Love in the Time of the Dead (26 page)

BOOK: Love in the Time of the Dead
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“I have a request,” he said in a slow, deep voice.

“And what’s that?” she asked through a lazy smile.

“Tonight I want you to call me by my name. Say it.”

“Mitchell,” she whispered stubbornly.

He leaned down and came within a breath of her lips. He twined his fingers through her hair. “Say it,” he growled.

She pursed her lips and shook her head slightly.

He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her in the barest of ways. His touch was so light she’d swear she dreamed it in the morning. She wanted more. Needed more. He pulled back, teasing.

“Please,” she whispered as an acute desperation to keep his body close to hers brimmed inside of her.

He ran a feather-soft finger down the side of her arm. She hadn’t the strength to take her gaze away from his lips. The game was through.

“Derek,” she said softly, the enunciation odd against her tongue.

He smiled for only a second before his lips were on hers. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t ask her permission. He took her lips and demanded she kiss him back as she’d never before kissed a man. His arms wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her to him in a crushing embrace. The pain brought her pleasure, and she whispered his name again with a ragged breath.

He groaned deeply in his throat and picked her up with ease. When her back was against the wall, he crushed his weight against her and kissed her desperately. She was empowered. How could such an untamed and masculine creature want her so much? She bit his lip gently, and he responded by hugging her body even more tightly to himself.

Someone banged on the other side of the adjoining wall. “Pipe down!” an angry voice shouted.

They froze and looked at the wall in question for a split second before they started chuckling softly. She hadn’t even considered the thin walls. She’d been too enthralled with the velvet touch of his skin and utterly lost in the moment.

Mitchell raked his fingers down her side, ever careful of her injuries, and leaned his forehead against hers. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, looking deeply into her eyes as if they would provide the answer.

For one of the first times in her life, she wasn’t afraid. She didn’t have to put on a brave face for anyone. He could’ve seen right through her if she had. “I need this. I need you.”

A slow smile pulled at his lips. It was happy, and calm, and adoring. “Okay,” he whispered.

He picked her up and set her gently on his bed. The covers were warm and soft, and the glow from the stove in the corner let off a soft light, tossing gently rolling shadows across his bare skin. He took his time, caressing her body and making an effort to adore every part of her. Only when she was completely satiated did he give in to his own needs.

Laney smiled lazily at Mitchell as he traced her peacock tattoo lightly with his finger. He was lying on his side and propped up on one elbow, and in the dim candlelight, she had an impeccable view of the muscular planes of his chest and stomach. She lay on her front with her arms serving as a pillow as he stroked her back.

“Do you remember the night you got this tattoo?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“How could I ever forget? It hurt like hell.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and resonating. “Yeah, before the outbreak this tattoo would’ve taken three sittings. But after the outbreak people had to be tougher and more flexible. Plus your tattoo artist could’ve died the next day and then you’d be stuck with a half done peacock.”

“Exactly.”

He frowned thoughtfully as the candlelight flickered across his face. “Do you remember anything else about that night?”

Was he being shy with his words? She thought back to the night they’d found a tattoo artist in one of the colonies. It had been scary times back then, and she’d wanted something beautiful done in the midst of all of the suffering. She’d still believed beauty existed out there, and she chose the peacock to remind her of that. “I remember I wanted to drink before I had it done, but you and Jarren wouldn’t let me. You said it would make me bleed easier.”

The ghost of her brother wavered in his sad smile.

“I remember you and Guist got tattoos too. He got an outline of a dragon on his arm and you—” she squinted again at the small script tattoo on his ribcage, only partially visible “—probably just tattooed your own name on yourself.”

He laughed. “Not quite.”

She propped herself up and eyed the tattoo. She’d never seen it this close and was surprised when he rolled slightly toward her to let her have a better view. It was a set of numbers, and she squinted to read them in the shadows.

“06-03-18?” she asked him in confusion.

He nodded but didn’t explain.

“June third,” she mumbled to herself. “Eighteen was two years ago. What was so important two years ago?”

“It was the day we got the tattoos,” he said seriously.

“You got a tattoo of the day you got a tattoo?” she asked. “Your name would’ve been less douchey than that.”

“Do you remember anything else about that night?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not anything big.”

“It probably wasn’t big to you, but it was kind of huge to me. Do you remember holding my hand when you were getting yours done?”

Her heart skittered uncomfortably, and she sat up. This conversation was headed nowhere good. She pulled the blanket over her chest and huddled into herself.

The corner of his mouth twitched and a slight frown came over his features, but he pushed on. “That was the first time you let me hold your hand without trying to slap me, or punch me, or curse me out. You held my hand for hours. You leaned on me. I’d liked you for years, but that was the first day I knew I was done for. You were it for me. It was the day I knew I would compare every woman in my life to you and none would match up.”

“Mitchell, stop,” she whispered in horror. “I can’t do this right now. You’ve had years to tell me this, and you tell me now? Tonight?”

Panic seized her. She wanted to be casual about what had just happened between them. That idea seemed laughable to her after all was said and done. How could it be that the unmanageable Derek Mitchell was the one having trouble with a casual night together and she wasn’t? She jumped up and bolted for her pile of clothes on the floor.

“I don’t understand,” he said softly. “What was this to you?”

“Mitchell—”

“Don’t call me that!”

“It’s your name.”

“It’s my last name! The guys call me that. Acquaintances call me that. You can’t call me that after what we just did. Why do you think I’m trying to piss you off all the time? You only call me Derek when you’re mad at me. I breathe for that stupid word on your lips.”

“Look, I just wanted you to treat me like one of your other colony girls,” she pleaded as she pulled her pants on.

Mitchell stood, completely unconcerned with his lack of clothing. His hand hung in the air between them. “What does that even mean?”

“It means I thought you could be unaffected by this like you are with every other woman you take to bed!”

“How many women do you think I’ve taken to bed?” His eyes flashed dangerously, and his cheeks grew redder by the second.

“Forget it,” she said.
Backpedal. Backpedal!

“No! I really am curious. How many?”

“I don’t know. Two dozen? Give or take.”

Mitchell shook his head slightly and pulled back like he’d been slapped. He laughed and then ran his hands through his hair until he could talk again. “Two. I’ve slept with two women since the outbreak, and that was just because I was so damned lonely watching you pine for Adam. I waited for years for you to see that what you wanted, what you needed, was right in front of you the whole time.”

She shook her head in denial. How could he have been hiding all this emotion for so long? “I’m not even your type! I see the girls hanging all over you at the colonies. The only ones you give attention to are frail. Sweet. Weak. I’m none of those things!”

“And why is it, do you think, it’s so easy for me to leave them when it is time? Hell, I even told most of them I belong to someone else. I know it’s stupid. I know it is! But when I brought those girls around it was to see if you’d get jealous. And you never did—until Vanessa. And then you came in tonight.” He paused, his voice softening. “You came in tonight and it was everything I’ve waited for and more than I could’ve imagined.”

He held his hands out pleadingly, as if he were begging her to understand. Begging her to return his feelings. She couldn’t. Her feelings were unreadable, a jumbled mass of hurt and disappointment and hope all rolled into three different men’s names. Adam, Sean, Mitchell. It was too much. She needed time and space to sort everything out.

“I can’t. I can’t right now, Mitchell.”

“Please don’t call me that,” he whispered.

Her heart was in her throat. It was too much information on top of her confused feelings for other men. How could she tell him what he wanted to hear when she’d come to him out of anger over another? He’d find out and never forgive her and she wouldn’t expect him to.

“I need some time,” she said, dragging her face away from the disappointment on his. She pulled on her shirt and walked out of his room, more broken than when she’d entered it.

Chapter Seventeen

A T
HUNDEROUS
K
NOCK
on her door woke her early.

“Laney!” Eloise shouted excitedly.

She opened the door, uncaring that she was in her underwear and tank top once again. Sooner rather than later, she really needed to get to the general store and spend some of her hard-earned money on flannel pajamas.

Eloise’s bright eyes focused on Laney’s hair, and with one side of her lip curled she said, “Ugh!”

Laney swung the door wider for her to enter and padded off toward the sink as Eloise danced into the room and plopped onto the bed.

Laney brushed her teeth at the sink as Eloise talked.

“I guess I have you to thank,” she said.

At Laney’s confused look, she continued. “Guist told me you and Mitchell needed some privacy so he came and spent the night in my room.” Eloise waited with a frozen, open-mouthed grin. “Did you hear me? I said he spent the night in my room!”

Laney spit her toothpaste and rinsed her mouth. She wasn’t responding well, but her own encounter of that nature had left her raw. Being reminded of it first thing in the morning hadn’t been on her to-do list for the day. Time to rally. She smiled in apology and sat on the bed. She hadn’t had a close girlfriend in so long and was rusty at girl talk. “How was it?” she asked, hoping the question wasn’t too weird. Apparently it wasn’t.

“Amazing,” Eloise sang. “He was so sweet and gentle with me. And he told me he loved me. Not even before or during. He said it afterward, when he could have just left instead.”

Laney tried to maintain an interested smile. The same thing had basically happened to her the night before too.

“So, Mitchell, huh?” Eloise said, elbowing her smartly in the arm and waggling her eyebrows. “We’re some very lucky girls.” Eloise must’ve read something worrisome in her face because she stopped mid-elbow. “Oh, sweetie. What happened?”

“El, I messed up so bad with him.” Laney told her what had happened, and about her mixed-up feelings with Sean. She told her what Mitchell had said to her and how she’d panicked and hadn’t been able to sleep for hours thinking about him and his unexpected confession.

“I’m sure he understands about you needing time. That was a lot to put on you when you didn’t expect it. How are you feeling about everything this morning?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t even really processed it all. It’s like, this relationship I thought I knew for all of these years wasn’t what I thought at all. I used to be infatuated with him when I was in high school. Every girl was, and he was older, and hung out with my brother, and all of that made him really attractive to me. But then I met Adam and my heart hasn’t been open since. Not until recently when I threw it at Sean.” She fidgeted with the edge of her blanket. “I have no idea how to handle this. I know I feel something for Mitchell. Something bigger than I’d like to admit, but is it partly because of this perfect night we spent together? Intimacy is so new and confusing to me. And even if it isn’t only that, how can I tell him about any of what I’m feeling for him until I get all of my feelings sorted out with Sean?”

BOOK: Love in the Time of the Dead
8.26Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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