by Eve Langlais
“I don’t think you can tell me what I want or don’t want. Because I will tell you right now, I want to kiss you.”
“Kiss me?” The memory of fetid breath and sloppy smears had her cringing.
“You just thought of that asshole, didn’t you?” He sounded angry. “Don’t ever flinch from me, sweetheart. I would never do anything you didn’t want.”
“I don’t see the appeal,” she admitted honestly.
“Because you haven’t kissed me.”
“You think you’re that special?” For some reason, he made it easy to flirt. It helped she kept her hand on the hilt of her knife.
“I’d like to be. Would you let me kiss you?”
“I don’t know.” A soft admission of the truth. She wanted him to and didn’t.
“Would it help if you controlled what happens?”
“Meaning?”
He purred softly. “You kiss me.”
“Me?” The very idea flummoxed and teased. “I don’t know how.” The admission of her naivety made her cheeks burn.
“You are killing me here,” he groaned. “Tell you what. You do what you want. I’ll sit on my hands so you feel safe. I won’t touch you.” He shifted and placed them under his rump.
Except, she kind of wanted him to touch her. She stared at him. He leaned toward her.
She almost met him. Instead, she turned aside. “I am not going to kiss you. Nor do I want to.” A lie because she wondered how his mouth would feel. It was the one area that didn’t have any cream on it.
“Then don’t kiss me.” He shrugged. “The choice is yours.”
Choice. There he was again with that titillating word. Before she could think twice about it, she pressed her mouth quickly to his and pulled away. He didn’t move.
“I did it.” She’d kissed him. And it wasn’t unpleasant at all. It wasn’t much of anything, but her heart still pounded.
Gunner chuckled. “That was barely a kiss, sweetheart. You’re supposed to move your lips over mine.”
She heard the taunt. “I don’t see why. Mouths are for talking and eating.”
“They can also feel good if touched the right way.”
“Are you claiming I did it wrong?” she retorted.
“You kissed me like a grandmother pecks a child. A real kiss involves the sensual slide of lips and tongues.”
“I don’t see the difference.”
“Try it and see,” he cajoled.
“You’re bossy.” But lucky for him, she was curious.
She moved back in and slanted her mouth against his, sliding her flesh along his, feeling a strange warm shiver between her legs. Then a spurt of heat when his mouth tugged her bottom lip.
“I thought you weren’t moving,” she whispered into his mouth.
“Only my hands, sweetheart. Mouth is fair game.”
With that, he showed her a real kiss. Showed her how it could feel to sensually engage in a lip dance of soft strokes, sucks, nibbles, and mingled breath. The first touch of his tongue against hers had her straddling his lap, fingers gripping his shoulders, deepening the embrace. Moaning into his mouth.
She ground herself against him, lost in the kiss, feeling an exquisite pressure pulsing between her legs.
Demanding something.
Hungering.
Needing.
Hiss.
She froze at the sound. In a heartbeat, she’d pulled her knife. Before she could stab in the darkness, he rolled out from under her. She heard another hiss, a grumble, then a grunt, followed by an end to the hissing.
“It’s dead,” he softly announced.
The statement brought Sofia to her senses.
What was she doing? Indulging in distraction when they might be in serious trouble.
How dare she enjoy herself?
She could almost hear the Enclave in that thought. A low-level citizen like herself wasn’t allowed much time or opportunity to do something just for the pleasure of it
He returned to her, his hands reaching, but she slipped out of his grasp. No more distractions.
“Good job killing the slither,” she stated.
He sighed. “I take it the kiss is over?”
“It was nice,” she felt compelled to reply.
“Nice?”
She smiled at the disgruntled tone. No point in telling him he was right. A proper kiss did feel good. “We should take turns sleeping. I’ll take first watch.”
“I—”
“Sleep.” She blew the sleeping dust at him and caught his upper body as he slumped. She lay him gently on the floor but, rather than move away, snuggled against his body. He’d never know given his unconscious state, but she was very aware. The spot between her legs throbbed. Her lips tingled.
Maybe, just maybe, she should accept his offer to make a baby via actual intercourse. She found him a lot more appealing than anyone else she’d ever met.
It would be a shame if he forced her to kill him.
She must have fallen asleep listening for danger, because when she woke, it was to find herself splayed atop him, his arms loosely circling her, and sunlight peeking through the hole.
When she stirred, he rumbled, “Morning, sweetheart.”
His body felt hard and hot and perfect. It almost gave her enough reason to start another kiss. Instead, she moved away. “We should see if we had any soldiers visit last night.”
“Good thing none did considering you drugged me.”
“You were being difficult.”
“What if we’d been attacked?” he countered.
“I’d have handled it.”
He snorted. “Handled it how? With a knife against armor? How well do you think that would go?”
“I don’t know but keep shouting because if they’re here they’ve already heard us,” she hissed.
“You’re being this way because of the kiss last night.”
“That kiss meant nothing to me.” But it did draw her gaze to his mouth. The skin on his face looked much improved this morning. All of him looked—
“You are such a liar.” He huffed the word.
“And you’re conceited if you’re going to imply it meant something.”
“It did.” Said in a low tone.
How did he know? Or was he just guessing? “We don’t have time for this.”
“You will make time to discuss that kiss. Better yet, maybe you should finish it.” The soft burr of the words managed to bring a shiver.
“What do you mean, finish it?” She couldn’t stop herself from saying it.
His reply brushed hotly over her mouth. “There’s only one way to end a kiss properly.”
“With a baby in my belly.”
Eight
She went from embarrassed to winning the battle between them. The mention of a baby shriveled his ardor. Gunner wasn’t sure he was ready for that. And she knew it. Somehow, she’d grasped his reluctance.
Bravo. He admired how she’d flipped that around because, a moment ago, he could have almost grabbed hold of her embarrassment it was so thick. Better than grabbing her throat to wring it.
Once more, she’d put him to sleep. One word, a bit of dust, and poof. He passed out hard. If they’d been attacked, he’d have never known. It angered and frightened all at once.
Gunner would, however, admit to enjoying waking up underneath Sofia. She’d chosen to snuggle him, and while not one to share his resting spots, the feel of her against him pleased.
It also made him hornier than fuck. His cock throbbed, all too easily remembering the kiss and grind of the night before.
He couldn’t have said if it was the fact he could only rely on some of his senses, but that kiss rocked him. Shook him. Made him want this woman more than anything he’d ever desired.
Pity she didn’t appear to feel the same way. He couldn’t blame her. She might have glossed over the abuse of the man she’d killed, but he wasn’t stupid. He was well aware of the depravity some people indulged in. It k
illed him to know she’d been sorely hurt.
But he’d say the kiss they shared might have helped her realize not all men were the same. Or not.
She snapped her fingers. “Are you coming or waiting for me to check things out first?”
“I’m coming.” Just not in a way that would make his dick soften.
His face felt much better this morning, the insane itching gone, the bruising on his body less intense. A quick pass of fingers over his features showed the swelling gone, but he didn’t dare tug at the fabric over his eyes. Not yet. The orbs still throbbed.
She paused, and he bumped into the back of her. She whispered, “It doesn’t look like anyone came by.”
She shuffled forward before he could reply, and he quickly followed, a knife already in hand, just in case. But he emerged to hear her crooning to her cat.
“There you are, and you brought us breakfast. Good Kitty.”
A kitty who wanted all the attention, as she slammed into him next, hard enough he stumbled into a wall. Two big paws landed on his shoulders, and a raspy tongue licked at his face.
“I’m going to guess this is her way of saying good morning,” he said, letting the cat lick him. It seemed safer than fighting her off.
“She also likes the purple herb in the lotion on your face.”
“Nice to know I’m wearing her favorite seasoning,” he grumbled. Before he had a chance to escape, the cat shifted away from him and made a sound.
“Meowr.”
“What’s that mean?”
Sofia snorted. “As if I know. But if I had to guess, given she just pawed the fish she brought, I think she’s hungry.”
So was he. Sofia headed outside, and he followed, inhaling the damp morning air, only to wrinkle his nose a moment later at the acrid stench of smoke. She’d started a fire.
“Is it wise to announce our presence?” he asked.
“One, we have no idea if there are more soldiers. Two, I am not eating raw fish. So stand guard while I cook.”
He almost chuckled at the command, but he also took it seriously. He practiced his pacing, keeping count in his head as he did a small perimeter check, Kitty close by his side. In a playful mood, apparently, given she kept rubbing into his thighs and making odd noises.
When the feline abandoned him, he headed back for Sofia in time for her to chide the cat. “Don’t eat it yet. It’s still too hot.”
“It smells delicious.” His taste buds watered at the fragrant aroma of cooked meat.
“Come here and I’ll give you some.” Funny how he didn’t exactly need her voice to be tuned in to her location.
He moved toward her and only stopped when her hand hit his chest. “Any further and you’ll be sizzling on the fire. Sit.” She gently shoved him sideways, and when his legs hit a rock, he sat down hard.
“Hold out your hand.”
“You’re bossy,” he stated.
Sofia was back to her brusque self as if their intimacy in the night never happened.
“Because I’m hungry, but I can’t eat until I’ve fed you.”
“I can feed myself, thanks.” The leaf in his palm heated with the food she’d put on it.
As they ate, he began to think of their next step. “We need to find out if there are any more soldiers.”
“How about I leave you out here as bait?” she teased.
“Not a bad plan, but that means sitting around and waiting for them to come find us. Not to mention, we have the same weapon problem as yesterday. We need something better than a knife and a broken gun.”
“You think I don’t know that? I am well aware my knife won’t even scratch their armor.”
“The plated parts are too tough,” he agreed. “You have to go after the joints. The flexible material is softer there.”
“That’s actually good to know, even if it requires me getting too close. Once was enough, thank you.”
He cringed. “I am sorry it took me so long to act.”
“It’s not your fault but mine for being so complacent. I’ll know to be more careful from here on out.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve scavenged any round discs? Usually dark gray in color, about this big.” He held out his fingers.
“I found one, but it was broken. What is it?”
“EMP pulse disk. They’re ideal for incapacitating and stripping soldiers out of the suits.”
“I’ve only ever fought one soldier before, and he didn’t have the armor. The other men who came here by accident previously were citizens who’d escaped.”
“I’m all too familiar with soldiers,” he said with a grimace. “I wish I didn’t have to fight them, but they’ve been after me and those I call family my entire life.”
“Why? Why do they chase you?” she asked, her voice closer.
“Because they’re Enclave.”
“How is that an answer?”
He wished he could see her face because he couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not. “Given our discussions, you obviously know of them. And if I remember correctly, you’re from a city.”
“Why does it matter?”
“It matters because, depending on your class, you’re kept more ignorant than others. Some of the most sheltered Enclave citizens are the sawrs. They actually think sex is against the law.”
“It’s not encouraged in the cities, either,” she noted.
“No, but according to you, it still happens, and do people get punished for it?”
She shook her head.
“Creche sawrs are not allowed physical intimacy of any kind. Not even hugs. They believe all children are born in gestational tanks.”
“Surely they can’t actually be that ignorant,” she exclaimed.
“They are according to one I met recently. Laura’s been learning a lot about what the Enclave claims and what the truth is.”
“The truth is they’re liars,” she remarked, the words bitten off and terse.
“At least you’re aware. How did they lie to you?”
“Shall I list the ways? Starting with the fact the air outside the dome is not poisonous as they claimed. Not that I knew it when they banished me to the Wasteland wearing nothing but a gown. I didn’t even have any shoes.”
“You said before that a citizen lied about you attacking. Did you not have a chance to refute the claim?”
“At my trial, Jezebel spun a story of being a victim. A ridiculous fabrication that was believed even though there was video proof of her starting the altercation that showed I acted in self-defense, but no one cared.”
“That’s not a trial,” he stated.
“No, it wasn’t. They’d already decided to convict me for the entertainment of the crowd,” she said softly, and he felt her sit beside him on the rock. “The thing that galls most is I used to be one of those spectators who cheered when they banished the guilty.”
“At least you survived.”
“Against all odds. Up until that point, I’d spent my entire life inside a dome. I went from a Creche right into the home of my master.”
“Who was a pharmacist.”
“Apothecary.”
“What’s the difference?”
“We make all of our remedies by hand specific to the client.”
He couldn’t help but remember the heat both times she applied the lotion to his face. “Then you infuse your stuff with magic to make it more potent.”
“Magic? Don’t be ridiculous,” she said too quickly.
Could he be mistaken? “Is it normal to feel heat when you apply it?”
“It’s a component reaction.”
“It was already mixed and didn’t heat until after being on my skin.”
“Your skin is the last ingredient.” The reply was weak, and it was clear she knew it.
“You’ve heard of magic.” He changed the direction of the conversation.
“Who hasn’t? People see magic in the simple things. Even sleight of hand can seem like magic if you bel
ieve.”
“You’re skeptical.”
“Aren’t you?” she replied. “Don’t we know by now that things that seem like magic end up based in fact? The histories show—”
“What histories?” he asked with curiosity. “What do you know of our past?”
“I’ve come across many works that form a pretty clear picture of our past, before the Meteor Fall.”
“Before? You saw these? With your own eyes?” The domes had a few advantages, one of them being knowledge of their past to draw on. Transient Wastelanders tended to start over often enough that they didn’t really put down roots or accumulate things like books. Although his friend Titan—who’d gone missing—had made a point of searching out stories, especially the older ones.
She spoke of these books as if they were an ordinary everyday thing. “I’ve seen pictures of the past and been able to compare them to now. I’ve read books, old and new. The lifestyle described is vastly different from today.”
“Where did you get the books?”
“The Library of course.”
“You really are from a city,” he said softly. “I’ve never met anyone who left the city before.”
“You forget, I didn’t leave voluntarily,” she said with a snort.
“Do you miss it?
“Yes!” she exclaimed. “I miss the safety of it some days when I get lonely and something scares me. But…” Her voice softened. “There is something to be said about being answerable only to myself.”
“Which is the very definition of freedom.”
“How would you know? You’re not free. You said you lived in some place called Haven. Which means you follow someone else’s rules.”
“I do. But gladly. Axel is a good man. Hates being in charge but he’s damned good at it. I know he’s ready to hand it off. He keeps hoping we’ll find a place we can call our own.”
“A hard task. The domes don’t take people in.”
“I know,” he drawled. “They like to know the lineage of all their citizens. Although I’m sure they make exceptions for people with the right kind of magic.”