is, I slide in easily because of how wet I’ve made her.
I thrust into her harder, faster, pushing myself to the hilt every time. Naomi cries out, spreading her legs wider for me as I fall forward and kiss her neck. One hand snakes around her body to pull her to me, and the other paws her breasts roughly.
“Come for me again, baby,” I growl in her ear.
“I can’t, Walker,” she pleads. My name was never uttered so desperately.
But she’s wrong. I know she can. She will. I’m so close to the edge. Her perfect pussy is milking me, pulling me closer to the edge like a siren. But this is where my discipline matters. I will not come until she does.
“You're so close, baby. Come,” I order, inches from her ear, and that does it. She cries out again, her nails digging into my back. The pulsing and fluttering around my dick finally pull me over the edge. My orgasm crescendos along with hers, and I spill into her.
Several more thrusts, slowing each time, and then I stop. I look down at her. She looks up at me. And we just breathe together.
The stare between us feels infinite, and it takes all of that tremendous discipline I possess not to add words to the breath I drop on her like rain.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
She looks as serious as I feel. Like she wants to tell me something important, too. But then her face morphs into something wry, a half smile on her pretty lips. “That’s a nice way to wake up.”
I smile. And kiss her. She’s not wrong. But it doesn’t feel like we’ve woken up. This all still feels like a dream.
It still feels that way as I watch her patter around the kitchen. She’s in just my T-shirt again, cooking us an early breakfast. Her bare legs seem to go on forever, muscles shifting beneath smooth skin as she shifts from foot to foot.
We were pretending to be husband and wife while we were on the run.
And there are so many moments like this one, when I can believe it’s real. Not temporary or pretend.
Naomi sings some nonsense tune as she stirs onions in a pan, the smell and sounds filling the bungalow.
“A little early for onion,” I say, sipping my coffee.
She turns over her shoulder to look at me. “Onion breath might be the only thing to keep you off me for a few minutes.”
I shake my head, grinning. “Not going to work.”
She laughs and goes back to cooking. It wouldn’t. Nothing would keep me away from Naomi. In the outside world, I’m too old for her. Too broken. But here I’ve stopped caring. I’ve never wanted anything in my life as badly as I’ve wanted her.
I want this. Forever.
Which means I need to bring something up to her. She can’t see it, but my face falls.
“The plan can’t work.”
For a second, I don’t think she hears me. The only indication that she has is that she stops stirring for a moment. She turns and looks at me. “What do you mean?”
I take a moment. I rolled around what to say in my head for days, in the gaps between visits to heaven.
I’m careful when I say, “When the plan was to expose them to the authorities, it had a chance. I had my doubts, but I thought it was possible. If our plan involves getting people to pay attention and care…” I shake my head. “It’s not going to happen.”
She folds her arms, not looking convinced or cowed. “Let’s say that’s true. What do you suggest we do?”
“We keep moving. I can make it so they can never find us. I can protect you.”
Naomi is already shaking her head before I’m halfway through the sentence.
“Walker, I have a life in Virginia. My friends are there. My mother is there. I’m sure she’s worried sick, and it’s taken everything in me not to try to send her a message telling her I’m okay.
But I can handle that because this will end. ”
“This will never end, Naomi. Those people don’t give up. They don’t stop. And they always win because they don’t care about playing by the rules.”
“Well, I’d say we’re doing pretty well.”
“We are. Here. Hiding. They were willing to throw you away. Bury you. Kill me. But you think that evidence will result in prosecutions? You think the elements within the government are going to let that happen? That’s naive, Naomi.”
Her face looks like I struck her, and I immediately regret my words. But she has to know what we’re up against. She has to understand.
“Look, I’m sorry, I just mean—”
“So we just stay hidden forever? We run forever?” Her voice rises as her eyes narrow.
"If that's what it takes to keep you safe." My voice is low and calm. But inside, I’m anything but.
“I think you’re afraid.”
Now I’m sure I look like she struck me. “Afraid?”
“Yeah. Afraid. Because what happens if we are able to pull this off? The bad people go to jail, and that place gets shut down, and I go back to my life. Are you coming with me?”
I make several failed attempts to speak. I’ve never thought about it. Is she asking me? “I don’t—”
“I don’t know what this is. What we are.
But if we do win, it means you can’t go off into the woods and punish yourself like you’ve been doing.
It means you have to see the good you’ve done and live around people and society again.
It’s all imperfect, Walker. It’s easy to be cynical. It’s hard to hope.”
I shake my head. She’s wrong. Isn’t she? “I just don’t know if I can protect you from them.”
“Maybe you can’t. But I’m not willing to live like you were when I found you. I’m not willing to give up.”
Silence except for the sizzle of the onions now burning.
Her eyes have that cold fire again. Like they did when I first met her. These past few days felt like a dream because they were. Not real. A fantasy.
This was never something that could work.
And it’s time to wake up.
But again, I feel the pull to tell her the words. They would solve nothing. Change nothing about the reality of our situation.
And still, they threaten to pour from my lips.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.