Page 6

“Far enough that they won’t bother us,” I tell her as I rise and light a fire on our wooden stove, turning my back to her. “Don’t worry. They won’t find you.”

A pause.

“Won’t they come looking for us, Micah?”

“They better fucking not.” I turn and pull my shirt off. “They will have to figure things out for themselves now. They have everything they need to survive. I left them plenty of food, and they can take over my old shelter. I winterized it for them, so if they are smart and careful, they should be okay. The snow built up around the shelter will keep them warm enough, even through the worst parts of the season. People survive up here, London.”

She arches a brow, her eyes trailing down my abs to the waistband of my fitted sweats. “Do you believe they will live through this?”

I step toward her, grabbing a spare shirt and throwing it on before cupping her in my arms. “I don’t care. I told you, baby. I only care about you and me now.”

She frowns. “Micah, what about Thomas, Jade, Serena…” she pauses, “or Naomi? You don’t care about them?”

The other name we don’t talk about. London knows I have a sexual history with Naomi—one I will have to explain sooner or later. I’d be curious if I were in her shoes. The problem is that I can’t explain who Naomi was to me, no more than I can explain Olivia. The difference, however, is that neither of them were really mine. Not like London is… or will be.

“No, not even them.” I don’t blink as I say it.

They are dead to me.

Once the water boils, I grab the pot and sit on the bed. I pull off her blanket and stare down at her beautiful ivory thighs as she leans her head back. My groin starts to ache, watching her as she assesses me—like she’s been doing since day one.

This girl…

I haven’t been this turned on since I started fucking Olivia. I never expected a girl would turn me on like this again, but here we are… She has no clue how beautiful she is, which makes her even more endearing.

Her eyes soften, and she runs her hand down my arm. “Do you want to talk about him?”

I lean forward and press my hands on either side of her. “No.”

“Micah—”

I slide my tongue into her mouth, and I don’t let her finish her sentence. She returns my kiss, but I sense her hesitation. If I keep kissing her, she can’t talk, and if I move my hand between her legs, her moaning will take over.

Keeping my mouth on hers, I slide the blanket off entirely, pull off her tank top, and slide her underwear down her legs. She gives me that sound I was waiting for, so I deepen my kiss and slide my right hand off her. Finding the pot of warm water I placed near the bed, I grab the shirt I put inside and place it right between her legs, cleaning her.

She flinches just a little, and it reminds me of the day I cleaned her wound—the day I realized I loved her. “You can’t avoid talking about him forever, Micah. We need to talk about him eventually… about what happened.”

I run the wet shirt down her thighs and each calf muscle, taking my time before placing it back in the hot water and dousing her belly with it.

“Not today, sweetheart.”

Her pupils flash, and she hisses. I suppress a smile when her body jolts from the hot water as it hits her skin. She hates it when I call her sweetheart, and she bristles every time.

She kicks at me. “Don’t, Micah. That hurts.”

That’s the point.

“Yeah, well, at least you don’t smell like a corpse.”

Her mouth gapes and her eyes narrow before her lips slide into a small grin. However, her anger is short-lived when the hot water becomes warm, and I soak her skin, massaging her belly and thighs.

Her body loosens, and she sinks into the bed, closing her eyes while I wash her. “When can we talk about him?” she finally asks as I scrub dirt off her. This island fucked her up, and now it’s up to me to make it better. London is completely at my mercy, but I’m not stupid enough to believe she doesn’t have little claws that scratch—I’ve been on the receiving end of them a couple of times.

I take my time, admiring every curve, not wanting to take any moment I have with her for granted. I remain silent as I clean every inch of her, making her roll on her belly so I can check her wound and clean her back, and I pointedly ignore her question. She doesn’t bring up Maison again, and I forget him as she distracts me enough with her tight little ass, focusing solely on how much I want to fuck it.

When I finish cleaning her, I pick her up and position her back toward me. Her deep brown eyes blink at me a few times, and she runs her hands through my hair before tickling the stubble on my chin. “What do you need from me right now, Micah?” she asks, and I tense.

She has no clue what I need yet… but she will.