Wastelands: A Broken World

CHAPTER 33: SIREN SONG

I kiss him again, harder this time, with more urgency and he responds with a soft groan, tangling his fingers in my hair and running his other hand up my thigh. I fumble for his shirt buttons, eager to undress him. My fingers feel thick and awkward as I try to figure out the buttons one by one. I used to be good at this, didn't I? What the Hell happened to me? Tom smiles and exhales a soft, breathy laugh against my skin, helping me with the last button that seems intent on defeating my efforts. He discards the shirt before grabbing at the hem of mine, as I raise my arms, allowing him to peel it off my body.

He smiles again as he looks down, a warm, appraising smile that makes my heart thud a little stronger. Trailing his fingertips delicately over the swell of my breast, his thumb traces the line of lace on the edge of my bra cup, all the way up until he reaches the strap. Gently, he eases it off my shoulder, leaning down to kiss my skin there. Reaching back, I unhook my bra and pull it off, throwing it to the floor with his shirt and mine.

Moonlight filters through the gaps around the curtains and he leans forward, resting his forehead against mine. He looks beautiful in this light. His eyes take on an almost silvery hue, a kind of ethereal otherworldly quality that takes my breath away.

This is his thing. I remember now. I like to take a moment of refuge in his embrace as I breathe him in. He likes to hang back, and drink me in as the air caresses my skin. At times, it often feels like some exquisite torture, this waiting, this hesitation, but I've always loved that he's one of those guys that likes to prolong it instead of going straight for the prize. There's an elegance to his seduction. An almost reverent love for the act itself, of getting it right, taking his time to show his adoration and desire in a way that includes us both. It's never just about him and what he wants. It's about us and I love him for that.

His hands are on my waist, just gently holding me there as I run my fingers up his arms, to his shoulders, feeling my way along the hard lines of his frame, lingering over his collarbone. When I run them up the back of his neck, a small shiver passes through him, and we both smile. Mine definitely feels more of a nervous one than his. We've done this so many times, been here so many times and yet I feel like a teenager with my first crush, fumbling and feeling my way along in the dark.

I realise then I'm grateful for this moment. For the calmness of it. I exhale slow and cup his face in the palms of my hands.

'I love you,' I say. 'I'll always love you.'

I don't know why then, but I suddenly feel almost tearful, a snag of emotion warms my cheeks and makes my eyes feel hot and watery. I close them quick and urge myself to stop being such an idiot. This was meant to be about desire and sex and instead I'm feeling completely overwhelmed by the whole thing.

'It'll be okay, won't it?' I say it out loud this time. I can't stop myself.

Tom's hands grip my waist a little tighter. 'Of course, it will,' he says.' Everything will be okay. We have each other. Team Morgan, right?'

I laugh at the familiar joke and instantly the voices in my head quieten, fading to dull background noise – still there, but no longer that relentless buzz I've lived with for weeks now.

'You know I love you?' I say again. I hate to sound so bloody desperate, but I think I am. I'm desperate for him to know I'm still here and that the Evie he knows isn't dead. I'm desperate for him to say it back. I'll never tire of hearing him say it.

'I know. I know every second of every day. I've always known,' he says.

I pull out of his embrace, so I can fall back onto the bed, looking up at him as he moves to kneel between my legs. His eyes are wide, his lips parted slightly by his tongue.