Page 2 of The Dire Legacy

The cool spring air hitting my bare chest raises goosebumps and the rapid rate of her heartbeat becomes almost deafening.

“You shouldn’t touch me.” I feel like I don’t have enough air in my lungs. The words barely escape as a whisper before her fingers feather over my neck.

“Do you remember that time—” Her breath teases across my shoulder as she wipes a piece of grass from the tip of my too-pointy ear. “—when we were about twelve and we were playing house?” When her nails push through my short hair, blood rushes to my cock.

“Kinda.” I remember it vividly. But, I want to hear what she has to say. Anything to keep her close to me.

“I made you play the big, bad wolf.” The corner of her mouth turns up and her teeth grab her bottom lip between them. Herfinger is like a raw current of electricity tracing the long tip of my ear.

I’ve always hated them, but she’s changing my mind.

“Uh huh. But I made you cry.” It was too easy to get rough with her. Even at that age I was strong, more than most of the other kids our age.

“Do you knowwhyI cried? You had me pinned down. You were sitting on me and had my arms flat on the ground.” Her palms sweep slowly across my shoulders. The scalding heat is almost too much to bear.

“I hurt you when I knocked you down?” The frenzy I felt at that moment was one I dreamed about. Every boy has that one fantasy, and mine was forever having her trapped under me since that day. The way her hips twisted beneath me, she was rubbing me in a way I’ve never experienced.

Fuck. I’m aching right now thinking about it.

“No, you didn’t hurt me.” Her thumb traces my jaw and almost touches my lips. Never have I wanted to break my own rules more than this moment. Wanting Angie has been the only thing that has kept me waking up every morning.

But, I know it can never be.

“I cried—” She takes a deep breath, her big blue eyes only inches from mine. The smell of her lavender soap has me bound with its heavenly scent. “—because I wanted you to kiss me.”

“Fuck. Angie, you know I can’t do that.” No matter how badly I want to.

“Come on. I know you want to. We aren’t kids anymore.” Her hands still on my chest. I know she isn’t wiping straw away any more.

It’s good it’s chilly out. If it was hot, my sweat would sting her touch away.

Maybe I should whisk her away to Alaska.

“I’ll hurt you.” Damn the virus that made me this way. Why can’t I just be a normal person?

“I doubt it.” Her nose moves nearer my chin. She’s so close I can see the slivers of gold and green in her eyes. Getting lost in them, I don’t notice her hands moving to my waist until her hips bump against my upper thighs.

Embarrassment surges through me and I step back. I don’t want her to feel how hard I am for her. How my cock is leaking just at her proximity.

“Mikey, a lot of people that changed after the Dire Virus… their symptoms got less. My parents are starting to age a little. They don’t look like they’re twenty anymore. Heck, my dad got his first gray hair!” Her cheeks puff with her grin and she steps closer. “That might mean you don’t sting as hard.”

“We both know my mom was the only one I could touch, and even then it was hard for her. You don’t have hyper healing like she does.”

I still can’t believe she left me here, alone.

I miss her. Why’d she have to go to Chicago? Just because the soldiers came and requested her help, doesn’t mean she should have chosen to leave me. Who cares that she could be helping thousands of people?

“I heal fast enough. When I broke my leg when I was six, it healed in a week.” Her pink lower lip sticks out in a pout. My teeth click together longing to take it between them.

I let my tongue wrap around one of my longer canines instead. My whole body is like that, just a little different. There’s a chance I’d pass as almost normal to most people. Well, at first glance.

It’s the inside that’s even more strange.

“A week isn’t long enough.” Peeling her hands off of me, I’m glad I left my gloves on. She’s getting harder to resist. “Besides, by your own reasoning, maybe your healing slowed down too?”

The image of pressing her to the ground while she writhes beneath me dominates my thoughts. She makes my breathing grow rapid as I struggle to resist the urge. Maybe she’s right and I’m needlessly tormenting myself by keeping her at bay.

When she backs away and drops her hands, my victory is bittersweet.

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