Love and Decay, Episode Eleven Page 6

  Was that putting a whole lot of expectation on losing my v-card- an experience that would probably involve pain and maybe not the most satisfying experience according to legend? Yes, absolutely. But that was my choice, my decision to hold this special. And it was one of the only things I had left.

  Kane and Hendrix had been right about confessing those three little words. I needed to say “I love you” to Hendrix. And I needed to hear that from him.

  But sex was different. Hopefully loving each other went beyond the physical need to be together. I could die a virgin and be Ok with that. Or worse, Hendrix could die and leave me a virgin and I would still be able to survive. Obviously, it would suck, but my body’s physical needs wouldn’t outweigh the cry of my heart. Those words were infinitely more important. It was because of those words I could even entertain the idea of sex anyway.

  I loved Hendrix, but a two hour time frame in a cold, cement-floored storage room felt like throwing something important away for convenience’s sake.

  Well, I felt like that until he pulled up the unit door and we walked into the most thoughtful, planned-out moment of my life.

  I watched in awe as Hendrix moved around the narrow space lighting candles in all four corners of the room and on a milk crate in the center. Once the candles were lit, Hendrix closed the sliding garage-style door with a noisy thud and let me take in the room.

  We were truly alone.

  The candlelight flickered to life and cast shadows on a micro-suede love seat in the back of the long space, wedged between two file cabinets; an oak buffet stood along one wall and a very furry, very plush looking rug covered the floor in the middle of the room. There was a bottle of wine, two metal camping cups and a bowl of something on the buffet. I had to assume the bowl held candy.

  My stomach flip-flopped.

  And then flip-flopped again when I saw all the flowers.

  On every wall were painted flowers in black and gray- the only paint colors I would have bet Hendrix had to work with. They were beautiful on the white cement walls, breath-taking and tear-inducing. The skill was mediocre at best and the paint had run in places, dripping long streaks of paint to the floor. But they were flowers.

  For me.

  The most beautiful flowers I’d ever seen.

  On the buffet table I could see another flower now- this one real but long dead and dried, pressed flat and thin. I walked over to it, trying to keep my emotions in check. I reached out to touch the delicate crimson petals and whimpered pathetically, losing all hope of being anything but an emotion wreck today.

  “I kept it,” Hendrix admitted in a rough, gravelly voice that wrapped around me like decadent silk.

  It was one of the roses we found behind the Payless Shoe Store when we first got to Oklahoma. Hendrix and I had found a whole garden of them behind the store and we’d taken some inside to hand out to the girls, but I hadn’t thought to keep mine. It wasn’t necessary for my survival, it wouldn’t save my life. The end of the world had turned me cynical and painfully practical.

  But Hendrix had thought to save it- to keep it.

  I turned around to face him and he was right there. He took my face in his hands and bent down to kiss me.

  “I love you, Reagan Willow. I love you more than all and to the very, very end.”

  I couldn’t respond verbally so I slid my hands around his neck and kissed him with all the emotion and consuming adoration I felt for him.

  How could something this good and lovely exist in this ugly world? How could I have found it? And how could he feel everything for me that I felt for him? It didn’t make sense to me. Not when my world had been spiraling deeper and deeper into hopelessness and despair.

  My back bumped against the buffet table and I reached out to slide the delicate rose down a ways. When the flower was out of the way, Hendrix picked me up and sat me on the table, nudging my legs open so he could step inside.

  His hands left my face to find their way under my shirt. His hot palms pressed against my bare skin and I melted into him. He deepened the kiss on a groan of satisfaction, pulling me forward so his body pressed flush against mine.

  I pushed one of my hands through his thick, dirty blonde hair and let the other trail down the hard, rigid lines of his chest and abdomen. I played with the hem of his t-shirt before finding the courage to investigate what was happening underneath.

  Perfectly outlined abs met my soft fingertips and I gasped at the feel of his body at my mercy. He was so perfect, so masculine… so mine. And I wanted to touch and explore every single part of him.

  I grazed the back of my nails over the bumpy outlines of all his defined muscles, barely dipping them into the waistband of his jeans.

  King was right, they needed underwear apparently.

  Ahem.

  He shivered under my touch and became hungry and fierce with his kisses. His hands stayed put but I felt the effort it took for him to stay still in his slightly trembling body. I sucked on his bottom lip, pulling it away from his mouth so I could nibble on it like he did mine earlier and then smiled when he lost some of his slipping self-control and let his hands travel higher on my body.

  His thumb rubbed the underwire of my bra, testing my resistance, waiting for permission. In answer, I hooked my fingers back in his jeans and tugged him into me so that his body met mine with a shocking, tingling friction.

  A breathy, high-pitched moan left my mouth before I could pull myself together and he growled in approval, eliciting another shiver out of me from the raw, virile sound.

  Our kiss only intensified from there. He tasted like salty sweat and gritty dirt; his tongue was hot and demanding and I gave up my philosophical thoughts and deep convictions and just decided that any time with Hendrix would be perfect.

  It was amazing how hormones could do that. And not just with principals and beliefs, but with insecurities too.

  Moments ago I could have sworn I was self-conscious of my hairy legs, Sasquatch-stench and emaciated, manly body. I had too many muscles for a girl and not nearly enough fats in my diet to counteract all the tone. I wasn’t soft, delicate female. I was hard, masculine warrior that would have been accused of taking steroids had I lived any time before now. The only thing I had going for me was that I had yet to grow a mustache and my boobs hadn’t shrunk into tiny shadows of hard mass.

  Gah! Thank God for boobs! And especially because you didn’t have to shave them. Never had that been more important than right now.

  But all those insecure thoughts and inhibitions went flying out the window by now. All I could do now was feel, and taste, touch and be touched. I wanted Hendrix to never stop, to worship me like this forever. His hands were insistently rough and carefully sweet at the same time. His body was hard and unyielding pressed against me, but somehow accepting and comforting too. His mouth was needy and hungry but achingly tender.

  There was trust between us, and hope and love. And wrapped up in all of those things was a desire so hot and consuming I thought I would die if I didn’t follow this through.

  Just when I was ready to rip his clothes off him he slowed the kiss and eventually pulled way. I followed after him until he granted me one more but then stopped us by putting his forehead against mine, his heavy, panting breaths fanning across my face.

  “If we don’t stop now, I won’t be able to,” he gasped.

  I had lost the ability to form words, but I knew he was right. I didn’t understand why we needed to stop now, but asking that question was beyond my current skill set, too.

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispered from the same position.

  I opened my eyes and met his intensely piercing blue ones and fell deeper into a love that I couldn’t fully wrap my head around anymore.

  “I am so lucky that you picked me,” he continued.

  My heart jumped inside my chest and my whole body zinged with that compliment. “Hendrix,” I whispered, placing my hand against his rough beard. “I’m the lucky one. Lucky to
be loved by you, to be protected by you. Lucky that you come after me when I do stupid things. Lucky that you love me like this.”

  He smiled at that and kissed me sweetly again. “Remember that the next time you think it’s a good idea to run off with our enemy.”

  A laugh bubbled up before I could stop it. “Believe me, lesson learned.”

  “Good.”

  He kissed the tip of my nose because he couldn’t help himself. And then my lips because they were obviously the next place to visit. And then he kept kissing me because neither of us could help ourselves.

  Soon we were tangled together again, limbs, hands mouths, as much of our bodies as we could put in contact with each other. He fumbled with the buttons of my flannel and I helped him by just ripping it over my head. I was left in a cami and filthy bra that had seen much better days. Hendrix didn’t seem to mind though as he attacked the tops of my breasts with a hunger that would have been funny if it wasn’t echoed in the core of my body.

  He lifted me up by the backs of my thighs and I gasped at the sudden sensation that I was air born. He brought me back to his body and I wrapped my legs around him. He stumbled- carefully because candles were everywhere- to the love seat and laid me down with tender gentleness.

  I looked up at him with awe and devotion, mesmerized as he tugged off his shirt and threw it at his feet. The cool air kissed my exposed skin sending chills skittering over me, but I felt on fire with this need for him, boiling with a desperation to touch him, be touched by him, to be with him.

  He toed off his boots next and then tugged at mine until they joined his in a pile on the floor. I thought he would attack me with the clawing desperation I felt for him, but he descended on me slowly, patiently waiting for me to stop him, asking for silent permission to let him touch me.

  I nibbled my lower lip and just let him come to me. His knee hit the couch first, between mine but set so that his body would be balanced above me. His other foot stayed on the floor since this loveseat was too small for his long body. His arms braced himself on either side of me and then finally his lips found mind again. He settled over me with just enough wait to make me practically begging for more of him. His body fit over mine perfectly, his hot skin felt insane against mine. And my head swum with the intense sensation of all of him like this, so intimate and sweet.

  This time when we kissed, we weren’t as hungry as before, not nearly as frantic to consume each other. Instead we poured that love and chest-filling emotion back into each other and just enjoyed the taste of each other on our tongues. Hendrix’s hands explored my body, touching as much of me as he could. And I let mine do the same to him. He was more than muscle and perfect body- he was him, he was Hendrix. And that was who I was in love with.

  After long, sweetly intimate moments, he pulled back and looked down at me. “I really didn’t bring you here just to seduce you.”

  “You brought me here to…. talk?” I smirked.

  He sat back on the couch, moving my legs out of the way and masterfully bringing me with him so I straddled his waist and looked down at him.

  “Originally this was the I Love You room, but you kind of changed my plans. Plan B was to get you cleaned up and then make out with you without getting interrupted,” he sighed.

  “Well, part of Plan B worked out for you.” I took his mouth in another lengthy, mind-numbing kiss with his jaw cupped in both of my hands.

  When we pulled apart his eyes were a little unfixed and his voice rough with want. “I want to go slow with you.”

  I frowned. I’d just given up that whole argument. “Why?”

  “Because you’re worth it. Because I want to do this right. I don’t just want to push us into something we’re not ready for simply because we have the time and availability.”

  I wiggled on his lap just to torture him, “You’re not exactly pushing me.”

  He gripped my hips to keep me from moving anymore. “Do this for me? Please?”

  “Only if you tell me why.” That threat was a lie. I didn’t think I would ever be able to say no to

  him when his eyes were windows into his very vulnerable soul and when he was asking me to trust him with something I had wanted to protect anyway. Besides that, he was asking me to give him control, to let him take over and lead me. That was the hardest part. It was easy to follow directions when my life was at stake, but I was starting to realize that control was one of the few things I had left to hang onto. If I gave Hendrix control in this relationship I had to give it up- and that was scary.

  Terrifying.

  “I’m asking a lot of you to trust me, Reagan. And more than that, I’m asking a lot of you to go into this relationship when we both know something could happen to either of us at any given moment. We don’t have a lot of security or safety to work with, we don’t have much time either. But I want to treasure this, I want to cherish you. I don’t want to start demanding pieces of you only because there might not be tomorrow. I want this… us to be a real relationship that works together and works hard to stay together. You’re it for me, Reagan. There isn’t an option for me to move on and find someone else. And I want to do this right. I want to treat you right without giving you reasons to walk away from me.”

  My heart hammered in my chest and those dueling emotions were back- fear, panic, anxiety, and warmth, tenderness and overwhelming feelings of “Aw!”

  “Also, that look,” Hendrix smiled up at me. “You had the same one on the way here. You’re not ready, babe. And I’m more than alright with that. Just having you with me is enough.” He tipped his mouth up and kissed the underside of my chin, his whiskers tickled and scratched at the sensitive skin and I trembled from the sensation. “For now,” he finished in a ragged whisper.

  He had relaxed me enough that I mirrored his restrained desire, “For now.”

  And then he dumped me on the floor, catching me just in time so my butt didn’t bruise. He grinned down at me and said, “Now we need to clean you up so people don’t get the wrong impression.”

  “What’s the wrong impression?” I asked dubiously.

  “That we just came in here to make-out.”

  “Um, but won’t walking out of here in different clothes and freshly bathed give a worse impression?”

  “Exactly.”

  I wanted to ask a hundred more questions but I kept them to myself. Mainly because he started stripping… off his socks. I wasn’t that lucky apparently- at least not yet.

  Hendrix opened one of the file drawers and revealed a stash of bottled water, an Irish Spring bar soap, a travel bottle of shampoo and a dusty package of washcloths. Score! He had also stashed away some new clothes for both of us.

  “You’re awfully prepared,” I commented while pulling off my cami.

  He stared unashamedly at my boobs and worked hard to swallow. “Uh, I had Haley bring this stuff in here during the rescue mission.”

  “Ah,” I smiled.

  Hendrix tore his gaze away from me as I stepped out of the huge jeans I’d borrowed from the bunker. He retrieved two tall buckets to catch the water. We would have to stand inside them so they could catch the water. It was effective, but the bottoms were too small for our feet. Painful, but effective.

  “We’re going to play a game,” Hendrix murmured as he brought everything over to me and set it up on the buffet. “We can help each other wash, but no kissing.”

  “That does not sound like a game.” I tried for sarcastic but it came out so much breathier than I intended. We’d done this before- more than once. But this seemed oh so much more intimate. And a little naughty.

  “You’re right, it’s more like a life line.”

  But we were both wrong. After Hendrix slipped into athletic shorts while I gave him some privacy by closing my eyes- I didn’t peek, not once. Ok… maybe once- we set about washing each other’s hair and helping with all those tough to reach places on each other’s bodies. We kept everything remarkably PG-13, but the entire experience was
still intimate and sexy. And more than that we fell into each other even more, we got to know each other in ways that we hadn’t yet. We laughed more than I had in a long time but never lost the sensual feeling of touching each other, of letting our fingers skate over soapy, slick skin and keeping our lips from making the connection they desperately wanted to.

  These moments were perfect- torturous, a little bit erotic and so very perfect.

  Hendrix was just everything I could have ever wanted. And he was mine.

  This was as real and as honest as love was. And somehow I got to be a part of it. I got to experience it. There were so many things day to day that I didn’t want to experience but had to face anyway. And then then there was this- there was Hendrix. This one thing in my life felt so special and so incredible I couldn’t believe it belonged to me.

  And while we got rid of the dirt, grime and horror of the last few days, I realized that I was “bathing” Hendrix in the same way that Kane had demanded I wash him. Only, this was the way it was supposed to happen, this was the way relationships were supposed to form, develop and grow.

  Kane tried to force something on me that I neither wanted nor asked for, but he expected anyway. Hendrix held no expectations for me, but this was what I wanted, what I never even thought to ask for because it was too good, and too pure for this world.

  The difference between the two men was blatantly obvious and it made me concerned for my poor, fickle heart that would sometimes stutter whenever Kane was near. Hendrix was the opposite of this world, light to its darkness, life to its decay, love to its utter hopelessness. And Kane was the epitome of everything I feared and hated- controlling, overbearing, demanding and manipulative.