Chapter 5 #2
He had to hand it to the anonymous prepper.
The guy—and Cam had no doubt it was a guy now—had been a dreamer.
Even Jason Momoa couldn’t rationally expect to get that much play in the wake of an apocalypse, especially in the five or so years it would take for the latex to expire.
Was the guy planning to amass a harem down here? In two bedrooms?
Damn it, Cam. You’re staring at the box of condoms. Just grab the water.
When he turned back to Allie, water bottle in hand, he caught her mid-stretch, arms up, breasts pressed against her T-shirt where the robe had slid down.
His libido, which had apparently been lying in wait, jumped to attention. He did his best to ignore it, opening the water and taking a long drink. Then he held the bottle out to Allie.
“Thanks,” she murmured before taking a drink.
Cam watched the movement of her throat under her smooth, pale skin. Suddenly, his mouth felt as dry as the Sahara again. His morning wood, having reached problematic proportions, nudged against his sweatpants.
She recapped the water and handed it back. “How did you sleep?”
“Good. No, amazing.”
“Me too,” she said, sounding bemused and surprised. “No dreams, prophetic or otherwise.”
“I hate to say I told you so, but...” He gestured between them.
One corner of her mouth kicked up. “Why am I now certain that you love saying ‘I told you so’?”
“You got me.” It was his turn to stretch, although he very deliberately did not turn over onto his back. “Told you we’d sleep better this way.”
“Are you hungry?” Allie asked, although she made no move to sit up. “I could make us breakfast. Some coffee.”
Food sounded great, but the thought of hot coffee made him salivate.
“Definitely. And I can help.” He reached out to her, moving slowly, and laid his hand over hers where it rested on the bed.
He couldn’t help it. Not touching her, even in the smallest way, seemed unnatural now.
“I’m going to pull my weight in this underground miracle fortress, Allie. That’s a promise.”
The undefinable emotions that surged through him, some cocktail of attraction and gratitude and comradeship, were driving, pushing him to prove himself to her, to give back something to this lovely woman.
Unable to figure out any way to express that without sounding like a crazy person, he settled for adding, “I don’t want you to regret bringing me here.
” The words came out gruffer, more determined, than he’d meant them to.
She turned her hand to clasp his, palm to palm, across the expanse of sheet between them. “How could I regret that?”
Her smile quivered at the edges, and the urge to cross the empty inches between them and kiss that trembling mouth rose up strong.
Don’t. It wasn’t Sergeant Lee or Key but some nebulous better self talking to him now.
Staying platonic is the right thing for her.
You both broke down yesterday. You need time to rest and recover, not to fuck each other into some new emotional crisis.
This isn’t a cozy couples’ retreat. It’s more of a hostage situation, thanks to the Zs.
Cam knew it, even if his libido didn’t. When he went to the bathroom, he could take care of himself and try to keep any further such reactions at bay.
He needed to forget the condoms that were right there.
Forget the way her skin felt like raw silk.
Forget the way she smelled like warm woman and soap, the same soap he’d used on his skin.
Forget the way she’d held him together when his mind and body seemed intent on falling apart.
“We should also talk,” he said. Christ, did he have plenty to tell her.
She sighed, her lips flattening into a pensive line. “Yeah.” Damn it. She was getting sad again.
“Here, I’ll get up. I bet I can find some stuff and get food going.”
“No,” she said. “I’ll do it. You can stay here and rest.”
Neither of them moved. A few seconds later, they were laughing again.
Somehow, there was less distance between them than before. Cam could see flecks of gold in those brown irises when her wide eyes searched his.
“Cam...” she began.
Cam leaned his head toward her. Their foreheads touched. Carefully, gently, he disentangled his hand from hers and used it to trace the curve of her jaw. “Allie.”
She sighed, her eyes drifting closed at his touch and her hand finding the taut skin of his forearm. “We probably shouldn’t do this now. Too soon.” But her fingers wrapped around his arm, not to pull it away but to hold him there.
“I know.”
“There’s a lot we don’t know about each other.”
“Yes.” He rested his palm against her cheek.
“But I don’t want you to stop touching me.”
His dick jumped, his lower belly twisting with something joyful and hungry. “We could... touch.”
“Yes.” She ghosted her lips across his for an electrifying moment. “We could do that.” Then she swallowed. “Or we could... do more.”
His heart seemed ready to pound a hole in his chest. His erection could probably punch right though the fabric of the cheap sweatpants. “I’m open to more.”
Allie’s fingers moved up to his bicep and stroked the skin beneath the sleeve of his T-shirt. “I’m sure you saw the box of condoms.” She laughed shakily and pressed her lips to the side of his mouth. “How could you miss it?”
He wanted to turn his head the infinitesimal distance to make it a real kiss, but he couldn’t move. He was afraid to.
“I thought it was funny—in a sad way—when I found them,” she said against his skin. “Like this prepper was expecting to get it on with every woman left alive after the shit hit the fan.”
Cam swallowed and managed to quip, “You can’t blame a guy for hoping.”
When he felt her lips curve, Cam finally found the strength to tilt her chin with his thumb and align her mouth with his. They both trembled now—he could feel the vibrations in her body. He kissed her gently, letting the gesture be the question he yearned to ask her.
She answered in the affirmative, her mouth dancing over his for a moment before she pulled back.
Their eyes met, and for once, there was nothing between them but pure, solid desire to touch and be touched.
Nothing outside this bunker, this room, this bed, mattered.
Their mouths met again in a breathless dance as they explored each other with lips and tongues.
Along the way, his covers and her robe somehow worked their way down their bodies.
Only their clothes separated skin from skin as they moved against each other, with each other.
After a couple of minutes, Cam pulled back to look into her eyes one more time. “Yeah?” he asked, wishing his voice wasn’t so damned hoarse. He swept his thumb across her bottom lip, gathering the sheen of dampness there.
She shivered, pressing closer to him, her hands questing along his torso. “Yeah,” she breathed.
Every cell in his body rejoiced. Something hot and sweet blazed inside him.
It was the first time in a long time that he knew, without a doubt, that his partner wanted him just as much, just as tenderly.
He groaned—in gratitude, in supplication—and pulled her back against him.
Rolling them both so he lay on his back and she could straddle his hips, he positioned her warm core over his aching cock.
She gasped at the movement, at the sudden pleasure of this new friction.
The best part, though, was Allie’s radiant, lustful smile when she leaned down to kiss him. His heart cracked open a bit right then, but there was no time to examine it. There was only her.