Die For You: Catastrophe Series, Book 1 (14 page)

Whoa. No more alcohol for her.

The room was quiet as a tomb, except for—wait, what song was that? The Bose music system still played “Sexual Healing” by Marvin Gaye? Her lips curved. God, she loved that song.

She glanced around the lounge area and found her three handsome men in varying degrees of disarray: Adam passed out, cowboy hat gone, face planted on the table, snoring. Trevor sprawled out, asleep on the floor. Christian dry heaving on the couch next to her.

Her shoulders slumped. Guess she wasn’t getting any tonight.

Christian stood up, swayed and fell back down, hand over his mouth. “I need—I have to—”

She blew air out between her lips and stood up. It figured. Of course this would happen. “Here, let me help you to the bathroom,” she said, resigned to her fate. This wasn’t her first rodeo. She knew exactly what to do.

Rachel efficiently slid her arm around Christian’s firm waist and helped him step over Trevor. He leaned into her as she led him down the hall and into the bedroom in the back of the bus.

Christian winced as she flicked on the blinding white light of the master bath. She let go and he slumped to the floor, immediately crawled over to the toilet and became violently ill. She closed the door and sat behind him, both of them barely fitting together in the tiny space. Wave after wave of nausea racked his body. Woozy and lightheaded, her mouth as dry as the Sahara, Rachel still managed to hold it together and absently rub his back with one hand. The poor guy sounded miserable.

Finally, he moaned and lifted his head, scrubbing his face with his hands.

“All done?” she whispered.

He nodded and leaned forward to flush the toilet. Then he flopped back against the tile wall, breathing heavily. Christian put a hand to his forehead and looked at her with bloodshot eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this. Why the hell do I even bother?” He dropped his hand, tilted his head back and gazed up at the ceiling, a single tear trailing down his cheek.

Her chest constricted. He’d lost his wife and children in the outbreak. God, how that must feel. She couldn’t even touch it. The idea of it burned a hole in her heart.

“Why do we bother going on when they’re all gone? Everyone’s gone.” He lowered his chin and pegged her with a tortured stare, as if he expected her to say something perfect, something profound that would fix everything.

Her throat tightened. She had nothing.

“My wife, my children,” he choked. “They all died, right in front of me. My children were bleeding, terrified, screaming for me to help them. But I couldn’t.”

Tears burned behind her eyes. “Oh my God, Christian.” She’d watched her parents die, her sister, her family. But she knew that was nothing compared to watching your small children die in front of you.

“They died, just like everyone else, hurting, bleeding out. They were so small. My daughter, Julia, was only six. Benjamin was eight. And there was nowhere left in any graveyard to bury them when they were gone, and no one alive to come to their funerals. I buried my wife and children in the backyard of our own house. In the backyard, next to the damn family pets. Trevor found me there, on the porch. I was trying to decide how to kill myself when he drove up.” More tears ran down his cheeks.

She scooted over next to him. There was no way she could watch this man crack wide open and sit at a distance. He allowed her to wrap her arms around him. He turned his face and burrowed it in her hair, his shoulders shaking as he wept. His arms came up and tightened around her, his fingers digging into the fabric at the back of her tank.

He was heavy but she took his weight, holding on. “I’m so sorry, Christian. I’m so sorry,” she cried.

They stayed that way for a few minutes, crying together. His pain was her pain. He’d lost everyone he’d loved, and so had she. But she understood his grief was greater, debilitating, and she had to help him through, help him out to the other side. Somehow.

Please God, let him find hope. She’d found hope with Adam, with this home they all shared, why couldn’t Christian find it too?

Finally, they remained still, all the violent emotions from earlier seeming to have drained away, leaving exhaustion in its wake.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand. Christian sat cross-legged, quiet, head bowed. She spied a small glass next to the sink, got up, filled it with water and handed it to him. He held it with trembling hands and gulped it down. She took it back and caught sight of a tube of toothpaste. Maybe he’d like something to chase away the bad taste? She squeezed out a dollop on the tip of her finger and sat back down next to him.

“Here, eat this.”

“What?” He opened his mouth slightly and she swiped her finger against his lips. He grimaced and licked.

“There, all done,” she said briskly.
Just like taking care of a kid.
She stood up and washed her hands, splashed some water on her face. “Okay, Christian, time to get up.”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled.

“Uh, huh. Come on, let me help you.”

After a few false starts, she finally got him up and out the door. They took a few steps together into the master bedroom, and as soon as they hit the edge of the mattress, Christian fell onto the king-size bed and passed out.

“Well,” she whispered, “the other guys are spending the night passed out too in the front room. Guess
my
plans have changed.” Hot sex with Adam back in their room in the main house was out. A rush of dizziness passed over her and she sat, anchoring her body to the bed.

She glanced around the dark, shadowy space. The bed dominated the whole room. Not even a couch or a chair. Christian was already snoring. She frowned. “I could sleep in one of the bunks in the hall, but what if you wake up and get sick again?” She tapped a finger against her cheek. “That’s an awfully big bed you’re hogging there, Christian. How about I sleep next to you so I can keep an eye on you? You probably won’t even notice.” She smiled. “Or remember any of this tomorrow.”

He looked so peaceful. A grown man in a child-like state. Eyes closed, dark lashes brushing against his cheeks, short black hair spiked up in the front, a few days’ worth of stubble on his jaw. Her heart broke. He’d been someone’s son, brother, husband and father. And he’d been through so much. So much. She needed to take care of him.

Rachel turned the lights out and slid onto the bed.

They would laugh about this in the morning.

Her head hit the pillow. She closed her eyes and passed out too.

Chapter Seventeen

“What happens on the bus…stays on the bus. I need to put that on a T-shirt and wear it,” Rachel muttered to herself.

After she’d woken up to Christian asleep next to her in bed the next morning—and had a mini heart attack, but then calmed down when her fuzzy brain remembered all that had happened—Rachel found the courage to tiptoe down the hallway, shake Adam awake on the couch and take him home. They left Trevor and Christian asleep on the bus and walked back to the Victorian house together, not saying a word. Adam’s arm went around her shoulder and she wrapped both of hers around his waist. Back in their room, they brushed their teeth, changed into pajamas, took two Naproxen each and dropped into bed.

“Come here, babe,” Adam rumbled as he pulled her close, curved around her back and kissed her neck.

Heaven
.

And on that note, she’d fallen asleep.

Around noon, she and Adam woke up for good, showered and walked downstairs to have lunch together in the spacious farmhouse kitchen that was beginning to feel like home. It was easy being with Adam. He insisted she sit while he made her coffee just the way she liked—powdered creamer, no sugar. Then he made his own—creamer and two Splenda.

Afterwards, he pulled a PowerBar out of the walk-in pantry and waved it at her. “You want one?” he offered, brown eyes crinkling with mischief.

“No.” She grimaced. “You know I think those things are disgusting. The only way you’d catch me eating one is if I were about to die from starvation, and even then I’d probably commit cannibalism first.”

He took a large bite, pulled her out of her seat, wrapped an arm around her waist and leaned in close, chewing big and smacking his lips. “Ah, now that’s good stuff.”

“Gross,” she exclaimed and pressed hands against his naked chest, trying to get away.

“Sure you don’t want some? There’s lots more where this came from, darling.”

“No, but your arm’s looking pretty tasty right now. Give me that, I just need some salt…” She took hold of his wrist and pretended to take a bite out of his forearm.

He threw back his head and laughed, then leaned down and kissed her hard, his mouth overflowing with PowerBar.

“Stop it! You’re making me sick.” She giggled and elbowed him, slipping out of his reach. “Sit down. I’ll make us something to eat. Something we
both
like.”

His eyebrows shot up, but he did as she asked, walking around to sit on a stool at the counter. Shirtless. Wearing nothing but loose, flannel pajama pants, all bronze skin and sculpted muscles.

“Don’t worry. Even
I
can use the microwave.”

He gave her a skeptical look and took another bite of his PowerBar.

She put her hands on her hips. “I know how to use the microwave.”

He didn’t say a word, just stared at her with those twinkling brown eyes. She looked away first. “I’ll show
you
,” she threw over her shoulder, hoping she really could use the microwave and not burn their food like she’d done last time.

And the time before that.

Five minutes later, she was having trouble concentrating, her eyes continually drifting to Adam as he quietly looked through another old magazine. She noticed he liked to do that in the kitchen. A cup of coffee and a magazine, it was his routine. His strong fingers turned the pages, his face a mask of concentration. Maybe next time she went to town she could raid the Barnes & Noble for him and collect all the magazines, so he’d have a fresh supply. For a while at least.

“I like you like that,” she told him as she opened their packaged meals.

“Like what?”

She smiled. “Reading, without a shirt on.”

He grinned over his coffee cup. “How about you take your shirt off too?”

“Sorry,” she said as she clicked open the microwave. “Trevor or Christian could come through that front door any minute, so…no can do.”

“Sounds like I’m going to need to get some new locks on those doors,” he muttered.

Trying her best to not gawk at Adam’s gorgeous physique, Rachel heated up three chicken and rice meals for them in the microwave. Two for Adam and one for her. She clapped with joy when they came out perfect.

“See,” she told him. “I can cook.”

He glanced up at her. “You can reheat,” he clarified.

Warmth spread across her cheeks. “Adam, I’m trying here.”

“I know.” He smiled, tugged her by the wrist and placed her on his lap. “I know you are.”

“What are you doing?” She laughed. “I’m trying to eat.”

“You sit here and I’ll feed you,” he said.

“On your lap? I can’t eat while sitting on your lap.”

“Yes, you can. Watch.” He fed her a bite of chicken that, considering it was part of their emergency food kits, wasn’t so bad. But sitting on his lap, being spoon fed—it was a little awkward at first. She’d always been that big girl guys never picked up, let alone invited to sit on their laps.

“Relax,” he said. “I want to take care of you.”

She leaned back against his hard chest and let him feed her. Shocking how the simple act of eating lunch could be so intimate.

Then a memory from last night leapt into her brain. She stiffened and sat up in his lap. “Wait, I must be getting over my hangover, because I’m remembering what happened last night. What was up with that?”

“Last night?” Adam swallowed his food and shrugged. “It was about relaxing for once, drinking and getting drunk.”

“No…no,” she exclaimed and tried to get up so she could confront him. He tightened his arm around her waist. She turned to look at him. “The part where Trevor was hitting on me, his hand on my knee, and you two looked at each other and you nodded, Adam, you nodded, like you were giving him the go ahead or something.
That
. That’s what I’m talking about. What was that?”

He sat up straight, turned her more so they could talk, but still kept her on his lap. “Hmm,” he said, not looking the least bit guilty. “Well, that…that was me testing the waters.”

“Testing the waters? What are you talking about? I thought you were pissed at the idea of Trevor hitting on me. Or any man for that matter. Remember what you said?
What’s mine is mine
.” She didn’t realize until that exact moment how much those words had meant to her. How she’d held on to them for dear life. Was this what he meant by sharing her?

“Yep. All of that is true, and I’d kill or at the very least maim any man who touched you without my permission. But that’s the difference, I gave Trevor my permission.”

“Why would you give Trevor your permission to touch me?” Her throat tightened as she croaked out the words.

Oh, crap.

Here it was.

This was where she would find out this whole relationship was in her head. She’d always known it, hadn’t she? Her chest burned. How could she have been so stupid to think she would ever be able to keep a man like Adam? She was the only woman in their little group. He probably thought she was the last woman alive, and that was the only reason she and Adam were together, why he found her attractive. Wasn’t it? Lack of choice and forced proximity would make anyone seem appealing. Maybe he was finally ready to pass her along to Trevor, share her with his new friends. For all she knew, they’d already discussed it.

Oh, God.

Adam’s gaze scanned her face. His voice changed, softened with concern. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“What’s mine is mine, when you said that…that really just meant mine for now, didn’t it?” She dug her fingernails into the inside of her palms. She wasn’t going to yell, wasn’t going to cry, wasn’t even going to fight it. She just needed clarification.

He pushed his plate to the side. “That’s not true.”

Her shoulders slumped. She turned away from him, not wanting him to see her fighting back tears. She wasn’t going to cry. “No, it’s okay. I understand,” she said as she struggled to get out of his arms. Because really, she did. Deep, deep down, she’d always known it wouldn’t last. She felt something he didn’t. It was as simple as that. For him it was lust, scratching an itch, and for her, well, maybe it was more. But it had all been nothing but a fantasy she created in her head.

And the fantasy was over.

He pulled her back and turned her around to face him. She kept her eyes studiously leveled on his chest.

“Rachel,” he rumbled. “Yesterday, Trevor asked me again in private if I would share you with him.”

His words hit like a blow. A sob escaped and tore through her chest. Yep. They’d discussed her, bartered for her like she was a freaking bag of sugar. Planned it out. Well, there was no way in hell she was ever going to—

“Rachel,” Adam cut through her thoughts. “Remember—” he tucked a finger under her chin, “—no one touches you unless you want them to.”

“Uh, huh.” She gave him a curt nod.

Whatever.

This temporary world she’d started to rebuild for herself was crumbling around her, folding like a house of cards. That little ray of hope snuffing out. Tears burned behind her eyes. She tried again to tug out of his embrace.

He held her tight. “Wait. We need to talk. I was going to discuss this with you tonight, but it looks like it needs to be said here and now.” He let out a breath. “Yesterday, Trevor suggested something different.” He paused. “He suggested we share you at the same time.”

“What?” Her head jerked up.

“Trevor said he understood you’re my woman, and that there’s no way he’s getting in there because he could see for himself how you felt about me.”

Her belly fluttered with a strange mixture of happiness and embarrassment at that pronouncement. “I’m your woman? How does he know that?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Rachel, are you in my bed every night?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m fucking you every night, right? And you’re sleeping in my bed. Therefore, you’re my woman, and it’s going to stay that way for the foreseeable future.”

That wasn’t that comforting. It should be, but it wasn’t. All she could think about were his words—
foreseeable future
. What did
that
mean? Did he mean for the next twenty-four hours, the next few weeks or forever?

“He knows he has no way in with you. But he’s hoping we can have a ménage, a threesome, where I’m in charge, I call the shots and he’s the third.”

Her jaw dropped open. “What?” she said again. Her voice weak. “You two were talking about me, about this?”

“Yes. Ménage, you know what that is, don’t you?”

“Yes, sort of,” she said, automatically trying to play the good girl. “Um, it’s both of you having sex with me at the same time.” But seriously, of course she knew what it was. What kind of G-rated porn did he think she watched?

Adam smiled and rubbed his cheek against her hair. His arms felt good wrapped around her waist. “He asked
me
, Rachel. Trevor played this the right way, going through me first. And he asked because it’s not new to him. He’s done it before. He had a relationship with another couple in the past. He remembers it as something good, something that made all of them happy. That they enjoyed.”

“Wow,” she whispered.

“I want to be in charge, call the shots, watch another man pleasure you, fuck you. But all the while I’ll know you’re mine. You know you’re mine, and so does he. He only gets to fuck you, touch you, when I say. And the two of us can fuck you at once. His cock in your ass, and I get your pussy.”

Her heart stuttered in her chest, like a car engine gasping its last breath. Her mouth felt dry and gritty.

“What do you think about what I just said?”

“Well, I…um.” Wow. This was even more over the top than when he’d pushed her against the side of the Hummer and told her about his
needs
. Now she was finding that he was into ménage? She swallowed against the lump in her throat. Who was into ménage in real life?

Adam. Adam was.

Oh, and Trevor too.

Wait, wasn’t ménage something people only did in porn movies?

“Rachel, talk to me.”

She looked into his eyes. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“I know, honey.”

“I’m not sure.”

“Let me guess. You’ll need time to process the idea before you can give me an answer, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Shit, he knew her too well. Her brow furrowed. “Yeah, I need to process it. It’s a lot to take in.”

“And you’re not saying no, right?” He grinned. “You just need time to think.”

“Exactly. I’m not saying no. It’s just a lot to take in,” she repeated.

He took her off his lap and stood up. Adam kissed her gently on the lips. “Okay, you take the time to do that. If you think of any questions, you can ask me later. If you decide you don’t want to have sex with Trevor and me at the same time, it won’t happen. No hard feelings. You will not be made to feel uncomfortable. Not by me, not by Trevor. You understand?”

“I understand.” That had to be the nicest invitation to a ménage anyone had ever had. Her lips twitched.

He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’m done here.” He lifted his chin toward the door. “I’m going to go get dressed and go out to find the others and see what they’re up to. Are you still going to work on the garden today?”

“Yeah,” she agreed absently, still shocked beyond belief at his proposition.

“Okay. Use the walkie-talkie to let me know where you are.” He gave her another soft, gentle kiss on the lips and started to walk away.

“Adam, wait,” she called out. He stopped and turned around.

“Have you ever done it before?” She paused. “Have you ever been in a ménage?”

“Yes. Once before, and not in a relationship.”

“Is this something you’ve always wanted?”

“Yeah, it is.” His voice deepened. “But it’s only something I’d want if you want it too. If you don’t want it, I don’t either.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”