He set the gun on a flat rock within reach in case he needed it. She slid out of her pack and set it next to the gun. He watched her rifle through it. When Megan pulled the bar of soap out with a cheer and held it up in the air as if she’d struck gold, he wondered what other miracles she held in that bag of hers. It was a damn Mary Poppins bag, and he waited for her to start pulling out umbrellas and lamps. Instead, she zipped it shut and splashed off the rock right into the water…shoes, giant watch and all.
“Fudge and brownies! That’s cold.”
Sam burst out laughing. “You are the worst swearer I have ever met.”
He leapt in and the water swallowed him to his waist. A million icy needles poked him in every nook and cranny. “Son of a bitch.”
He lifted his arms up out of the water for balance and circled around to face her. “See. That’s how you do it.”
“Ah, an expert.” She pointed at the dirty shirt in his hand. “What’s that?”
He felt a little sheepish. “My other shirt. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I washed it too.”
My other shirt? Had those words really come out of his mouth? There’d been a time when he owned more suits than he could count. A closet full of silk ties. A drawer full of cuff links. Everything a man of stature needed to be stylish. The memory of the first winter after his parents died popped into his head. How hard he worked to put a warm coat and shoes on his sister. That had been the turning point in their lives. After that, it had become his mission to own the world, and her mission to save it. The more he thought about things, it made sense that Summer might have gone to Vegas.
“Technically, I got the soap right before you rescued me off a roof. So, as far as I’m concerned, it’s half yours. Use as much as you want.” Megan’s voice jolted him back to the here and now. She dunked under water and jumped up again with a gasp.
He blew out several hard breaths as he lowered himself inch by inch into the cold. Sam tucked his legs up until he managed to slip under the surface. He stayed there as long as he could—until his lungs burned, and his flesh adjusted to the cool rush of water around him.
When Sam surfaced, Megan stood with her back to him, soaping her hair. His heart raced and his hands flexed involuntarily, almost dropping the spare shirt. He tossed it up on a rock and stepped toward her.
Sam eased the soap from her hand. She turned her head to look up at him over her shoulder, eyebrows knit together in question. He lifted her wet locks in one hand, and skimmed the bar of soap over them with the other. Megan closed her eyes, tipped her head back, and gave him full access to her entire head. He rubbed his hands together and watched the bubbles build while his fingers worked the golden brown strands into a lather. It felt damn good to touch a warm human being. Flesh and blood, pulsating with life.
He’d been alone too long. Months. Hard to say exactly, since he didn’t know what day it was. Bet she knew. She probably knew the exact date it happened, today’s date, all of it. He could ask, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to. It was enough just to touch her.
Sam reached over and set the soap on his discarded shirt then focused on the slippery tresses in his hands. He slid his hands through them, over and over, until all the knots came undone between his fingers. When he raised his hands to the top of her head and massaged above her ears, a moan of pleasure escaped her, and it echoed inside him. Fire rushed to his lower abdomen. Despite the cool water flowing around them, his body responded in a way it had no right. He let his fingers slide to the ends of the strands again. Her shoulder glistened, and when he scooped up a handful of water to rinse away the soap, he let his palms trail down to her shoulders just to see if they were as soft as they promised to be. She relaxed under his ministrations, so he didn’t stop. He allowed his fingers to trace a path down her arm to her hand below the surface of the water where he laced his digits with hers.
She curled her fingers around his in response and it lent all the encouragement he needed. The creamy curve of her neck called to him. Sam bent down to taste the skin there. She melted back against him, and his other arm snaked around her middle pressing her even tighter to his chest. She sighed as his lips explored the soft contours of her small frame.
He didn’t want to take her this way, but his body was on fire and he needed to feel her against him now. It had been too long and he had little control left, but he had the sense to ask her first.
“Megan?” he rasped.
She turned around and faced him. The desire in her eyes matched the urgency he felt.
Sam captured her face in his hands and plundered her mouth. There was no slow, gentle permission seeking that should be present in a first kiss. They were past that. It was hot, wet and demanding, which she met with demands of her own. God, she could argue with that tongue even without saying a word.
Her hands slipped under his wet shirt and left fiery trails across his stomach muscles as she ran her fingers along the top of his jeans, then tugged at the snap. It burst open, and she reached down his fly. He shuddered with the effort to remain in control, but suddenly the tables turned and she was in charge. The fire running through his veins made him forget the cold water, the forest around them, everything but her and the desire in her eyes. When she stepped back and unzipped her own pants, he had a clear view of her nipples pressing through the wet T-shirt and lace of her bra.
Sam reached for her with a growl. Wrapping one arm around her for support, he captured the pink flesh in his teeth…shirt, bra and all. He felt her struggling out of her wet pants under the surface of the water and used his free hand to help her, then tossed the pants and panties on the rock next to his shirt. Megan wound her arms around his neck stretching her warmth against him. He slid his hands down her body and lifted both her thighs around his waist, plunging deep into her slick folds with one thrust. She threw her head back and moaned. When he withdrew, she leaned forward and captured his mouth in a frenzied kiss matching his hunger. It felt wrong to use her like this, but her hunger seemed as strong as his.
He tried to slow the pace, to linger and get the job done right. She clasped him harder and set the rhythm for him, driving him half-mad with the need to fill his hollow existence with her body and connect with her in every way humanly possible. He rocked her against his flesh until she tensed in his arms and cried out in pleasure. The gentle spasms around his manhood sent him over the edge, and he held her tight as his own orgasm overtook him with one final pulsating drive into her soft flesh.
Sam rested his forehead against hers while he tried to catch his breath, but Megan pulled away and unwrapped her legs from his hips.
“Stay,” he rasped, not ready to give up the proximity of her soft, warm body.
“I need my pants.” She wiggled free and didn’t look at him.
Sam reluctantly gave up his hold on her and watched Megan bounce the three steps over to the rock where her pants sat. Every other woman he’d ever met, okay…slept with, usually tried to get her hooks in him at this point. Her sudden retreat confounded him.
He was drawn to Megan in a way he’d never been to anyone before. She was an amazing puzzle that warranted sorting out.
Horrified by her behavior, Megan couldn’t bring herself to look at Sam, but she felt the weight of his stare. He followed her every move. She’d never acted like such a slut in all her life. In fact, she’d only slept with two other men before. A boyfriend in college and the jerk she broke up with six months before the epidemic started, both of which had been long-term relationships. She was starting to care about Sam and now she’d behaved like a nympho in search of a last meal. What had she been thinking?
The darn pants fought back while Megan struggled to pull them on under the water. Once she got them fastened she could speak again, but did not dare look him in the eye.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
He startled her by closing the distance between them, capturing her in his arms again and lightly brushing her lips with his.
“Don’t be. I’m not.” Sam whispered against her mouth causing more shivers to course through her with a power that rivaled the river around them.
“I’m so embarrassed. I never…” She still couldn’t bring herself to look at him. He must have known, because he reached down and lifted her face to meet his gaze with a gentle finger bent under her chin.
“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but not only am I not sorry, I hope to do that again…soon. Only the right way next time, with a bed under us.” He kissed her on the nose, then reached behind her and grabbed his shirt, along with the bar of soap.
She stood dumbfounded, watching him rub them together until he handed her the bar of soap. Megan decided to wash her own clothes while they were on her body. It was just as easy.
“Is that giant watch of yours waterproof?” He rinsed out his spare shirt while he spoke.
Her hand automatically went to her wrist making sure the scar was covered. “Yep.”
She dipped under the water, more to escape his scrutiny than to rinse off. When she surfaced, he was looking to the far side of the river and reaching for his gun. She spun around to see the brush moving and lost her footing. He reached out with his free hand and steadied her, then pulled her behind him.
“But they don’t come out here, in the middle of nowhere.” She tried to reason the danger away.
The bush shook some more and he leveled the gun on it just as a mangy dog appeared. The beast’s coat hung in matted clumps, but the collar and tags around his neck said he once belonged to someone.
Megan wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.
“Are you all rinsed off?” The appearance of the dog didn’t alleviate the tension in Sam’s voice.
She nodded.
“Let’s go.” He took her arm and helped her up the riverbank. Megan felt exposed and vulnerable in so many ways. He slung his clean spare shirt over her shoulder, picked up her hand and led her to the Suburban. For a moment, it had all melted away. Now, it was back. What was it he kept saying? How things used to be didn’t matter anymore? Something like that. Suddenly, she didn’t feel embarrassed by what had happened in the river. They’d found solace in one another, if only for a brief moment.
Sam dropped her hand to unlock the doors. He reached into the Suburban and pulled out his spare gas can. The only can he had left because of her. Megan stood motionless while he poured the last of his fuel into the tank.
Chapter Five
They drove south down the country highway while the sun set in pink and orange streaks. Megan watched the shadows grow along the shoulder of the road. Seeing Sam top off the tank with his last drops of gas filled her with immense guilt. She silently stared out the passenger window.
Sam had given his fuel away to save her. How could she repay him? What did she have to offer? A map, some apples, a watch that covered a lie, and not much else.
“What’s up?” He nudged her knee with his knuckles.
She met his gaze and forced a smile. “Nothing.”
“Really? Because this is the quietest you’ve been since I met you.”
She sighed. “You’re out of gas.”
“No. If I were outta gas, we’d be walking right now.” He graced her with a smile meant to dazzle. “Don’t worry. We’ll find more. I always do.”
Megan turned back to the window. She didn’t share his conviction.
The road rose ahead of them and when they finally crested the hill Megan’s heart leapt in her throat.
“Do you see that?” She pointed at the valley in front of them. A circle of trucks, cars and RVs surrounded a large campfire that flickered in the failing light. Blue tarps hung between some of the vehicles providing additional shelter.
“Yep.” He slowed and came to a stop right in the middle of the highway and watched them in the distance. “What do you think?”
“After the guys we ran into this morning, I don’t know anymore.”
The entire campsite was surrounded by, not one, but two twisted barbed wire fences. The kind with wooden supports she’d only seen in war movies. Not all that inviting. A chill ran up Megan’s spine.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you, Megan. They might have gas they’d be willing to trade.”
“I have apples.” She laughed because her contribution was so lame.
“How ‘bout we stay up here tonight and go down in the morning.” He pointed back over his shoulder.
“I like that plan.” Relief overwhelmed her when Sam put the car in reverse, looked over his shoulder and backed off the road. “Do you think they saw us?”
“No. If anything, they may have heard the engine, but it’s almost dark. I doubt they’d venture out at night to investigate. How about dinner?” He put the vehicle in park and turned intense blue eyes on her. “Or dessert?”
She really could drown in his gaze and Megan turned away to preserve her clear head. She reached behind the seat and searched for the prized fruit. “Dinner I think. How would you like your apples? Whole, sliced, or quartered?”
“How about with peanut butter?”
“What?” Her head snapped up to find him wiggling his eyebrows at her. “You have peanut butter?”
“I am full of surprises.” He opened the car door. “Come see.”
Megan scrambled out of the car. “I haven’t seen a jar of peanut butter in months.”
He opened the back of the Suburban, reached in and pulled a plastic milk crate toward them. It was full of dry goods. Not only was there peanut butter, two jars, but there were more crackers, cans of soup, a canister of oatmeal and a bag of rice.
“Wow, nice pantry.”
“Thanks. Help yourself.”
She smiled at his generosity. It pulled at her and connected her to him in a way that seemed impossible after only two days…no matter how long those two days had been.
“How about I make you a peanut butter and apple slice sandwich on crackers?”
“Nice. While you do that, I ‘m going to rearrange the car to make room for the both of us back here tonight.” Sam knocked on the roof of the Suburban. “I can’t spend another night sleeping in the upright position.”
Her breath caught. The idea of sleeping next to him made her feel warm and, more importantly, safe. Megan busied herself making dinner on the hood of the vehicle, trying hard to ignore the fact that he was preparing their bed just a few feet away. When Sam joined her, she handed him a sandwich, then climbed onto the hood to watch the last vestiges of daylight disappear into the ink of night. The stars grew brighter with every passing breath. Megan sighed at the wonder of it all.
Sam leaned against the fender and crossed his ankles.
“What’s with the sigh?” He tipped his head and chewed.
“Have you noticed how dark night is now? Or even how bright the day is without all the smog? Everything seems…I don’t know… Clearer somehow. More important.” She shook her head. Megan could kick herself for blathering like an idiot in front of him. “Never mind, it’s ridiculous.”
“No, I get it. Money used to be my world. Making it, spending it…” He got a sheepish grin and turned away from her, “…flashing it.” He turned back to face her again. “Now it’s gone. It doesn’t exist anymore. Like someone said ‘Hey asshole, there’s more to life. Let me show you how much more.’ That’s the slate being wiped clean.” He popped the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth.
Amazed that he understood, Megan nodded. “Exactly. I never would have walked into a store and helped myself to anything before the epidemic. I just wouldn’t have thought to do something so completely wrong, even as a kid. But now, the people are gone, the money is gone, everything’s about survival. It’s not a matter of stealing. It’s a matter of living to see another day. People have become clearer as well. Without all the trappings of the world, they are transparent, either light or dark. Good or bad. Black and white.”
“See, that’s where I disagree. Nothing’s black and white anym
ore, just varying shades of gray. We all are doing what we have to, to survive.”
“I know, and I hate it. That’s why I have to get to Vegas. Maybe there’s hope for rebuilding our world there.”
He shook his head as he reached over and gave her hand a little squeeze. “You’re an optimist.”
“And you’re not?”
His hand slid away and his eyes grew hard with one last shake of his head. “Nope.”
Megan shivered.
“You ready for bed?” He was judicious in changing the subject and didn’t push his point until she agreed, like most guys she’d ever dated would have. Just as well. She couldn’t exactly explain that she hoped the future of mankind was flowing through her veins. Not without admitting that she’d been bitten, and was basically a zombie waiting to happen. Although it had been seven months, and Megan figured if she were going to turn, she would have by now. He probably would not see it that way. Nobody ever did.
Sliding off the hood, she followed him to the back of the Suburban. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but wonder what his reaction would be.
She spent the first two months of this plague without hope, watching her mother die, then waiting around to die as well. When that didn’t happen, she decided to get out of the city. After the last group of people Megan traveled with died in the attack, she realized she had to do more than just survive. Another month passed and she still felt normal, the wound on her arm completely healed, and she got the idea that maybe she was immune to whatever caused this illness. Maybe she carried some kind of antibodies; maybe she could save the world. Maybe not, but it gave her life purpose, and she needed that.
“It’s not the Fairmont—” Sam opened the back door to the Suburban as he began to apologize.
“It’s better than a Motel Six.”
His laughter echoed behind her while she climbed in, and it warmed her heart to make him smile after the day they had.
He’d put the middle seat down, shoved all the guns and ammo to the other half, then piled everything else on that same side of the car. It left just enough room for the two of them to lie down, if they huddled close, which she didn’t mind if he didn’t. Sam climbed in and shut the door behind him, then hit the door locks. Megan hunched against his pile of stuff and waited for him to get settled. It occurred to her that he was quite a bit taller than her. She doubted he would be able to stretch out.
Only Love Survives (Love and Zombies) Page 5
