“Am I hurting you?” Eva asked, all too aware of her still-throbbing ankle hanging off the cot behind her and how it underscored every moment of pleasure. Arthur was in even worse shape.
“No.”
“Because we could slow down,” Eva said, worried now.
“If you want,” Arthur panted.
When Eva lifted her body and dragged it against his, Arthur let out a long groan. When she did it again, he seized her by the hips. “Ev,” he begged. “Please, tell me. Doyouwant to slow down?”
“No,” she whimpered.
Arthur slipped a hand between her legs, his fingers gliding over the front of the boxers. A shock of pleasure stole her breath. Eva covered his hand with one of her own, guiding him to the place she wanted. Arthur nodded in understanding. It was an agonizingly slow reacquainting, and Eva thought she might die from the relief of it, and from the way his focus narrowed on the sparest details as he learned, anew, what she wanted.
“Fuck,” Arthur whispered, dropping his face into the crook of her neck.
Eva clung to him, rendered speechless by the promise of relief building inside her, only to retreat again.
Arthur tugged at her waistband. “Please. Let me take these off.”
And Eva realizedthiswas the groveling she wanted. Arthur’simpatient desire made her feel strong, wholly in charge of her own body and the pleasure she took from his touch. She lifted her hips and let him pull the boxers down her legs, savoring the pressure of his hands on her skin.
Her body hummed at the return of his fingers to where she needed him most. She was silk to a flame, her fibers undone. She was honeycomb under a heated knife, her spine arching as she melted against him.
When Arthur sucked the delicate spot beneath her ear, his exhale hot on her skin, Eva gasped.
Her climax crashed through her like a tide against the shore. She moaned in gratitude as Arthur kept kissing her neck, her jaw, all the while working his fingers inside her until the bliss faded to a distant ache, and she slackened against him.
A better goodbye.
Arthur gathered her close. He still burned, a steady fever hiking ever higher. When Eva licked her lips, tasting salt, she realized her cheeks were wet. A little more tension fell away, and she thought for a moment that it would be so cleansing to cry all the grief out.
But the pressure of Arthur’s embrace chased away her desire to weep. Eva slumped against him, wholly wrung out. She took great pleasure in feeling the spread of goose bumps rising at her touch. “Well. We definitely didn’t slow down,” she murmured.
Arthur barked a laugh that made Eva’s chest feel warm and bright.
He should always laugh like that.
When the pain in her ankle outweighed the temptation to stay wrapped in his arms, Eva extracted the pretzel her limbs had made around him and slid off the cot, her muscles warm and tired.
Her eyes had adjusted a bit to the dark. The storm grew more boisterous outside. A clap of thunder boomed directly over their heads. Bug let out a yowl.
“Hang on,” Eva said softly to the kitten, kneeling on the floor beside the cot again and blindly sweeping her hand under the bed frame. A mistake. Bug swiped in alarm.
“Ow!” Eva drew her hand back and sucked the wounded skin. “Sorry, girl.”
“She scratched you?” Arthur asked.
Eva nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see. “Yeah. She seems scared of the storm.” She bent, more cautiously this time, squinting into the deep shadows under the cot. When lightning flashed, Eva caught a glimpse of movement: Bug pressed into the corner.
She saw something else under the bed as well. Eva frowned and reached to glide her fingertips along the straight, smooth edge of the object she’d missed before. It was some kind of… box? No. Her thumb caught the cool edge of a metal latch on the side. A trunk?
“I think I found something.”
Eva hauled the trunk out, the bottom scraping loudly against the floor. Bug jumped, yowling in protest. Eva undid the heavy latch, and the lid came unstuck with an audible crackle, the wood groaning as she lifted the top free. The smell of must and old, worn canvas filled her nose. Eva recognized it, flashing in an instant to the camping trips she’d taken with Dad and Izzy growing up.
“What is it?” Arthur asked.
Eva reached inside, fumbling as she tried to make out the items. Her fingers closed around a cool metal cylinder. She huffed a laugh and held up a flashlight in triumph. “Supplies!”
