Page 35 of A Wilderness Within

Lincoln returned to the car and carried the pet carriers with the chickens upstairs, placing them in a room across the hall, which was also empty. He let them out of their carriers and closed the door to keep them inside. He would check for eggs tomorrow. Then he entered the room he shared with Caroline.

She was still asleep. He pulled back the covers of the other bed, and then removed her shoes and socks and tucked her in. He checked the bathroom; it had running water. Despite his fatigue, he wanted to collect supplies while he could. The front desk’s cash drawer had been forced open by a crowbar and emptied. Lincoln slipped behind the desk and reached the shelves of bottles of Tylenol, ibuprofen, and other basic drugs. He grabbed a stack of razors and a couple boxes of condoms and shaving cream. Yeah, he knew he was being presumptuous for getting more condoms, but he never wanted to have an “Oh shit, where’s the condoms?” moment if something happened between them. The last thing he needed was worrying about bringing a kid into this fucked-up world.

He searched the kitchen and found a large store of powdered eggs, which had a shelf life of five to ten years, and an endless supply of those tiny single-serving cereal boxes. Those were gold. He would have to pack every one of them into the car. It would be a tight fit, but they could eat Froot Loops like kings.

By the time he got back to the room, it was dark. He settled in the bed opposite Caroline. He was afraid if he tried to sleep next to her tonight, he might do something he’d regret. She was so goddamn irresistible, and she had no clue. This wasn’t just about them being some of the last people on earth—this was abouther, who she was, how she reminded him about what was still good in the world. She was like a bottle of hundred-year-old whiskey to an alcoholic trying to make it one day sober.

He swept his small Maglite over their room before he turned it off, wanting to make sure all was well before he let his guard down. Who knew what monsters lurked in the shadows outside, waiting?

10

Here life has death for neighbor,

And far from eye or ear

Wan waves and wet winds labor,

Weak ships and spirits steer;

They drive adrift, and whither

They wot not who make thither;

But no such winds blow hither,

And no such things grow here.

—“The Garden of Proserpine”

by Algernon Charles Swinburne

The chill woke Caroline with cold, creeping tendrils, stealing beneath the thin hotel blankets. Bleary-eyed, she reached for the comforting warmth of Lincoln’s body. But he wasn’t there. She jolted awake, crying out in fear.

“Lincoln! Lincoln!” Terror shot through her like a shotgun blast. Her lungs seized, her vision blacked out, and she bent double over the side of the bed, dry-heaving.

“Caroline.” Lincoln’s deep, rumbling purr of a whisper was there beside her, his arms strong and warm as they wound around her, pinning her to the bed, like the roots of an ancient tree. He hadn’t abandoned her in the dark. She was safe. She wasn’t alone. Great gasping, gulping sobs escaped her with such force, she wondered if her lungs might bleed from the stress.

“Shhh…” His beard rubbed her forehead, and she buried her face against him, needing to be assured by all five of her senses that this wasn’t a dream. She couldn’t smell things in her dreams.

“I thought you left me…I…”

“Never.” He said the word softly, yet it seemed to vibrate through her, echoing deeper than anything else in her life ever had. It seemed to be more than a declaration of love. It was a vow, an unbreakable one. But how could he make such a vow to her? They were strangers, thrown together by circumstances and tragedy.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her lips brushing his neck.

His arms tightened around her. She realized they were lying down on her bed, his body partially covering hers. He gently cocooned her beneath him, just the way she liked. She couldn’t miss his hardened arousal that dug into her hip, but it didn’t frighten her. She wanted him—sheneededhim in the most primal way. The fear of losing him had made one thing clear to her. She didn’t want to go another moment without knowing the intimate touch of another, and there was only one man she wanted.

The first day they’d met he’d said it would come to this; animal lust and the desire for physical comfort. Damn him, he had been right. She would hate him and herself tomorrow. But right now she needed him.

“Please, Lincoln.” She kissed his throat and wriggled beneath him, trying to entice him to slide between her legs.

“No, not tonight,” he said, before he stole a slow, drugging kiss that made her body ache and her toes curl.

“Yes. I’ve been wanting you for weeks,” she admitted, arching her hips and curling one leg around his ass. “And you’ve been avoiding me.” God, right now she loved his ass, tight and firm…it gave a girl the best fantasies about digging her nails into it while he fucked her senseless. Not that she’d ever experienced that. Her list of ex-boyfriends was short. She’d cared about each of them, but none of them had really been intense like Lincoln.

He was so physically present, so strong and at home in his own skin. That natural confidence was hotter than hell. When he had kissed her that first time, she’d felt almost as confident as him, because she had tasted that primal hunger on his lips and knew it was for her. He just wanted her the way she was in that moment. Naked, gasping his name, and nearly blacking out with pleasure. She’d tasted all of that on his lips and seen it in his eyes. A girl could get drunk on something that like.

“Please…I’ll beg,” she groaned and rocked herself against him. “You want that?”

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