"Sandy." He tilted my chin up to make me look at him. "I know. They trained me to recognise the signs of…" He hesitated for a moment, reluctant to say the word, and his arms tightened protectively around me. "…abuse."
I made a sound that wasn’t really a word at all, but more of a whimper. He’d figured out what I couldn’t put into words. He did understand.
With gentle fingers, he stroked my cheek and down along my jaw, then kissed me again, just quickly and tenderly. The kiss ended almost as swiftly as it began, and didn’t give panic a chance to resurface.
"I want you, Sandy," he whispered, "and I want you to be my lover. I’ve never had a lover before…" His words trailed off, and he broke eye contact. "…but I’ve waited a lifetime, I can wait a few more days, a few more weeks. A few more years if I have to. Until you’re ready. Until then, just know that I’ll always be here for you. I’ll never let anyone hurt you again. I swear to you, on my life."
I had no idea what to say, so I just stared at him – but it was okay, because he knew that I understood.
"When you’re ready," he added softly, as he gathered me up to carry me back to my own bed, "you just tell me, and I’ll be waiting for you."
***
I slept late that morning, later than I’d done in years. When finally I awoke, groggy and confused, I found myself with strong arms wrapped around me and the warmth of a human body pressed against my back.
Then, it all came crashing back to me.
I slumped against the pillow and let the comfort of his arms soothe me. After we’d finished speaking, he had carried me back to my bed and tucked me in, then he got up to leave. Suddenly terrified of being alone, I had panicked. I’d grabbed his hand and begged him to stay.
Please, please don’t leave me…
He stayed. He snuggled into bed beside me, keeping his trousers on to make himself as unthreatening as possible. I appreciated the effort, considering that I was naked as a jaybird and too exhausted to get dressed at the time.
It was okay. True to his word, his touch stayed innocent. He lay behind me with his arms wrapped around my waist and his face snuggled against the back of my neck. I shifted slightly but he didn’t move, still fast asleep.
I lay there for a while, just thinking. Wondering what I’d gotten myself into.
He’s never been with a woman before, I thought, and found myself mulling over that point in my head. Was it really such a surprise, though? He had been 22 years old when all this happened, and he'd grown up in a carefully monitored environment of study and personal development. He was a good guy – still is a good guy – and had been too wrapped up in his studies and his ambition to waste time on girlfriends and frivolous relationships.
The concept of one day having a wife and children had been a very distant thought on that day ten years ago when our world changed forever.
I wondered if he regretted those lost opportunities now, when the only chance he had at love was with an underweight blonde with severe psychological issues. He didn’t really have many other options. The only other females about were Skye, who was enamoured with someone else, and Madeline, who was seven.
Don’t think like that, I scolded myself when I realised what I was doing. There were still plenty of other women left in the world, and he'd chosen me. I smacked my self-doubt across its dirty little face, and shoved it back into the deepest recesses of my brain where it belonged. I refused to let it control me and ruin what I might be able to develop with this kind man in the future.
With one of my demons successfully conquered – for now – my thoughts drifted back to Michael again. I felt a little disappointed at myself for wondering if he was the father of Skye’s baby. In retrospect, it seemed so obvious. He was just the kind of man who was protective by nature and respectful to everyone, particularly women. He would have protected her regardless of whose baby it was. My brief bout of jealousy had been completely misplaced.
I shifted a little in his arms, feeling wrung out and exhausted from the night’s adventure. My body had responded to him with such intensity that I still felt the dampness of past arousal between my thighs. It had faded now to a dull discomfort, like an itch that went unscratched.
Was the discomfort much worse for him? I had explored my sexuality in high school as most young people did, and I understood in a distant sort of way just how uncomfortable it was for a healthy young man to go unsatisfied. Poor Michael had gone for more than ten years without satisfaction – and then there was me, getting him all riled up like a dirty temptress and leaving him in the lurch.
Okay, now I felt bad. He’d been so sweet to me, and in return I’d put him through such hell that he really didn’t deserve. Somehow, it made it even worse that he’d been so nice about it. As much as he tried to be strong for the others, he had let me in to see the vulnerable young man inside him. Now I felt like I’d kicked a puppy.
I lay there, pondering ways to make it up to him, until I finally came to a decision. There were ways that I could thank him for his kindness and let him experience blessed relief without putting myself back into panic mode. It would take a good deal of courage on my part, and some obedience on his, but I felt like I could do it for his sake. The attraction that I felt towards him was so intense and so genuine that I wanted to overcome my demons somehow, and that would only come with effort.
It was being vulnerable that made me freak out, I realised. Being sprawled on my back with a man atop me, no control about what was going to happen to me. If I took back my control then I should be fine. I sensed that Michael would probably let me.
I rolled over within the circle of his arms and turned towards him, gazing down at his handsome face, so peaceful in sleep.
Oh, but I shouldn’t wake him, my inner voice crooned, but I smacked it aside as the voice of cowardice. He’d be perfectly happy with being woken up this way.
I drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. We were so close together that my breath stirred his eyelashes. The stubble on his chin had grown overnight, I noticed with a detached fascination. I’d forgotten how swiftly a man’s beard grew.
With one gentle hand, I slid my fingertips down across his belly to trace the contours of his abdomen. It rose and fell slowly in time with his breath, and I found myself marvelling at the warmth that radiated from his skin. Something else that I’d forgotten, I guessed.
My fingers found the waistband of his trousers, and carefully undid the top button. The zipper slid down, and I discovered that in his hurry to catch me the night before, he had neglected to find his shorts. No wonder he had been so insistent about keeping his pants on when he climbed into my bed.
I suppressed a smile at the thought, and slid my hand down the front of his trousers. In spite of myself, I felt my own breath begin to quicken when I felt his body respond to my touch.
So did his, for that matter. His brow furrowed and he stirred against me before his eyelids cracked open. A second later he was fully awake, lying stiff in bed beside me.
"What are you doing?" His voice was a harsh whisper; I silenced him with a finger across his lips.
"Shh…"
With a firm but gentle hand, I pressed him onto his back. He obeyed reluctantly, and his eyes went wide when the blankets fell away to reveal what I’d been doing to him in his sleep.
"But—" He tried to protest, but I shushed him again.
"Just lie still and follow orders, officer." I put on my best playful tone to mask my own nervousness. Making a great show of confidence, I slipped a leg over him to straddle his thighs, my bottom resting upon his knees. "We’re going to play a game. I want you to pretend that I’m your sergeant, and you’re my good, obedient constable."
"Ah…" There was a flush of colour creeping up the sides of his throat and I felt a surge of pride at his reaction. "…but… my sergeant was an ugly old man."
Way to ruin the mood, Mike.
"Okay, well pretend I’m your sergeant, if your sergeant was a sexy twenty-some
thing girl." I gave him my best approximation of a sultry pout. He laughed and nodded his consent.
"Ah, okay. Y-yes, ma’am."
Then he shot me a salute. With me pinning him to the bed, his pants unzipped and naked above the waist, it struck me as the funniest thing I’d ever seen. It took all of my willpower not to burst out laughing and completely destroy the mood once and for all.
"Much better." I play-acted, letting my confidence grow with time. He was letting me play, even if it made him uncomfortable, and that reassured me. He seemed to understand that I needed this to bolster my own personal confidence, and he was willing to let me try. "Now, you have been such a good and understanding person, that I feel I must reward you for your loyalty. Sadly, I’m all out of medals, so we’ll have to find something else that’ll do for a reward."
"Ehhh?"
He just looked totally bewildered now. Okay, I’m not good at this game. I sighed and rolled my eyes.
"Oh, just shut up and enjoy yourself, would you? I’m a little rusty, so try to make encouraging noises or something." For lack of a better response, I fell back into sarcasm to get my point across.
He looked down at his crotch, then looked back at me. It was a confused look, like he couldn’t quite figure out what I was about, but he still seemed inclined to let me do as I pleased to him.
That was what I needed.
I eased myself back a bit and leaned down and planted a playful kiss upon his stomach. I felt his deep intake of breath as he realised with shock what I planned to do. I glanced up and met his startled gaze then narrowed my eyes and gave him a flirtatious smile.
As it turned out, I wasn’t as rusty as I thought.
***
Later, we lay contentedly in one another’s arms, his eyes closed and arms wrapped around me possessively. Though he tried to say something, all that came out were whispered half-words that meant nothing.
It was fine, though. I knew what he meant.
Frankly, I just felt better for no longer being that crazy bitch that runs off screaming and flailing because a cute guy kissed her. Not that he would ever dream if calling me that, but that was how I’d been thinking of myself.
Sometimes the worst critic was the one inside your own head, and I hated that feeling. I hated knowing that I was judging a good man against the template of other people’s wrongdoing. Worst of all, I hated knowing that I had hurt him. He’d made it clear that he didn’t judge me for that, but his opinion of me was still secondary to my own. I had to follow my instincts, and do what felt right to me, and my conscience.
I let him have a couple of minutes to rest and recover before I cleared my throat and gave him a gentle nudge.
"Time to get up, sleepy-head. Day’s a’wasting."
He grunted and opened one eye to give me a glare. It didn’t last long, though. It faded as I smiled back at him playfully, then melted into a look of contented relaxation. He started to lay his head back down, but I wasn’t having any of it – and neither was he, since I took the blanket with me when I extracted myself from the warmth of his embrace.
I heard grumbling behind me as I dressed in some of the spare clothing I’d acquired since my arrival. My normal clothing would probably be almost dry by now, but getting it would mean prancing through the hallways butt-naked, and I wasn’t that self-confident.
Jeans and a t-shirt would do. Not my usual attire, but functional and, more importantly, clean. As I pulled the shirt over my head, I felt strong hands sneak around my waist.
"What’s this, then?" Michael whispered in my ear, his lips so close enough that I could feel his breath. I shivered.
"What’s what?" I turned my head just a little, to look up into his eyes.
He said nothing in return, just smiled knowingly. One of his hands crept up beneath my shirt, across my belly, until his fingertips grazed the curve of my breast. I felt myself flush at the touch and suddenly I understood the question.
"Oh, that, um…"
He grinned at my embarrassment – or was it the fact that I didn’t pull away?
"You clearly have no idea how hard it is to find a decent bra in this day and age." I finally gathered the wits to reply. "I only have one, and I left it in the bathroom last night."
It was true. Good lingerie was hard enough to find before the end of the world; afterwards, it was nearly impossible. Since it was made of such light fabrics, it doesn’t last long to start with, and when you lost one it took forever to find a replacement.
"Oh." He seemed a little disappointed at that answer, and his hands drifted back down to rest on my hips. "Here was me, getting all excited and you were just being practical."
I turned within the circle of his embrace and slipped my arms around his waist in a moment of uncharacteristic boldness. "Well, at least you can comfort yourself with the fact that you’re the only one that knows?"
His expression brightened. "That… is true."
Amused, I pressed a quick kiss to his lips, then released him and took his hand instead. "Come on, the others will probably be frantic with worry since we didn’t show up to breakfast."
"Hu-uh?" He looked dazed and still a wee bit sleepy. "What time is it?"
"Almost midday, I think."
"Ah, cripes. They’ve probably sent out search parties by now."
Suddenly wide awake, Michael took the lead. He opened the door and led me out, leaving me to admire just how nice he looked in his uniform. While I was dressing, he had put his shirt back on and straightened himself up. Now, he looked like a real police officer at last.
Call me a sucker for a man in uniform.
"I should go find the doctor," I admitted reluctantly, loathe to let go of his hand. "I need my bandages changed." I’d gotten them soaking wet again the night before, and wet bandages were a breeding ground for bacteria.
"Yeah. I should find Skye and see how she’s getting on with the packing all by herself."
We looked at one another and a flash of understanding passed between us. Neither of us particularly wanted to leave the other, and yet we must. The look was long and charged with tension, but finally I released his hand.
"I’ll see you soon?" I tried not to sound too hopeful, but failed miserably.
"Count on it." He smiled reassuringly, then turned with a wave and headed away from me.
I hate to see you leave, but love to watch you go, I thought, my demented brain dredging up yet another stupidly clichéd old quote from the deepest recesses of my memory. I shook my head to distract myself, and then limped off in search of the doctor.
***
It didn’t take long to find him. He was a creature of habit as well, and I already knew his patterns. After a thorough scolding taking so long to come and see him, he sat me down and pulled my foot into his lap to strip off the soggy bandages.
"Again, you get these wet." He sighed, a sound of long-suffering annoyance. "How many times must I tell you to keep them dry?"
"I know, I know; I’m sorry. I had a momentary lapse of judgement." My explanation was weak, but I didn’t feel like telling him the truth. I liked it better when what was developing between Michael and I was our little secret.
"Mm-hm." The doctor stared at me over the rim of his spectacles. "‘Feeling ill’ again, were we?"
Oh great. He even made the air-quotes with his fingers. I could feel my cheeks turning red all over again.
"That’s what I thought." His lips narrowed to a disapproving little line, then he turned his attention back to my bandages. He dried and cleaned the wound, replaced the gauze, and bound it all back up again in a clean bandage. "Do try to keep this one dry, won’t you?"
"I’ll try. Sorry, doctor." I looked down, feeling a bit like a scolded child. He grunted, clearly not believing me, and hauled himself back to his feet with an audible creaking of joints. I rose as well and made to leave, but he stopped me with a gesture.
"I’ve prepared these for you in case you start ‘feeling ill’ again, I insist that you
begin taking these immediately." He shoved a scrappy box into my hand and stared at me sternly over his glasses. "One first thing in the morning, every morning, and do not miss a day."
"What?" I looked down, and then realised with a flash of distress what the box contained. "Oh."
Birth control medication.
"I don’t care what you and the boy get up to." His voice was snappish and abrupt. "I know you’re both young and full of energy and feel the need to go throwing yourselves around, but the last thing we need right now is for another one of our able bodies to be burdened with a pregnancy. And for the love of God, don’t waste them – the ingredients for these are getting very hard to come by."
I wanted to curl up in a corner and die of embarrassment.
"One, every day, at the same time." He repeated himself and held up a finger, like he didn’t expect me to understand what he was saying without it. "And do not miss a day."
"Doc, I don’t even… you know, get a ‘monthly’ anymore." I hesitated, feeling so uncertain that I didn’t know what to say. "I don’t think I can get pregnant, even if we were… you know. Not that we are."
Technically.
"Not yet, no. You’ve been too malnourished." He adjusted his glasses and hiked them back up on his nose. "Your body probably wouldn’t have the strength to support a foetus to full term just yet, but there’s always a chance – and there’s also the matter of miscarriages. Just take the pills. Better safe than sorry."
I nodded and fled from him, red as a beetroot.
He was right, of course – that was, if I ever got over my issues long enough to do anything that would put me at risk of getting pregnant. I didn’t want a child right now. I was in no position to care for one.
And I was just too fucking crazy for a baby. Nobody wants a psycho for a mum.
I deposited the box in my room and hobbled off towards the garaging area, intent on distracting myself with work. I got about halfway there before something else caught my attention: the sound of raised voices coming from the direction of Michael’s room.
"Tell me!" It was Skylar’s voice, and she sounded pissed.
The Survivors (Book 1): Summer Page 21