“It’s not like we can just hop a plane to Europe. It’s really dangerous out there.” Lucas shook his head, his eyebrows tangling into a deep frown. “And where would we even go? And how would we stay in contact with Logan?”
I opened my mouth only to close it, my chest deflating along with my excitement.“You’re right,” I replied mutely. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” Feeling the sudden urge to cry, I ducked my head back beneath the sleeping bag.
“Aw, come on, Will, don’t be like that—things will get better soon, I promise.”
“I’m fine,” I muttered from beneath the sleeping bag. “Just tired.”
Lucas fell quiet; several minutes passed in silence, the temperature inside my sleeping bag growing uncomfortably hot. Just when I thought I couldn’t take another stifling breath, Lucas suddenly got to his feet. As the door to the room clicked shut behind him, I shoved out of the sleeping bag. Glowering up at the ceiling, I wondered if Lucas was going to want to follow all of Logan’s ridiculous rules, leaving us trapped inside this hot, musty hellhole for however long it took for Logan to return.
The office door banged open and I shot upright; Lucas stood in the doorway, wearing only his boxers and untied boots, balancing what looked to be a cupboard door in his hand. He had a dirty dish towel draped over one arm and several hastily pulled wildflowers trapped between his teeth, the dirt-covered roots dangling near his chin.
“No, nmpo, waitmn, noj,” Lucas mumbled around the mouthful of flowers.
“What was that?” I laughed, grinning as he placed the cupboard door on my lap. Nestled into the cupboard’s decorative indentations,a handful of grapes and two chocolate cake rolls awaited me.
Pulling the flowers from his mouth, he held them out in offering. “Je m’appelle, Lucas,” he said, mimicking a French accent. “Tu t’appelle comment!”
“I have no idea what I just said,” Lucas continued. “It’s all I could remember from French class. It sounded fancy, though.”
Laughing, I raised the flowers to my nose. “I’m pretty sure you just asked me what my name is.”
He flashed me a suggestive smile, a single dimple popping in his left cheek. “Well, what is it?”
Tossing a grape in my mouth, I tapped a finger to my cheek. “Hmm—”
“No, don’t tell me!” he interrupted. “It’s Williemae, isn’t it? Yep, it’s Williemae—you look like a Williemae.”
“I most certainly do not!” I exclaimed, throwing a grape and hitting him square in the forehead. About to throw another, Lucas caught my hand and leaned over me, pressing a kiss to my lips.
“Guess what?” he whispered.
I smiled against his lips. “What?”
“Logan’s not here… so we don’t have to be quiet.”
“But didn’t he say, and I’m quoting here, tobe fucking quiet?”
Lucas chuckled. “Who’s gonna make us?”
“You rebel!” I laughed, shoving the tray aside.
We kissed eagerly; Lucas’s hands skimmed my sides before gently pushing me onto my back. Climbing over top of me, he hooked his fingers into the straps of my tank top, sliding them down my arms while trailing soft kisses across my neck and breasts. Tangling my fingers into his long waves, I closed my eyes.
This was Lucas in his purest form—gentle and loving and forever thinking of me. I swallowed hard, hoping that this one time he might be a little less gentle with me. That perhaps, instead of softly stroking the curve of my hip like he was, he would grab it, squeeze it even, and hold me still. Or maybe, instead of the way he was tenderly fusing our bodies together, he might roughly spin me around, his body colliding with mine in a heated frenzy.
Opening my eyes, I found Lucas looking down at me, his gaze filled with lustful adoration. “I love you,” he whispered, his lips splitting into a smile that was almost shy.
Swallowing back my desires, I cradled his head in my hands and pulled his mouth back to mine.
“How do you think they died?”
Swinging our legs to and fro, Lucas and I sat side by side on the tree branch that had grown through the master bedroom. Empty grapevines and torn cake roll wrappers cluttered the floor beneath our feet.
It had been two days since Logan’s departure, and after another lackluster search of the house and an unfortunate run-in with a wasp nest in the attic, we’d run out of things to do. I wasn’t complaining, though—I was more than content to bum around for a few days, and damn near ecstatic that Logan wasn’t here to bully us about it.
Gazing at the skeletal remains on the bed, Lucas chewed on his lip rings. “I don’t know. I’m betting they weren’t bitten.” He shrugged. “So maybe they were sick with something? Or maybe they stumbled across this place just like we did. Only when they got here they decided that they didn’t want to live in a world like this.”
“You haven’t ever thought aboutthat, have you?” I asked slowly.
