“Trust me, Eve. I like anything you like.”
“I want you.” She moves, slowly, hesitantly. Up.
“You have me.”
“Do you really think I’m immune?” She sinks, and her mouth falls open in a silent cry.
I fight the urge to thrust back. “Yes. I really think you’re immune.”
“Is it dangerous out there?” Up. Down.
“Very.” I swallow a groan that wants to escape me. I want her so fucking much.
“Will you protect me?”
“Always.”
“Are you being honest right now?”
I’ve had it. I cradle her in my arms, and in one move I’ve flipped us over. With one hand buried in her hair, holding her down, I hold my other hand over her throat, curling my fingers lightly. And then I take her, ravage her.
“I will always be honest with you.”
Eve moans and clutches my hand that holds her throat, her eyes wide and a little fearful, her hips meeting my thrusts, but then she gives in and lets me have my way. Her sweet resistance turns into an even sweeter surrender when she grips the pillow, her long, strong fingers clenching tightly.
“I trust you.”
I want to tell her not to trust me. It’s my first instinct. She doesn’t know the beast that I can be. But I don’t. Her words are balm on my oldest wounds, a blanket of oil on the troubled ocean that is my soul. I want it to be true. I want her to trust me. I don’t ever want to let her go.
Pulling out, I wrap my arms around her and pull her close. I could hold her forever. I’m suddenly not interested in getting myself off. All I want is her pleasure and safety. With her back to my chest, I explore pale, silky skin, experiment, find out which exact pressure applied where makes her squirm. Eve is surprisingly easy to read. It’s a thrill realizing she’s as innocent as anyone can possibly be. She can’t have ever watched porn. She is fully and completely untainted. Everything is new to her. Eve doesn’t know that she is supposed to pout or moan or jut out her ass seductively. She is truly new to this, and it’s the greatest gift and the greatest burden. My spirit holds its breath as I map out this woman much the same way she investigated my features before.
She’s everything I never knew I needed, and I intend to make her mine. Body and soul.
Chapter Eleven
Eve
I doze off with Adam still holding me. I wake again and again. My body sings with the memories of his touches. My skin sizzles wherever I feel him warm and strong against me. There are arms and legs everywhere. A hairy chest. Thick, long hair on his head that feels dark to the touch, even though I could never explain to anyone how that feels. Blonde hair is lighter, dark hair coarser. I just know. I’ve never been wrong. My own hair is the only hair that doesn’t follow the rule. It feels black to the touch, frizzy and rough, but I know it’s light, almost white. I’ve been told my whole life how flawed I look.
His scent is unfamiliar, and I love to sniff him. He smells of strength and kindness, but also of a sorrow that eats at his insides and hollows him out. He smells of power and of a future. No one ever smelled so delicious, and in my mind I make shapes out of his scent. They’re not twisted and anguished this time. There is light and hope. I pull from the goodness inside this man, from the sun that heats my arm, and the birds that tweet outside my window. Fingering the little scar high up behind my ear, the thoughts race with the implications. What did he tell me? Did I have the infection without knowing it? What does this mean for me, for my future? Probably nothing. I’m still disabled out there, blind, useless, with no skills and no knowledge. I can’t help people. I can’t even help myself.
I stroke along Adam’s strong arm, marveling over his bulging muscles, my fingers already twitching in longing for my clay, until I remember I used up the last block. I sigh and let my head fall back against the pillow, the excitement leaving me as quickly as it came over me. I’m uncomfortable, frustrated, hungry. I’m very hungry, actually.
With a jolt, I realize that today is the day when Kiki comes by. She usually shows up in the morning. My instincts tell me it’s still early. The sun is up, but the birds only recently started singing. Carefully extricating myself from Adam’s arms and legs, I intend to make it to the bathroom. We never washed off last night. My skin is flaky and powdery with dried clay, and I fear to think of how dirty my sheets are.
I groan when I move. It seems as if everything hurts. Every muscle in my body, unused to the… activity from last night. A shudder of pleasure, a rush of guilty heat, runs through me when I think of what we did. What he did to me. With me.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Adam tightens his arms around me, and traps me to his unrelenting chest.
“To the bathroom,” I say faintly, already needing more of this man, my need to pee almost forgotten.
He growls and pushes his hardening length against my buttocks, renewing the fire between my legs. Then his hand connects with my butt in a light, playful slap. “You have two minutes, then I’m coming for you.”
I squeal out a half scream, half laugh. “I was thinking of making us breakfast.”
Adam’s stomach lets out a low grumble. I feel it gurgle against my back. He groans. “Fine. That’s probably a good idea. And—” He moves behind me. “I definitely need a shower. Okay. Off you go. Do your thing.”
“There’s another bathroom downstairs, in the hallway by the entrance. Second door to the right. There should be clean towels. You can use that.” I push up and jump to my feet, stretching my hands toward the ceiling, the tips of my fingers just about touching the wood. “See you downstairs.” I don’t bother to look for my dress. It’s probably on the floor, probably crumpled and dirty. I need a new one anyway.
“You minx,” growls Adam behind me. “You have no idea how sexy you are. Flaunting your ass like that, you bad girl. There’ll be consequences.”
His words set off an explosion of a tingling energy that spreads from the pit of my belly to between my legs, to my breasts, to my lips, and to every patch of skin he caressed last night. The need to turn back to him, to take more of what he can give, is almost greater than my need to empty my bladder. I turn, push a hand under my hair and stroke along my shoulder, along one of his favorite paths to explore.
“Yeah? What consequences?” I ask lightly.
His breaths come quicker. I almost hear his heart speed up as the air in the room thickens. “I went easy on you last night, lady, what with the virginal status and all, but it’s clear that easy is not what you need.”
His words make my insides flutter. A slight feeling of shame is immediately chased off by a heady want. I fight the instinct to sink to my knees before him and beg him to teach me. I have slumbered my whole life. The woman in me has been a dormant guest, the door to her chamber closed and locked. Adam kicked it open and invaded me in every sense. I have thirty-eight years of longing stored up. I hope he is as strong as he seems. I hope he isn’t afraid of what he has unleashed.
I know I am afraid enough for the both of us.
I swallow hard and square my shoulders, then leave for the bathroom. My hips sway, and I swear I’m not doing it to tease him. My body is new, every cell is rearranging, my insides restructuring. I ache, but it’s a good ache.
God, I hope.
For the first time there is hope.
I shower only enough to get rid of the dirt, rub some coconut oil into the tips of my hair and then pull it into a scarf that I wrap around my head. Adam is nowhere to be heard when I get out, so I make quick work pulling on fresh underwear and a dress before I change the sheets. I open a window slightly to let some air into the room. It smells as if it has rained during the night. Funny. I usually wake when the weather shifts, but not this night.
As I go downstairs, the tips of my fingers stroking along the railing, I’m met by the scent of coffee and my stomach protests from being denied for so long. I usually don’t eat much, but it’s obvious that lovemaking demands replenishments.
“Adam?”
I sense him before me, across the room by the wall that faces the street. There’s a faint whisper from his breaths, a scent of vanilla from the soap, and the essence that is him.
He doesn’t speak. I move closer. My heart flutters in sudden worry.
“Adam?”
“My fucking God, you’re beautiful, Eve.”
Blood rushes to my cheeks, and I cup them in my hands as self-awareness rears its ugly head. Beautiful and Eve in the same sentence is an oxymoron, and even though my rational mind believes he means it, the hurt from years of being called a monster runs much, much deeper.
Adam is suddenly right before me. He takes my hands in his and moves them off my face. Slow strokes across my cheeks wipes off tears I didn’t know fell.
“Let’s eat, babe. How do you feel about baked beans?”
I smile and nod eagerly. “It sounds delicious. I didn’t know you cooked.”
Adam follows me to my seat and guides me until I sit. “I’m a man full of surprises. There’s a cup of coffee to your left, half an arm’s length away, a plate before you with a fork. It’s empty, but I’ll go get the beans now.”
I find the cup with the warm contents. “You don’t have to—”
“I know.”
“I can—”
“I want to. Okay? I want to.”
“Okay,” I say and cover my smile with the cup as I take the first sip of coffee.
His lips are soft as he plants a kiss on my cheek. “Good girl.”
My whole being is focused on his receding steps as he moves toward the kitchen.
Good girl.
It’s a ‘good girl’ that comes with the promise of ‘bad girl’, with the promise of ownership, of discipline, of safety, of being his. His good girl.
Adam
I’m happy. That’s the only word I can think of that matches how I feel. I’m just plain old happy in this rickety, castle-like wooden house. Happy, despite the world being shot to hell, despite not knowing yet how I’ll get back home to my kid, even though I have a definite plan for that which will be set in motion within a short few hours. The remarkable angel-like creature out there in the dining room makes my insides light. It feels as if spring has arrived after an unusually rough winter. Like that feeling when the sun finally warms the air.
Grabbing the pot with the baked beans, I’m about to turn when a low rumble and movement on the street catch my attention. My heart suddenly races, and at the same time, a chill settles in me, shutting off all emotion. My fucking truck passes right before my eyes. Still clutching the pot, I hide behind the curtain and peek out, trying to see the driver, but to no avail. I don’t know if it’s Coran, or one of my guys who has turned loyalties, or if it’s the fucktard of a neighbor himself. I watch as the truck turns the corner in the intersection and disappears into the overgrown foliage of the yard we investigated a couple of days ago.
That theft stands for so much more than some missing guns. It’s safety for Toad. It’s leverage, and a way to get food. It messes with the fundamentals of our lives.
My mouth is dry, and for a few moments I stare in disbelief at the empty street, before the sound of yet another engine makes me hide again. I cast a glance at the black pickup that stops right after it comes into sight. The engine is turned off. For a few moments nothing happens, then the driver’s door opens and out hops Coran. His face is covered, he’s dressed in black from top to toe, heavily armed, and looks ready for battle. The vision kicks me into action. I drop the pot on the counter and dart through the house, picking up my guns and my boots, gearing up as I move.
I spend one moment taking in the peaceful vision of Eve with her coffee. She sits absolutely still. Too still. She’s not stupid. She knows something is going on.
My heart hammers, and guilt crawls inside me. I take a step toward her, just about to tell her that I… that I what? But then I see movement on the street and whip my head around. Coran is on his way back to the truck. Oh fuck no! No time to explain. I’ll be back almost before she knows I’m gone anyway. I pull up the mask to cover my lower face, then sneak out the back door and run around the house, catching Coran right as he throws something inside the pickup and pushes the door closed.
My second in command has disbelief written all over him.
“I’ll explain later,” I say. “You’re back. I’m here. That’s all that matters.”
“Man!” He keeps his voice hushed, but excitement still makes it too loud, and I gesture for him to keep it down. “Dude! I lost you. Where the fuck’s your radio?”
I think of Eve drenching me in water and smile inwardly. “Long story. Who’s the fucker with our truck, and why’s he still behind the wheel?”
“We decided to see what he was up to and who he worked for, because it became pretty obvious that he’s not the brain behind snagging our stuff.”
I throw out my hands, gesturing for him to continue.
“Turns out the Farmer Joe hunch was a good one. Sometimes what’s right before your eyes really is all there is.”
“The farmer? With the outdated website? So? He’s building an army, or what?”
“It’s huge, Pi. But it gets better.”
“Why?”
“We can take him.”
I wait.
“We had to get creative in your absence.”
I narrow my eyes and wait for him to continue. I trust Coran with my life, and I encourage initiative. He’s got good instincts. Still, I prefer to be in the thick of things and not fucking bypassed.
“Wanna get into crops and cattle?” Coran’s eyes twinkle. I can easily imagine his skewed grin beneath that mask.
I shrug. “Takes a lot of manpower. Which we don’t have.”
Coran looks around us, then takes my arm and pulls me deeper into the shadows under a large chestnut tree. The leaves are fresh, and the fruit are small green buds that hang over us like a canopy. He pulls down his mask and licks his lips. “See, Farmer Joe has made a lot of enemies. He’s got a huge army and thinks he’s invincible, but he’s made one fucking giant mistake. He’s still on the grid.”
“Electricity?” I assume that’s what Coran talks about, and it’s unusual. Farmers always have their own generators.
“Water. He’s got his own, too, but I have a way in, and one rigged charge at the right spot will force him to hook up with the city’s supplies.”
We’re not in control of the water in this county, but I have a feeling there’s more, so I nod and wait.
“And these guys are on our side. They’ve been waiting for a chance to take him out. He’s been putting his nose where it doesn’t belong and making enemies left and right.”
“Damn right, he is.” I study the barn-like shed that hides our truck. “We taking this baby back, or what?”
“Let’s roll.”
I take out my gun and pull the mask back up. Coran does the same. As we approach the back entrance of the house, I nod toward it. “Who’s this guy? He loyal with the farmer?”
“He’s just some guy trying to survive. I don’t think he’s Joe’s guy. I saw the exchange. He’s no criminal. They paid him off, and that was that.”
“You let them buy our guns?”
“Had bigger fish to fry,” says Coran.
“What happened with our driver?”
“Pretty sure he sold us out. They probably made him an offer he couldn’t resist. Never did trust that guy.”
I growl, then holster the gun. “We’re never doing business with this prick, but we don’t need to kill him. Only shoot if he shoots first.”
Coran frowns and twists his lips, then nods.
The air in the barn is warm, and heat radiates from the engine compartment. The key sits in the ignition, and nothing appears to be damaged. From what I gather, there are a few kids of various ages and two adults holed up in the house. If I start the truck, the man will be alerted, come out, probably armed, and things will get messy. If we go ins
ide and take care of them first, we’ll risk exposing ourselves to whatever germs they carry, and things might get even messier. Maybe they’re not infected, but why risk it? I slide open the door in the back of the barn. No need to run through it. It will only damage the chassis.
“Cor.”
“Yes, sir.”
I flash him a grin. Sir. I always liked that.
“Go guard the back door. I’ll start the truck. If the guy comes running, you knock him out. Don’t be noisy. I’ll go slow from a couple of blocks east of here and wait for you to catch up. Then I’ll see you back at the compound.”
Coran pats his chest then digs into a pocket, pulling up a radio. “Whatever the fuck happened with yours. Take this. I’ve got another in the pickup.”
I grab it and climb up into the seat. “I’ll count to sixty, then I’m off.”
“I’ll take care of the wannabe gangster.” Coran rubs his nose beneath the mask, corrects the fabric and disappears into the shadows.
I start the silent count as I adjust the seat to my preferences. I’ll have to back out of the shed with an eight-wheeler, and I’m gonna have to be fast about it. I know what it looks like where I’m going, and hopefully I won’t run over anyone. Chances are slim, though. People stay inside for the most part.
Fifty-eight.
Fifty-nine.
I hope Coran’s got his shit together.
Sixty.
The engine roars to life when I turn the key. I put the gear in reverse and then I’m off. My insides sing with joy over finally being on the move again. The street is empty. Eve’s house isn’t visible from here, and for a moment something pinches my heart when I think of her sitting alone with her coffee, never knowing where I went. Maybe I could park around the corner, out of sight from her truck-stealing neighbor, and then double back on foot, hidden in the shadows, and explain that I’m not leaving, but that I have things I need to take care of? Then I think of another little person who never knew where I went, and the ache in my heart increases a thousand-fold.
I Am Eve Page 9
