Page 220 of Rage

I pat the tiny couch cushion next to me. Normally, I prefer to be alone, but the way she takes up my space doesn’t put me on edge the way other people do.

I try to shut away the last time my body felt this way. There’s no use in living in the past when the present is fleeting. “If you want, I can sleep on this couch and you can take the bed. We can both fit on my bed, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Her nose scrunches up as she considers my offer, and it gives her a sweet, youthful appearance.

“If all you have are these tiny clothes, it’ll be cold. It’s smarter if we share body heat.” Ah, so she’s taking the scientific approach. I wonder if she also likes women. Most of us lie somewhere on the spectrum of sexuality. Would it be weird for me to mention?

“So, Jones was telling me you started all of this. How did you pull that off?”

I scoff. Everyone underestimates me because of my size, and that’s fine with me. I’m not the one six feet under.

“I think you need to work on your bedside manner, Doc.” I can’t help the smirk that grazes my lips. Again, color washes her cheeks and her eyes brighten in that sweet way.

“I’m sorry. I have only talked to the same person for three years, and I practically raised him. I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that you’re fairly petite, not that there’s anything wrong with that! You’re beautiful! Jones was talking about you taking out grown men, and it was crazy to me. Not that women aren’t powerful. Obviously, Iknowthat. I’m afeministthrough and through. You have all survived and-and—” A sharp inhale precedes her next bout of word vomit, so I hold up a single hand. Her mouth snaps shut, and she takes her bottom lip between her teeth.

Is it because she blushes so easily? Is it because she’s someone new? It has been ages since I’ve felt a shred of desire for another person; I just assumed I was asexual now. But sitting close to her warm body makes me wonder what if? What if I had someone to come home to? I rub at the pain blooming in my chest and battle the rush of loneliness that threatens to escape.

“I did what I had to do to survive. It was hard, but I couldn’t sit by and watch as they murdered innocent women, or worse.”

“Is there something worse than death?” Davey asks, unconsciously edging closer to me the more we speak. From here, I can smell the slight lavender scent of my shampoo wafting off her long curls.

“Yeah, Davey. We’re living it.” I don’t like to think about what’s worse. Everyone has this fairy tale that death is some all-encompassing blackness that extinguishes life and leaves your consciousness in a vacuous space, drifting for all eternity. That’s a walk in the park compared to living. The grit and nerve we all have, the determination to make it through another scorchingsunrise. No, death is simple. What they did to me, I welcomed death every second. But death is cowardly and only sneaks up on you when it’s good and ready, a slave to none and a master to all.

I remove my butterfly knife from my pocket and swing it open and closed. The repetitive actions help me find a meditative state where I can have conversations with normal people. Because that is so alluring about Davey: she’s normal. She was alone with a sibling since society crumbled, locked into a bubble of safety. She probably lived in that cave insulated from the surrounding devastation.

“Look. I know that life is different now for everyone. But what you’ve created here? It’s powerful. You should be proud.” Her smile is warm, and I am having a tough time returning the gesture. When is the last time I’ve felt the heat of another body, the warmth of a genuine smile? “I haven’t even seen everything but, from what Jones mentioned, you’re a leader here and I’m happy to help your compound in any way I can. I can be useful again. Honestly, I miss the hustle and bustle of delivering. There are no births at the end of the world.” Her eyes look right through me, and a familiar darkness looks back out at me.

A familiar chill runs up my spine, leaving my skin feeling tight. The knife flips faster in my hand as I count my breaths methodically. As the icy blade closes in on itself, a hand closes around my fist, holding it steady. My eyes shoot up to Davey, who is smiling at me with those warm chocolate eyes, defrosting the ice around my heart. For a second, there is no sound, only the rhythmic dance of our breaths as they ease in and out.

“You—you could have hurt yourself!” I say as I stand, and she drops my hand.

“Relax. I have fantastic reflexes, and even if I hurt myself, I’m a doctor, remember? I can patch myself up.” She offers her smiles up so easily. Why is she always smiling?

Before I can stop myself, my hand reaches forward and grasps her chin between my fingers. As I tilt her face up to mine, the smile falls from her face.

“Don’t take your safety lightly. You’re one of my people now. We are a team here, so we all contribute and we all follow the orders that keep us safe. Do you understand?” It’s too harsh. It’s too much. She has been through so much tonight, but I can’t stand the idea of her being so cavalier about this. It’s my job to keep everyone safe, and that includes her now.

I expect her to shove me away, maybe a slap to my hand or face while she’s at it. What I don’t expect is the hazy way her pupils expand and her mouth parts for me. I don’t expect her breathing to be heavier while my eyes trail down the long expanse of her neck. When they catch the soft swells of her breasts, her nipples pebble against the thin fabric.

Oh, fuck.

She nods, her chin still captured between my fingers. “I understand,” she whispers. It would be so easy to tilt my head down and feel those soft lips with my own. The easy way she understands, the delicious way she stares up at me. It’s addicting. I can’t afford to mess around with anyone, let alone someone we just brought in, so I release my fingers and take a step back from her, back into the coldness of the cabin. Maybe Ishouldsleep on the couch tonight.

Before I mention it, she stands and stretches her long body towards the ceiling with a yawn. I drink in the smooth expanse of her skin, the way her top grazes the swells of her breasts. Those fucking nipples are just staring at me, and I’m trying my hardest not to drool, or reach out and tug.

Shaking my head, I take the hint. “Right. You must be exhausted. The bedroom's over here.” A sincere smile lights up her face, and I know for a fact that I will not sleep tonight.

Chapter Four

DAVEY

The bed is soft below me, cradling my body, and even though there’s a chill in the air, my body is burning up. Next to me, Lenora, sound asleep, rests her face on her hands, her petite body facing mine. My fists clench as I let out a frustrated sigh. It’s all I can do to not turn to the side and stare at the way her perfect tits just squeeze together, almost bursting from the small tank top. I can’t stop from glancing over every five minutes and praying that she moves just a little so that, perhaps, one falls right out of its confines. Such easy access. What was I thinking, agreeing to share a bed?

You were thinking you want her to sit on your face.

I groan then shoot a glance her way to make sure I didn’t accidentally say that out loud. Then, I throw my arm over my eyes. Fuck it. If she’s asleep, I can handle this quickly. With one last glance towards her lax face, my hands trail over my skin—one down to the wet spot in between my legs and the other to squeeze and pluck at my nipples that are begging for attention at the moment. Even the tiny clothes she gave me are turning me on. Is it sick to think that her body was in these clothes at one point? That her pussy was exactly where mine is now? A pleasurable shiver wracks my body at the thought.

Wetness coats my thighs, and I make a mental note to take another shower when I wake up. These underwear are ruined. When and where can I wash my clothes? Shaking my head, I focus on the task ahead. My eyelids slide shut, and I take my bottom lip between my teeth to muffle my moan as I circle my throbbing clit.

Her pink and brown hair is splayed out on the bed underneath me, and the dripping pussy in my hand isn’t mine. I conjure that vicious and possessive gleam in her eyes, only for me. My tongue makes a path to her chest so I can taste her skin. Her body bows as I lave her nipples with attention.

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