by Selena Kitt
Her father had loaded the storage closet with all sorts of things—from snow shoes and extra coats to cross-country skis, animal traps and survival knives. They still hadn’t been through everything. She knew there was a list of inventory somewhere—her father had told her about it before he died—but it was back at the house.
Ivy quickly got dressed, towel-drying her hair the best she could—that was one thing she really missed. Of course, her father with his buzz-cut wouldn’t think to supply a hair dryer for the apocalypse.
By the time the oatmeal was ready—she made it with powdered milk and water for a little extra protein—Caleb was out of the shower, that little towel wrapped around his waist. She made a conscious attempt to keep her eyes averted as he padded past her through the kitchen, but it was an effort.
“Hungry?” she called.
Caleb was getting dressed in the bunk room, and she kept her back turned—or she would have been able to see him bare-assed, pulling on his boxers and cargo pants. The man loved pants with pockets. She was surprised by the things he kept hidden in there, from utility knives to rubber bands. She teased him that he was like a walking junk drawer.
“When am I not hungry?” He snorted and she laughed, stirring one small packet of sugar into her oatmeal. They’re run through the pre-packaged oatmeal—the kind with the sugar built-in—within the first two days. Ivy’s fault. But processed sugar at all was quite a treat—she’d run out of it at home over six months ago and had to resort to more natural sweeteners. Stevia was easy to grow, though. Another of her father’s forethoughts.
“Rough night?” he asked as he turned one of the kitchen chairs around and straddled it. He remained barefoot and shirtless. The temperature in the bunker was under control now, and the floors stayed at a constant—her father had radiant floor heating installed between the concrete foundation and the laminate wood-like flooring he’d had installed over it.
“Do I look tired?” Ivy cocked an eyebrow at him, sliding his bowl of oatmeal to him—it was twice the size of hers—as she sat down across from him.
He shrugged, digging in. “I heard you calling out in your sleep again.”
“You did?” She looked at him, surprised.
“Same dream?”
She nodded, then sighed. “I wish I could just go home…”
“I know.” He sighed, too. “I’m sorry, Ivy.”
“But… when can we?” She saw the way his jaw tightened at that question. It always did. “It’s been a week. Maybe they’ve moved on?”
He gave a slow shake of his head, already scraping the bottom of his bowl. Ivy hadn’t eaten half of hers yet.
“How do you know?” she asked, frowning. “It’s not like you’ve gone back to check. You just stick your head out of the bunker and look around, like Punxsutawney Phil, and say six more weeks or whatever.”
“I just know.” That muscle in his jaw was working under his beard. “Trust me.”
“Trust me,” she whispered under her breath, rolling her eyes. “You don’t ask much, do you?”
Caleb sat back, his hands gripping the back of the chair as he straddled it, just looking at her. That look was maddening. He was always so damned calm. Ivy sighed, grabbing his bowl and hers, limping them over to the sink. She stood there, quickly finishing her oatmeal, before starting to wash up.
“How’s your ankle?” he asked softly.
“Oh, what do you care?” Ivy snapped, putting their bowls in the dish rack to air dry, not turning to look at him.
“Hey, want me to teach you how to play chess today?” Caleb offered, standing and turning his chair around to push it under the table.
“No.” She knew she was being petulant, but she just felt so cooped up in here, she didn’t think she could stand it for another minute.
And then there was her dream. She knew it wasn’t real—she didn’t believe in premonitions, exactly. But the thought of strangers in her house, going through her things, bothered her more than she could say.
“I didn’t sleep well. I’m going back to bed.” She turned and left the kitchen, walking right past him like he wasn’t there—although she was, in fact, very well-aware of him. She felt his presence, even after she’d crawled back into bed and closed her eyes, trying to pretend he wasn’t there.
Chapter 9—Ivy
“Let’s go for a walk.”
Ivy stirred from the sweetest dream, feeling the heat of Caleb’s breath on her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment she wasn’t sure what was real and what was dream.
She’d been recovering in her dream, her foot up on the end of the sofa—a position she’d been in a lot the past week—watching Mad Men on television. Which, of course, is how she knew it was a dream, because there was no “Netflix and chill” anymore.
But in her dream, Caleb had been puttering around the kitchen and had brought her strawberry shortcake as a surprise. He had been there, squatting down beside her, putting the dessert on the coffee table, and it had happened in an instant.
The press of his lips against hers sent fire rushing through her veins.
“Are you up to it?” Caleb asked, cocking his head at her. “I can carry you, if you get tired.”
Ivy looked into those bright, blue eyes, wondering if she really was still dreaming. Had Caleb just asked her to go for a walk? Outside? In the great, big, dangerous world?
“Do you mean it?” she breathed, trying to separate dream from reality. He hadn’t kissed her in reality—had he? She could almost still feel the warm press of his lips, the delicious tickle of his beard.
“Yeah.” His fingers moved over her cheek, brushing a slightly-damp piece of hair away from it. “Let’s go, shortcake.”
They went out the back entrance. Caleb had gone that first day with her key to find the second exit and remove the padlock so he could bolt it from the inside and assure they had two ways in and out of the bunker. Now, he made sure to bring the padlocks with him—in one of his many pockets—so he could lock the bunker up when they left.
Ivy spread her arms in the clearing, breathing in the fresh air and turning her face up to the sunshine. Last week’s rain had brought a fresh field of dandelions, Queen Anne’s Lace and wild daisies that grew on long, spindly stalks. Ivy plucked daisies as they walked, making a chain.
“Your ankle’s okay?” Caleb asked as they ventured further into the woods. They were going in the opposite direction of the house, which disappointed Ivy, but she didn’t mention it. She was just glad to be outside at this point.
“Perfect.” She beamed at him as they worked their way down the path. After a while, it did begin to hurt again, but not too badly. Enough that she might have to take some extra-strength Tylenol later, but not the Vicodin, and that pleased her.
“So where are we going?” she asked, smiling when she felt Caleb’s hand at the small of her back as they climbed over a tree that had fallen over the path.
“For a walk,” he said, giving her a little sideways smile.
“Well duh.” The day was warm and, in spite of the insects, she wished she’d worn shorts instead of jeans and a t-shirt. Caleb had pulled on a black t-shirt and wore his combat boots. He obviously didn’t want to tell her where they were going, so she changed the subject. “So you really lived around here when you were a kid?”
“Copper Harbor.” He held branches out of the way so Ivy could pass.
“Small world up here. Your mom and dad and your brother, Jonah?”
“Yep,” he agreed. He’d told her that much, but Ivy wanted more.
“That’s really not far from here,” she mused. “Funny that we never crossed paths.”
“Well, you were in boarding school in Traverse City then, right?” he reminded her, reaching for her hand to steady her as she climbed another log across the path. Last week’s storm must have knocked down a lot of dead wood, she thought.
“Yes.” She nodded. “Then I went to U of M. You were in the military then?”
“Too bad we didn’t cross paths,” she said, smiling up at him. “Although, I had my first real boyfriend that summer. I might not have noticed you.”
“Did you?” Caleb raised his eyebrows at her, looking like he didn’t believe her for a minute.
“He turned out to be a colossal fuck stain.” She wrinkled her nose, swinging her hand in his.
Caleb chuckled. He hadn’t been offended by Ivy’s colorful vocabulary, yet—she could swear like a sailor, thanks to growing up with her father—but then she found out he’d been a Marine in the time before, and now she knew why. Although she hadn’t heard him swear once, yet, that she could remember. Maybe Marines kept the worst words for the worst situations. Or maybe he just thought it wouldn’t be polite around a girl? That thought made her smile.
“And I was the dumbass who decided to give him my virginity.” She snorted. “Thought I was saving it for someone special. Yeah, it was so special, he disappeared the minute he got what he wanted. Granted, that was after he asked me to marry him…”
“You were going to marry him?” Caleb scowled.
“Right?” Ivy could laugh at it now, rolling her eyes. It didn’t hurt anymore. Well, at least, not like it used to. “I was so naïve. Anyway, he fucked me and left me for some skinny blonde who would look good on his arm at the country club.”
“Rat bastard,” Caleb muttered.
“Beyond,” she agreed, shaking her head. “Vaughn made me give the ring back in front of her. It was… wow, it was bad. Like, really bad. A huge scene. And you know, how everyone up here knows everyone else?”
“Vaughn?” Caleb stiffened beside her and she glanced up at his face, seeing his jaw working under his beard again.
“Yeah, it was a family name.” Ivy cringed at the memories this conversation was bringing back, but she was committed to telling him, now that she’d started. “He came from money. Like, you know, old money? His family summered up here. His father had a boat. A yacht.”
“Vaughn…” Caleb snorted, shaking his head. His eyes appeared darker here, in the shade of the trees, as they made their way through the denser forest.
“Rich people name their kids the weirdest things,” Ivy commented, shaking her head as they reached the tree line. “His new girlfriend’s name was Cricket. Can you imagine? Anyway, Cricket got my ring. And Vaughn said, right there in front of everyone, his parents, this girl—he laughed and said… he couldn’t believe I thought he would marry a cow like me.”
Caleb stopped so suddenly, pulling her back to him, that she might have tripped if his arms hadn’t gone around her. He pulled her to him so hard, she gasped, losing her breath.
“Caleb?” she whispered, seeing a light in his eyes that almost scared her.
“You’re mine, Ivy,” he growled, his hands moving down to possessively cup her ass, bringing her up closer to his mouth. “You were always meant to be mine.”
She didn’t have an answer for this as his mouth claimed hers. She couldn’t remember the last time she was kissed—and couldn’t remember anything at all as soon as his lips crushed hers. Ivy let out a little whimper, her hands moving up the thick, solid, muscled wall of his chest, arms going around his neck, clinging to him. His tongue split the seam of her lips and she opened to him without question, letting him taste her completely.
This wasn’t the sweet, tender kiss of her dream. This was something raw, primal, animal, and it elicited that sort of response in her. Caleb’s hands moved over her body, pulling her hips hard against him, so she couldn’t help but feel the throbbing length of him against her belly. The kiss went on so long she could hardly breathe when they parted.
The knowledge of what had just happened flickered in his eyes, the briefest question, and Ivy answered him by hungrily pulling his mouth back to hers. Caleb gave a little groan when she did that, his hands sliding up under her t-shirt, pushing it high. There was no one there to see them, except the squirrels and the chipmunks, and Ivy wouldn’t have cared if there was.
She moaned into his mouth when his hands cupped the full, heavy weight of her breasts, his thumbs flicking back and forth over her nipples. They hardened instantly at his touch, as if seeking more of it, and she could suddenly feel the hot, steady beat of her pulse at her crotch, growing faster by the moment.
“Caleb,” she murmured, her hands pushing his t-shirt up, feeling the thick ropes of muscle under his abdomen tightening along the way.
He stopped for a moment to pull it off, and she drank in the sight of him, not looking away this time, as he pulled her t-shirt off over her head. Ivy had never been a fan of bras and she wasn’t wearing one now. His gaze moved down to her chest, the heat of it making her flush, her mocha-colored nipples growing even harder at the sudden temperature change.
“You’re beautiful,” he croaked, his expression almost pained as he worked the button on her jeans. “You’re so fucking beautiful, I can’t stand it.”
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, I’m not.”
“Oh, yes you fucking are.” Caleb went to his knees on the forest floor in front of her, working her jeans down the fullness of her hips, taking her white cotton panties with them. She cried out when he wrapped his arms around her, rubbing his face against her belly, between her legs, his beard soft and rough at the same time.
Her hands moved through his hair—a thick, brown mane, almost as wiry as the hair of his beard—as she toed off her sneakers and stepped out of her jeans and panties and socks all at once, leaving her completely naked in the middle of the woods with this man.
“Mine,” he groaned, putting one of her thighs up over his shoulder, then the other. Ivy would have toppled if there hadn’t been a birch tree at her back, the bark smooth, almost soft, although the tree trunk was unforgiving.
Then Caleb’s mouth was on her, and she forgot about everything else. His tongue found her center, his mouth working on her, devouring her. When she looked down, she saw his eyes fastened on her face, watching her expression as she gazed down at him in wonder. The dark, wiry hair on her pubis blended with his beard, and she couldn’t tell where she began and he ended.
“Oh! Caleb!” she cried, arching and bucking, digging her heels into the muscles of his back. He moaned against her, into her, licking and sucking furiously, sending her flying over the edge. Her whole body shuddered with her climax, her sex throbbing, still aching for more. She wanted him, inside her, deep inside her. She’d never wanted anything more.
“Oh my God,” he groaned, rubbing his juice-wet beard against her belly, leaving fiery kisses all over her skin. “You’re so mine. Do you hear me? Mine.”
“Yes,” she whispered, nodding down at him as he eased her legs off his shoulders. There was no point in denying it, not anymore. She’d been fighting against this since the beginning, not sure if she could believe him, trust him.
Caleb stood, kissing her, pinning her to the birch tree as he worked down the zipper on his pants. She felt the heat of him pressed between them as they kissed, and she tasted herself on his tongue. His beard was wet with her and she licked it off, making him moan in response.
“I need to be inside you,” he panted, grabbing her hips in both hands and lifting her again. Ivy was amazed and delighted by his ability to move and maneuver her wherever he wanted.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and welcomed him home.
Caleb impaled her against the birch tree, using it as leverage to get himself deeper, but always keeping her in his arms, her flesh protected from the hard bite of the tree bark at her back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and went along for the ride, a hot, rhythmic one of pleasure and need. He whispered her name, reddening the skin of her cheeks and neck with his beard as he fucked her, harder and deeper than she ever thought possible, until she thought she would split apart.
; “Caleb!” she gasped, feeling the tell-tale tremble of her limbs as she begged him take her there. “Oh God, please!”
“Come for me,” he growled, his eyes alight as he met hers, making hot, wet circles deep inside of her. “Come all over me, baby. I want it. I want you.”
“Oh God,” she whispered, feeling more for him than she’d ever felt for anyone in her life. She didn’t understand it—part of her protested, too much, too soon, don’t do it—but she couldn’t deny it, couldn’t deny him.
“Yes,” Ivy cried, pressing her mouth to his in surrender, opening up to him completely, letting herself go. “Yes, yes, yes.”
Her orgasm came like an earthquake she was sure would open the ground they stood on and swallow them. But Caleb held onto her as she turned to jelly, slippery in his arms, her body quivering, toes curling into the small of his back. She felt him stiffen, grow even harder inside of her, if that was even possible, the white-hot pulse of his release filling her womb to overflowing.