Waking Up Dead

she chased it back into his own mouth, he doing the same, over and over until they were both panting. And then with one slight movement, one difference in the angle, he slipped into her. Jackson gasped and arched her hips, wrapping her arms tightly around him, reveling in the feel of him on top of her, in her, around her.

She was completely consumed in Luke and she loved it.

He drew out before moving oh so slowly back in. Jackson tightened her thighs and moved with him. Together in and out, back and forth. His length worked her, pulling along her nerves and making her entire body clench.

“Jackson,” he groaned. “I…”

The inner kisses started to chase through her body all over again but this time they were far more intense. Sizzling up her spine and scorching along her thighs. Burning her entire body and she moaned, before realizing Luke was speaking.

“What is it, Luke? What?”

He shook his head, making other parts shake and moved again. “Nothing…”

She kissed the nothing away from his lips. Tiny kisses that ran across the flesh and along his jawline. She threaded her hands in his hair before moving down to his back. Slight scars raised under her fingers and Jackson trailed along them, caressing them.

He groaned again as she settled each hand over his lower back, pushing him into her, positioning him just as she liked. Over and over, again and again they moved, and Jackson forgot what she meant or even what he meant, it was all lost in the fire, all consumed by the scorch, and throughout she didn’t look at Mandy.

Not even once.

Chapter Thirty-one

She might have been sleeping. Luke wasn’t sure. On the off chance that she actually was, he crept out of bed slowly, trying to remain as quiet as possible. He paused for just a moment at the foot of the bed, he kinda couldn’t help himself, and looked down at her tousled form. Her short, spiky hair framed her delicate face. It was slightly damp and he imagined how it would look falling in waves down her back. Beautiful, no doubt. But that was the old Jackson. This was the new, and this Jackson was his. The spiky hair was beautiful in its own way.

He padded across the room, the peace he felt after their lovemaking warring with his previous worries and Luke sighed. Not now. Just leave me for a little bit, damn you.

It was startlingly bright out and he pushed the curtain aside to look around. A few people walked back and forth but all looked fairly calm. Nothing was amiss. Whatever had allowed that zombie to get in seemed to have been dealt with. He hoped so, at least. Jackson would not begin to relax until she felt marginally safe. Though whether the camp was going to be safe enough for her, he didn’t know.

Where was she? What was she doing? Why do I get the feeling that I don’t want to know? The thoughts assailed him and Luke gritted his teeth as he opened the bathroom door. He used the toilet—one that actually flushed—washed his hands, and then ran some water over his face. It was icy cold and that was welcome. The heat at this time of day was particularly brutal and he could understand why the rest of the camp paused and why both he and Jackson had been slick with sweat by the time they had finished.

He eyed himself in the mirror, pushing the bad thoughts away, rubbed along his jaw, and frowned. A shave was so needed and soon. The stubble he’d sported for the last few days was not looking good. Jackson would probably be covered in marks for the next couple of days. He grinned slightly and rubbed the stubble again. Why did that make him feel good? That he’d marked her with his loving. Maybe because she had so many scars. Not in obvious places. But they were there all the same. On her back and her chest, one running down her thigh, another snaking is way around her left arm.

Stretching, Luke pushed open the shower door. He’d planned to save his shower for later, but he was sweaty and knew he smelled musky. The cold water would do him good. Almost ready him, in a way, for the conversation he knew was going to come. The moment Jackson told him whatever it was she’d been up to. Whatever had made her late.

And he was fairly fucking certain he knew what it was now. Her reaction had told him plenty. Jackson was going to tell him that she was helping to defend the community…and what could he say to that? He could hardly forbid her. Despite whatever thrummed between them, Jackson would not stand for being told what to do. She was far too independent for that, and though he sort of thought she’d listen to him and hear his concerns, she’d still do whatever felt right to her. But then where the hell did Sebastian fit into it all? The doctor was up to something. Luke was certain of it, but for the life of him he couldn’t work out how it involved Jackson. And a small part, just a little bit, really, wondered if he was going to have to tell Sebastian exactly what the lay of the land was. That Jackson was his and to stay the hell away.

Luke stepped into the shower stall and turned the water on, scowling as his thoughts ran and whirred and pushed inside him for prominence. A minute earlier and he would have missed it, but a minute could often make all kinds of a difference and just as the spray hit the shower floor he heard an odd sound from the bedroom. His scowl deepened because clearly Jackson was not asleep and he wanted her to be. She needed it. If she’d just do eight hours, he’d be a happy man. But what was that? What was she doing? It sounded like…he paused and carefully stepped back out of the stall, tilting his head back to look into the bedroom. Yes, just as he’d thought.

Jackson sat on the bed, legs crossed, feet tucked under her. Her pack was open on the bed, she wore nothing but her skin and had Mandy’s wooden hilt draped across her thighs, the blade against the mattress. She held an ellipse shaped stone in her right hand. Up and down it went, swish, swish, swish.

She must have crept out of bed to get the machete and he wanted to rally at her for that—but how could he? How could he possibly even think to? Her face was set into a look of pure concentration, her hands finding the rhythm so easily. Swish, swish, swish.

She was sharpening the blade. Readying her weapon for use, and he realized then that his thoughts had probably been on the mark. Bang on.

For a few minutes he stood there, half in the bathroom and half out, watching the play of her hands and the stone moving back and forth, back and forth. Conflicting feelings, conflicting thoughts all running through him. When he could stand it no longer he spoke.

“Jack?”

She looked up but her hands did not cease her motion. Swish, swish, swish. “Yeah?”

“You were going to tell me,” he said slowly. “Tell me what you were doing today. Why you were late back here. What you found to do.”

Jackson shifted, though the stone continued to move, and shot him a look he couldn’t quite decipher. “You don’t want to shower first?”

Luke’s gut did a kind of flip-flop and he swallowed. “No.”

“But you’re wasting the water.”

And water was not to be wasted. It was one of the main rules of the camp. In this heat, it was a precious commodity. “Here’s the deal then,” he said. “You tell me exactly what you were doing today. Then, because I’m probably not going to like it, I’ll go shower and think it over and then we can talk. Deal?”

“Why do you assume it’ll be something you won’t like?” she asked. Swish, swish, swish.

“Because of that.” He pointed to Mandy, and even he could hear the catch in his voice. “Because you’re sharpening her for something and it no doubt involves them.”

“I found a job,” she said, nodding slowly. “Something useful, Luke.”

“A job?”

Swish, swish, swish. “Yep,” she said. “Go and have your shower and then I’ll tell you. Because, it seems that fantasies really do come true, and Mandy and I are needed after all.”