Page 33 of The World Undone

“The world is quite possibly ending,” she pressed on, “and I don’t know what’s going to happen. To any of us. You’re under a literal world’s worth of pressure, Max. But not from us. And I won’t speak for the guys, but I will say that all I want is you—however much you want to give. And I don’t just mean some caricature version of you that’s all sunshine and rainbows. I want your darkness as much as I want your light, your bad days as much as your good. I just want you as you are. You can’t mess that up.” She tilted her chin up, “You understand?”

I nodded, unable to form any sort of intelligible response.

“Sometimes it can feel wrong to be happy in light of everything. It’s hard to experience joy, desire, laughter, when there’s so much wrong in the world. But that’s when it’s most important.” She ran a hand through her long hair, and my eyes hungrily traced the way a few strands fell around the curve of her neck, her chest. I wanted to do the same with my fingers, with my tongue.

Her eyes sparked, like she felt that stray thought, even if she didn’t hear it out right. “Sometimes happiness can be its own form of resistance.” She grinned, brow arching. “At the very least, it gives us the stamina for the long run. A reason to keep going. This task we face is a marathon, not a sprint, Max. Don’t be afraid to lighten your load every once in a while—the rest of us will take turns carrying it.”

Her words ricocheted in my chest, carving their way in, making a home—completely impervious to my resistance.

“I have an idea.” A small grin curved the corner of her mouth. “Stay here, okay?”

I nodded, but otherwise didn’t move. As I watched the dust particles float above me, I heard the door open, the brief juggling of clanks in the small kitchenette, heard someone—maybe Eli—mumble something to her, before she responded with a soft “night mate,” closing the bedroom door behind her.

The light above me switched off, bathing the room in a dark gray haze, my vision blurring and adjusting to the sudden shift.

I heard Dec rustling through a drawer in the bedside table and sat up.

“What are you—” she pressed a finger to my lips, stopping the question before I could ask it.

Her eyes found mine and I could see a flash of excitement there.

She didn’t pull her finger from my mouth, and something about the silent darkness, her closeness, the image of her leaning over me, sent a wave of desire flaring through my body.

My tongue instinctively parted to lick my lips, and I tasted her finger.

She exhaled, her breath minty and cool as it swept over me. As if emerging from a trance, she cleared her throat and pulled her finger away.

“No questions,” she said, her voice filled with authority even in the soft whisper. The scratchy sound of a match striking turned into a sizzle as the soft glow of fire flared at her fingertips. “We’re going to get you out of that head of yours for a few minutes, push you back into your body.”

She set a small candle on the table, lighting it until the air around us was bathed in a soft glow. With a flick of her hand, the match went out, the soft smokey char curling in my nose. “Borrowed this from Mer. From a secret resource cabinet she showed me a few days ago—told me she keeps these stocked during the cold winter months.” A seductive grin curled her lips. “It’s body safe.”

“Wha—”

She lifted a black bandana between us, folded it over a few times, then pressed it to my eyes. My heart started to race as she tied it carefully at the back of my head, gentle but firm.

The coconut scent of the candle was so much stronger as my vision blurred to black.

I shivered as her hands swept my hair back behind my shoulders.

I bit my lip, but her thumb gently released it, the touch pulling a breathy shudder from me.

“Your only job right now is to relax,” she said, the soft sultry sound of her voice enough to make me clench my legs together. “We’re going to work on embracing some of that happiness I was talking about. See if we can’t pull you out of that doom spiral, okay? All of the bullshit, all of the challenges we face—those are tomorrow’s problems. Tonight it’s just us, just this. Do you trust me?”

I licked my lips and nodded, unable to find my voice.

“That’s my girl,” she whispered against my lips before hers ghosted briefly over mine in a soft kiss that sent a wave of flutters low in my belly. “If you want to stop at any time, just tell me. But until then, I only want you to focus on your body, on every sensation—on nothing else but that, okay?” She paused, waiting for me to respond, so I nodded again. “Just try to relax and just—be—okay?”

I nodded again. My nipples were already hard, my senses hyper alert, aware of her closeness and wanting it closer.

My heart beat like a rabid hummingbird in my chest—whether from nerves, excitement, or desire I couldn’t quite tell. Could she hear it in the heavy silence of the room? Even my breathing seemed desperately loud.

Slowly, her fingers found the hem of my shirt, and she lifted it up. I raised my arms above my head, allowing her to peel it off of me, the fabric grazing my skin in featherlight kisses. The soft strawberry scent of her favorite shampoo clouded my senses as she leaned over me. Gods, I didn’t think I’d ever tire of the smell of her—the way the soft scent blended with her natural sweetness.

The memory of the way she tasted had me salivating. It was like she’d been crafted from my deepest desires—desires I didn’t even know myself well enough to ask for—and then offered up to me.

When my shirt brushed against my sensitive lips, I gasped, as if she’d kissed me. My sports bra followed suit, my skin pebbling with every touch of the cool air.

As if aware of my sensitivity, she playfully licked the peak of my left nipple and then blew a soft breath, cooling it.

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