17. Kiss… Stop
Kiss… Stop
He kissed her, softly, carefully. She felt her hand rise to his chest, not to push him away, but to feel the steady yet uncertain beat of his heart—like something that had almost stopped, but hadn't.
The kiss deepened, slowly. His hands slid up her sides, easing her heavy coat from her shoulders.
It dropped onto the straw with a faint rustle, unnoticed by either of them.
Josie moaned into his mouth, low and needy, pressing herself fully against him.
Her breasts brushed his chest through the thin fabric of her shirt, sending a shiver through them both.
A sudden, almost painful heat surged through him, stealing his breath.
She knew—he heard it in her softer moan, in the wordless answer of her hips rolling against his.
His hands found the hem of her shirt and slipped beneath, palms gliding over the smooth warmth of her back until his fingers reached her bra clasp. There, he stopped, waiting.
She drew back just enough to look at him.
Her lips were flushed and swollen from his stubble, her eyes dark.
They simply stared at each other—the old barn creaking around them, wind whispering beyond the boards—two people poised at the edge of something neither could take back.
Then, with the smallest nod, she leaned in, reclaiming his mouth with a desperation that undid him.
He unfastened the clasp and carefully drew the shirt over her head.
Cool air touched her bare skin, and she shivered—from the chill or from him, he couldn't tell and didn't ask.
The sight of her stripped away his last restraint.
She stood beautiful before him, every soft curve a quiet revelation, and he bent his head to worship her—pressing open-mouthed kisses to her breasts before closing his lips around one tight nipple and drawing it gently into the heat of his mouth.
Josie's moan broke loose, raw and helpless.
She arched into him, hands threading through his hair, holding him there as if letting go had become impossible.
Restless, she shifted, guiding herself down until the soft heat of her body pressed against the hard length of him, still trapped behind his clothes.
His hips jerked, a groan tearing from his throat.
For a few breathless moments, they stayed like that—lost in each other, in the taste and press and ache of finally touching. Straw whispered beneath their boots. Dust drifted through thin shafts of light between the weathered boards. Nothing beyond the barn existed.
Then Seth tore his mouth free, kissed her once moreand forced himself back. Instead of reaching for more, he gathered her close, wrapping his arms around her bare back, shielding her from the cold with his own body. When he spoke against her hair, his voice came out rough, almost broken.
"Josie... I'm not taking you in a barn."
He took a long breath and let it out, his forehead resting against hers. Desire still pulsed between them, hot and insistent, but something deeper held him in check.
"I want you," he said, his voice scraped raw. "God, I do. But not here. Not where any sound from outside could be a threat; not on a cold floor with the wind coming through the walls. When I'm with you, I don't want to be listening for what's coming. I want it to be just you."
His hand rose to cup her cheek, thumb brushing the flushed skin beneath her eye. The look he gave her burned—fierce with longing and just as fierce with care.
They dressed in a silence that felt heavier than the one before, each movement careful to avoid contact in the dim light. Josie found herself smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her shirt, a pointless task that let her keep her eyes fixed on something other than him.
Seth ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat, breaking the quiet with a voice that came out harsher than he probably intended.
"We should get back."
Josie gave a short nod, not trusting herself to manage more than a single word. "Yeah."
He reached the barn door first, pulling it open so the late-afternoon air rushed inside, and the cold came as a welcome shock against her flushed cheeks.
They crossed the snowy yard together, keeping just enough distance between them that anyone watching from the house would think nothing of it—or so she hoped, though her heart hammered against her ribs like it wanted to give them both away.
The farmhouse, smoke curling from the chimney a welcome sight.
For a brief second, Josie saw it as it was before: her father on the porch, complaining about the screen door slamming as Mark chased Layla across the yard.
She could almost smell her mother's stew, almost hear her sister's high-pitched shriek of a laugh.
The image dissolved, leaving only the crunch of her own boots in the snow.
The front door creaked as they stepped inside, and warmth immediately wrapped around them.
Liz looked up from the kitchen table, her gaze traveling from Seth to Josie and back again.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, not with suspicion, but with a quiet, curiosity that missed nothing.
Heat crept into Josie's cheeks. Liz had always been able to read her far too well, and the apocalypse hadn't changed that.
Mercifully she said nothing, her attention returning to the map spread across the table.
Jay glanced up as they entered. "Good, you're here. We need your eyes on this."
Cara slid another mug of coffee toward them. "Come join us."
Seth took the chair beside Jay while Josie settled into the empty seat next to Liz, careful not to look across the table more often than necessary. If anyone noticed the awkwardness humming between them, no one mentioned it, and for that small mercy she found herself grateful.
Jay tapped the map with the eraser end of a pencil; his voice settled into the practical rhythm he always used when planning. "We need supplies. Medical, fuel, seeds, tools—ammunition if we can find it. And anything that'll help us reinforce Cara's place before next winter."
Liz studied the map in silence for a long moment before speaking. "You're not seriously considering Denver as a primary location."
"It gives us the best chance of finding everything on that list."
"It also gives you the best chance of getting all of you killed."
The room fell quiet. Liz leaned over the map, her finger tracing slow circles around several neighborhoods on its edges. "If you're going into the city, stay on the outskirts. Never go downtown—not unless you've got an army behind you."
Jay exchanged a glance with Seth. "You've been in there?"
"A few times. Only when I absolutely had to." Her finger drifted toward the eastern side of Denver and stopped. "Stay away from here."
"What is it?" Cara asked.
Liz's expression hardened. "It's not just the infected.
It's people. They are, by every measure, the worst kind...
ruthlessly organized. They've claimed entire neighborhoods, from what I saw.
Blocked roads, run patrols." She looked at each of them, her voice dropping.
"You have to understand, they aren't just surviving. I think they're hunting."
A tense silence settled over the room, and when Liz spoke again her voice drifted somewhere far away.
"I watched them from a rooftop almost three months ago. They stopped a family trying to leave the city—a father, a mother, a little boy." She swallowed hard. "They didn't even let them explain. They shot the father first."
Cara covered her mouth. Josie's stomach knotted, a sick dread coiling through her. "Liz..."
"The mother ran. They chased her down like it meant nothing to them." Liz's eyes stayed fixed on the map, unblinking, as though looking away might make the memory more real.
"And the little boy?" Jay asked.
Liz closed her eyes for a brief moment, and when she opened them again something in her face had gone empty. "By the time they were done with his mother... there wasn't a child left to save. Just something small, running into the dark."
No one spoke. The silence pressed down on the kitchen until Seth finally broke it, his voice low and steady. "So the east side is off limits."
"Absolutely." Liz moved her finger across the map toward the southwest, grateful it seemed to have somewhere else to direct her attention. "If I were scavenging, I'd work this area." She tapped the communities west of downtown. "Lakewood."
Jay leaned in, studying the roads. "Why there?"
"Mostly shopping centers before the fall.
Big-box stores, home improvement warehouses, farm supply, outdoor outfitters, grocery stores, medical offices—everything you just listed, concentrated along several major thoroughfares.
" She traced the routes as she spoke. "It never grew as densely populated as downtown, and because of that, the hordes never really settled there.
You'll still find infected—plenty of them—but they're scattered.
Manageable. Not packed shoulder to shoulder the way they are in the city's heart. "
Seth nodded. "And the groups?"
"I haven't seen organized territory that far west. Doesn't mean they aren't there. But if I had to bet on where you'd have the best chance of getting in and out alive..." She tapped Lakewood one final time. "...I'd favor those odds."
Jay leaned back in his chair, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "That's a solid plan. Good access, and clear escape routes."
Seth folded his arms. "We stay mobile. No unnecessary risks. If we see a large group of infected, we leave. No hesitation, no heroics."
"And if we see people?" Jay asked.
Liz answered before anyone else could, her voice flat and certain. "You assume they're hostile until they prove otherwise."
The words hung in the room. Josie looked at Jay's tight jaw, at the way Cara stared into her empty mug. None of them argued. Months ago, Liz's advice would have sounded cruel. Now, it was just the truth.
Cara finally broke the silence, her voice small. "I hate that."
Liz offered her a sad smile, gentler than anything she'd shown all evening. "So do I." She looked around the table at every face gathered there, at these people who had somehow become something like family.