“I’ve been alone a long time,” she said. “I got used to it. Told myself I preferred it. Safer that way.” Her breath was warm onmy lips. “Then you showed up, and you made me remember what it felt like to want something.”
“What do you want?”
“You.” Simple. Direct. “I want you, Kallum. Not because you’re here or because we might die tomorrow. Because when you look at me, I feel like you really see me. Not what I can do for you, not what I survived, just... me.”
I kissed her.
She made a soft sound against my mouth. Her body pressed into mine, her weight settling against my chest, and I drew her in until she was straddling my lap on the kitchen table. The position put pressure on my wound. I didn’t care.
Her mouth opened under mine. She tasted like coffee and something sweeter underneath, and I wanted to map every corner of her, learn her the way I’d learned the farm’s defenses, thoroughly and completely.
My hands found the hem of her shirt. I paused there, a question.
“Yes,” she breathed against my mouth.
I pulled the fabric up, over her head. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Small breasts, darker nipples, a scar across her ribs that I’d ask about later.
She reached for my shirt, then stopped.
“The stitches,” she said.
“I don’t care about the stitches.”
“I do.” But she was smiling now, a real smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. “You’re going to pop them if we keep this up.”
“Worth it.”
“Kallum.”
I kissed her again instead of answering. Slower this time. Deeper. Her hips rocked against mine and I felt myself harden, felt her notice, felt her smile against my mouth.
The proximity alarm screamed.
We jerked apart. She was off my lap and reaching for her rifle before the sound finished registering, and I was right behind her, ignoring the flare of pain from my side.
“Perimeter two,” she said, checking the console. “East approach.”
I grabbed my weapon. Moved toward the door.
“Wait.” She was staring at the screen, frowning. “The signature’s wrong. Too small for a person. Too slow.”
We waited. I covered the door while she watched the monitors. The adrenaline had nowhere to go, pounding through me with no outlet.
“Wildlife,” she said finally. “One of the ridge cats, probably. Hunting in the fields.” She let out a breath, lowered her rifle. “False alarm.”
The silence that followed was thick with everything we’d been interrupted from.
She looked at me. I looked at her. Her shirt was still on the floor. Her hair was wild from my hands.
“When this is over,” I said.
“What?”
“When we’ve dealt with the reinforcements. When we’re not waiting for the next alarm.” I crossed to her. Touched her face the way I’d wanted to for days. “I want to finish this. Properly.”
“And if we don’t survive that long?”
“Then I’ll die wanting something worth wanting.”
