I lay back on the bed, turning on the bedside light because I need something warm and soft to keep the chill of night and this impersonal room at bay. The smell of bleach more pronounced here, coming from the bed linens that the maid also changed. I’m watching the truck through the crack in the curtains. They’re talking death and murder in there, and I showed them exactly where to deal it out.
I don’t know how I feel about that.
Not good. I do know that.
I also don’t know how I feel about Colt murdering people as a way of life, as his job, sort of.
Not great. I do know that.
The smell of bleach mixed with lavender is making me sick to my stomach by the time the door finally opens and Colt walks it, outlined in the light coming from the streetlights and the motel sign outside. Behind him. I can hear the truck pulling away.
He closes the door and just stands there, his eyes reflecting the soft light and glowing almost amber. He fills the room. He makes this room home. He would make any room, anywhere home for me. I know this. In my heart and my soul. All I have to do it is not think about anything else.
“What are you thinking about so hard?” he asks seriously, and slightly apprehensively.
I have a very mean resting bitch face. I know that, and I know it’s what he’s seeing right now, because it also comes up when I’m thinking real hard. Or at least, Stormi always told me so.
I smile and pat the bed beside me. “Come and join me. I’ll show you exactly what I’m thinking.”
He pauses just long enough to take off his jacket and let it fall to the ground before doing as I asked. He lies beside me, half on top of me, fully clothed, and kisses me so deeply, and slowly the butterflies in my stomach go from zero to sixty in less than a second. He tastes of the sand and dust, and wind, the open road, but also the setting sun and the peace of deep night when nothing that happens and is in the daytime matters. He tastes like everything I ever wanted and all the things I didn’t even know I wanted.
First, I lose track of time and then my mind loses its hold on my soul the longer we kiss. His hands are caressing my breasts and my belly, my neck, and my hair. Mine are hopelessly tangled up in his hair. I can feel his rock hard cock jabbing me in the thigh, making me want more than these deep kisses, his wandering hands, and his solid, dependable weight keeping me safe and secure. Everything else can wait. This is what I need now. To feel loved and worshiped and desired. To feel safe and desired and adored.
My lips are tingling from all the blood the kisses called to them as his slide off to kiss my neck. I sigh deeply, welcoming the fresh air in my lungs, and the sparkling pleasure his lips on my neck are waking.
“More,” I whisper as his lips leave my hot skin for a moment.
He obliges, his tongue once again demanding entrance into my mouth, his hands rougher as he kneads my breasts and pinches my nipples, sending searing pangs of desire down to my clit which I hope I the next to be kissed.
I slide my hand down his rock solid abs, loving every bump my fingers pass, and pull on his belt.
He stops me by laying his hand over mine and breaking away from the kiss.
“There’s no time,” he says. “I gotta get back to base.”
“What?” I half-whisper, half moan.
I’m literally not sure I understood him right.
“I have to go,” he says, his eyes boring deep into mine and telling me that’s the last thing he wants to do.
“You can’t stay the night?” I ask, just to make sure I’m hearing him right. I’m still not sure I am.
“I was supposed to leave right after them,” he says. “I’ve already stayed too long.”
I don’t know whether to yell or plead or what.
“You gotta do what you gotta do,” I say, settling for cold displeasure as I extricate myself from under him to sit up and lean against the headboard. There are so many pillows under the comforter that my back is now bent at a very awkward and uncomfortable angle, but I don’t care. It’s nothing compared to this discomfort his words are causing.
“I gotta,” he says sadly and sits up too. “But I’ll be back as soon as I can. And I’ll call you.”
He smiles and the sight of his bright, hopeful face does melt a lot of the ice I’m projecting. But not enough.
“Don’t be difficult, Brenda,” he says, and I love my name spoken by his voice. It’s like he was born to speak my name. Why am I mad? I suddenly have no idea.
“All right, fine,” I say and smile back. “But just so you know, I was really looking forward to having you all to myself for the rest of the night.”
“Yeah, ditto,” he says and grins. “But it is what it is. Once this job is over, we’ll have all the time in the world.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” I say and smile even wider, hoping it will chase away the dark thoughts gathering at the edge of my mind.
He’s a killer, he might get killed on this job. I’m falling so hard for him that it’s no longer safe. I’ve never fallen this hard for anyone. What if I get hurt worse than I’ve ever been hurt?
He leans over and kisses me again, deeply and slowly, chasing the darkness of all those questions away like a forceful, gusting wind that no dark cloud can stand before.
But they return once the door is closed behind him and the sound of his bike leaving is more memory than an echo.
Why do I care so much?
He’s just a guy that’s my ticket from the shit life I’ve lived with the Sinners to a better one somewhere else. So that nagging voice deep in my heart can just fucking shut up that he’s more than that. No guy is more than that. Either they use me or I use them. It goes without saying that the latter is better.
16
Colt
I could’ve fucked her before I left. My painfully hard cock is very insistently telling me I made a mistake not doing it. But I couldn’t fuck her and then leave her. I never had that sort of problem with other girls—girls I had for a couple of nights, maybe a couple of months, then never saw again, which is pretty much the sum total of my relationships so far.
Brenda is so much more than that. She’s worth so much more than being a soft, wet place to stick my cock in. I can’t even begin to unravel what that actually means. But I know it is so.
And as the cool night air hitting my face on my ride back to the bunker finally does its thing, my cock knows it too.
The air smells of cooling sand and green things, but Brenda’s scent is still foremost in my mind. Not even a long ride can chase that away—honeysuckle, lime, and long quiet evenings. Bravery and calm. That’s what she gives me. That’s what kissing her and holding her gives me. And that’s better than just coming. Because it lasts.
Soon I’ll reach the bunker, and then there’ll be no place in my mind for anything other than death. We’re moving against the Sinners hiding in that decrepit, abandoned town where they think they’re safe. It’ll be a slaughter. It’ll be hard.
It’s no place for Brenda, even if she’s only in my mind.
And I meant what I promised her. Once this is done, it’s just me and her for as long as it takes for us to get our fill of each other. I hope that never happens, but I’m not a naïve idiot. Nothing lasts forever. That’s not the nature of things. Besides, she’s a woman with a plan. And in my experience, those are the first to disappear.