Human Bait

Chapter 31: Celebration

A groan rumbled deep in Rekkan's chest, and a shudder ripped through him. His jaw clenched, an audible clack of teeth.

His composure crumbled.

The moment his hands left the wall, I felt them all over me. Twisting through my hair, raking down my back, cupping my ass. Somehow I left the ground, and my legs wrapped around his waist, my thighs clamping over solid muscle. Our lips collided in a messy series of kisses, lips on lips, teeth on teeth, tongue on tongue. He kissed a trail down my jaw to my neck and mumbled gasping words into my shoulder.

"Bed. We should... bed."

I murmured something vaguely affirmative and licked the skin just below his ear.

Rekkan stumbled toward the door and threw it open, staggering through the entrance as though drunk.

I started to laugh, but when my eyes took in the kitchen, my breath caught in my throat. "Oh, fuck."

Flies buzzed over heaped trash, thick goo coated the stove, and jagged pockmarks marred the wooden table. Even the ceiling had not escaped damage, the straight lines interrupted by a broken, sagging log.

Tears stung my eyes, blurring the atrocious sight.

Rekkan locked his hands together over the small of my back and withdrew just far enough to meet my eyes. "Zaf?"

My voice choked. "Your kitchen."

His eyes remained on mine, voice soft. "I know. It's fine."

I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood. "It was beautiful, and now it's ugly. All because of me."

"Hey." He lifted one hand from my back to brush away the tears below my eyes, and a gorgeous half-smile curved his lips. "I don't see anything ugly."

A spurt of laughter eased the tension in my throat. "For not being good at people, you sure can be a huge suck up."

He buried his laugh in my shoulder again, breath tickling the kissed-wet skin. "Is that a problem?"

"Fuck no."

He carried me toward the door, kicked it open, and trudged down the hallway. Another kicked door, and we entered the master bedroom.

Rekkan lowered me onto the bed and slipped the backpack off my shoulders, carefully placing it on the bedside table. The glass jar inside met wood with a dull clunk. Then Rekkan pulled off his own backpack and rummaged inside, drawing out a large bottle and a small box.

My eyes widened. "Where did you find those?"

"Before I left, the doctors asked if there was anything else they could do for me."

I shot him a withering scowl. "And you asked for lubricant and condoms?" But then a wicked smile fought its way onto my lips. "So you were also thinking about celebrating."

"Zaf, I've been thinking about celebrating all month." His fingers swept the curls from my forehead gently, but his voice was deep and rough. "You sitting at my bedside all this time, waiting patiently, taking care of me... it was..."

I waited for the rest of the sentence. When he failed to finish, I prompted, "Good? Or bad?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. But it made me fantasize about what I would do once I was less incapacitated and could get you alone. How I would fuck you. How I would make you drown in pleasure."

Voice choked, I said, "Good, then. Sounds good to me."

A chuckle so rich, so decadent, I could almost taste it. A bare second passed in silence. Then at the same time, we grappled with each other's clothing. Tugged off jackets. Unbuttoned pants. Yanked shirts over heads.