“Do not give me any sass, mister. I used my last bomb on you.”

Logan entered the house and followed the voices. The voice, actually. And the huffs. He made it to the bathroom and pushed the door a little further ajar.

Cerberus was sitting in the bathtub, his front paws on the rim. He was surrounded by bubbles, a long-suffering expression on his face. Sky, her hair in a crazy bun, was sprawled on a chair, her back to Logan. Her cute little feet were propped next to Cerberus’s paws. Some orange, spongy shit separated her toes, the nails bright blue. Like the nails on her hands, which she was blowing on.

“So this is what you meant when you asked about using my bathroom for extracurricular activities,” Logan said, leaning against the doorjamb. He should have asked for specifics before he agreed.

She turned around, her face covered with pink goo. “Hi, you. Spa night. It’s been too long since Arnie had a spa session. He was missing it.”

Arnie put his muzzle between his paws and huffed loudly.

“I’m not sure about that.”

“Oh, you’ll be totally convinced when I rinse and dry him. That’s the part he doesn’t like.”

Logan couldn’t wait to see that.

He motioned at Arnie’s paws. “You painting his nails blue too?”

“Nah. I put some cream on them to help with cracked pads. He’s not used to walking on frozen rocks and dirt. Sidewalks and grass are more his speed.”

Sure, because Cerberus here—with that scar across the left side of his muzzle and the missing right eye and the cut ears and tail—was far too dainty to step on dirt. Logan didn’t say it, though. As far as Sky was concerned, Arnie was gold.

He noticed a small camera was mounted on the sink. “I see you’ve been making videos.”

“YouTube tutorials.” She lifted her hands, palms down, and wiggled her fingers at him. “Nail salvage operation 101.”

“Aren’t your followers going to wonder about the goo on your face?”

“Nah. They’re used to seeing me multitasking.”

“It’s a pity videos don’t capture smell. This place is like a botanical garden.”

“Cleopatra bath bomb,” she said, as if that should be explanation enough.

“Your doing?”

“Nope. That was the last mega-expensive one I got from my former boss. I’ve tried to replicate it, but no dice. I was going to enjoy it in Paris, gazing upon the Eiffel Tower through my bathroom window, a glass of chardonnay in my hand, getting ready for the Paris Fashion Week. To which I had tickets, I might add. After recent events, I figured this was a better use of the bomb.”

“Have you heard from your school?” She just snorted, so he continued, “Okay, I guess it’s safe to assume your request for a transfer didn’t work?”

“The semester starts in February here, so there’s no one to talk to locally yet. But I managed to reach the secretary of the study-abroad program at my school in New York. She laughed at me. She said Paris, Minnesota, is the closest I’m getting to any Paris. I asked her to put me on the waiting list for openings anywhere in the US, as long as the city in question has at least one building taller than ten stories.”

“What are the chances?” he asked, sitting on the rim of the tub.

“Let’s put it this way: if I reduce my threshold to five stories, I might have a shot.”

“Well, worst-case scenario, you spend the spring in Paris, Minnesota. That’s not so bad, right? You could be stuck in prepper town, surrounded by dirty diapers and dubious mushrooms.”

Her chuckle was husky and so damn sexy. “When you put it like that…”

“What’s the plan after Paris, whichever Paris it is? You going back home?”

Sky started shampooing Arnie. “I don’t know. I was so sure I was going to get the job in France, I didn’t think much farther than that. I even sublet my apartment in Brooklyn until the end of my lease. But I’ll manage. I always do. What about you? What’s your plan for the future? Recycle diapers until…”

“Until I’m ready to be recycled myself?”

Her laughter was now wholehearted. “Your words, not mine.”

“Probably. In spite of the craziness, I like it here. I fit, believe it or not.”

“Hold Arnie,” she commanded, grabbing the showerhead.

Being hosed down didn’t seem to work for the beast. As soon as Sky turned the spray on him, Arnie began fighting to get out of the tub, splashing water all over the place. Keeping a seventy-pound slippery hellhound in place was something of an impossibility.

“Arnie, chill. Just a second,” Sky pleaded, trying to dodge the suds flying left and right, rather unsuccessfully, while pink goo ran down her face. Logan wasn’t faring much better. By the time Cerberus was rinsed, half the bathwater was on the floor, and Sky and Logan were soaked and covered in foam.

“Stay, Arnie,” she said, reaching for a towel. “Logan, keep him there.”

Ha. Easier said than done.

The second Arnie saw the towel, he jumped out of the tub and onto them. Logan lost his footing and took Sky down with him, fortunately breaking her fall. “Shit, you okay?” he asked.

Before she could answer, the beast decided he was not going through the aggravation of a towel and a blow-dryer. He shook himself.

Sky turned her face away, hiding it in the crook of Logan’s neck, laughing her sweet ass off. “Damn, Arnie. A blow-dryer is more fun.”

Somehow Logan didn’t see Arnie agreeing. “Sure you’re okay?”

She nodded, brushing the wet hair away from her face.

Logan leaned in and touched his lips to hers. “Is it edible?”

“What? Me?”

“I know you’re edible. I’m referring to the pink goo.”

She nodded.

“Good,” he said and kissed her, getting pink goo all over himself and not giving a flying flip.

A deep growl by his ear broke the spell. Sitting on the floor really gave the beast the upper paw, so to speak. Arnie was hovering over him. “Can you call off your bodyguard before he rips my throat out?”

She waved as if Cerberus were a sweet little puppy and not a killer with huge teeth. “Arnie, let the nice man kiss me. Or I’ll go get the blow-dryer.”

Arnie huffed and backed down. Not much though.

“So, where were we?” she asked, turning back to Logan. “Ah, yes, you were hungry and going to lick my face.”

“Can I choose what to lick? I got condoms.”

She chuckled softly. “Is that your subtle way of telling me you want to have sex?”

“As opposed to stripping you bare and shoving my cock deep inside you, which is what I want to do? Yeah, that was my subtle way.”

“Umm, I don’t know,” she said against his lips. “Are you able to breathe through your nose while your mouth is otherwise occupied?”

He proceeded to demonstrate, kissing her thoroughly, his hard-on pressing against her. “Convinced?”

“Totally.” She wiped mascara from his beard. “I made dinner.”

He knew. He’d seen the table and candles on his way to the bathroom. “Can it wait?” he asked, trailing kisses along her throat. Because whatever it was, he’d rather eat her.

She pulled her wet T-shirt over her shoulders. “Most definitely.”

Man. Her nipples were hard and puckered. Begging for his mouth. “Camera’s off, right?”

Her laugh was husky. “Yep.”

Good. “We need to do something about Rottenmeier.” Arnie wasn’t exactly breathing down Logan’s neck, but he was too damn close. The second Sky let out a sound the dog didn’t like, Logan was toast.

“Don’t worry. Arnie always gets a nice treat after his bath. He’ll be entertained for a while. Half an hour, give or take. So chop-chop.”

He kissed her. “Aren’t we bossy.”

“Half an hour isn’t much time. Unless you’re one of those five-minute speedsters, in which case I might reconsider—”

“Oh, no, no. We are not reconsidering shit,” he said, holding her by her ass and standing up. “Where’s the doggie treat?”

“It’s in the bag by the sink,” she said, trying to pull off his wet shirt.

“Wrap your legs around me.” He reached over his shoulder blades and whipped his shirt off while she rummaged in the bag and produced a bone stick wrapped in what looked like dried chicken meat.

“Here, Arnie,” she said, throwing it to the floor.

Cerberus took it and followed them into the hallway. “Sorry, buddy, you stay outside,” Logan said as they made it to his bedroom and closed the door on the dog.

“That will piss him off. Once he’s finished his treat, he’ll start scratching and howling. Given time, he’ll figure out how to open the door.”

Logan set her on the bed. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” He leaned over her and kissed her breasts while she busied herself unbuttoning his jeans.

“You’re far too bossy,” he said, grabbing her hands and pulling them over her head. Then he reached for his nightstand and got handcuffs from the drawer. Before she could react, he’d fastened one on her wrist.

“Hey,” she complained.

“I love strong, independent women, but in bed, I’m in charge.” He drew the other cuff through the slats in the headboard and fastened it to her other wrist.

She pinned him with her stare. “Sorry to break it to you, but you are not in charge. Arnie is. In twenty-eight minutes, he’s going to chew through your door. Much, much faster if I scream.” She tried to look offended, but the way she was squirming and pressing her legs together told him she was turned on.

“I’ll take my chances,” he said with a shrug, chucking his jeans to the floor.

“I knew you were kinky. Bearded men always are.”

“Haven’t been with any bearded men, so I can’t compare. But yeah, I am kinky. Now, let’s get these panties off you so I can see the pussy I’ve been fantasizing about for the last week.”

He yanked the cloth down, revealing a cutely trimmed muff of black ringlets. She spread open. “Full-bush Brazilian is the name. Hair on the mound, lips waxed. It’s very much in fashion now. Plus I thought I was going to France. I wanted to blend in.”

He chuckled softly, unable to rip his gaze from her sweet pussy. “If you wanted to blend in, you should have studied French, like any normal person would.”

She ignored his jab. “No vajazzles. No pussy piercings. No landing strip. Disappointed?”

“Nope. Not disappointed. Although, kinky freak that I am, I prefer my women waxed.” Holding her by her inner thighs, he took a leisurely lick from her opening to her clit.

She sucked in a breath, her body tensing at the intimate caress, but tried to cover it by clicking her tongue and wrestling back control of the conversation. “And I prefer my men shaved. I’ll let you do mine if you let me do yours.”

“I don’t think so, babe. Besides, I have you tied to my bed. I don’t need to strike a bargain.”

He was kidding, of course. He would never do anything she didn’t agree to, but it was fun to poke her.

She didn’t cower. Not even for a second. “Do you want to see how fast I can get Arnie to break down the door and eat you alive?” Her smile was so sweetly deceptive, it was captivating.

He rimmed her slit with the tip of his fingers, relishing her squirms of pleasure. She didn’t want to give in to him, he could tell, but she couldn’t hide how her body reacted. How her pussy creamed at his touch. “No need. I’ll take your word for it.”

“So you know, full-bush Brazilian is the perfect style for hippies with porny lives. And a hipster is nothing but a modern hippie.”

“I’ve told you many times—not a hipster.”

“Okay. Preppers with porny lives.”

He lifted his gaze to her, amused. “Do preppers have porny lives?”

“Of course. What else is there to do in off-the-grid land?”

She had a point. “Let’s give it a test drive. I’m here to service you, after all.”

He licked her smooth folds, exploring every inch of her flesh, lapping at her spasming entrance. Then he slid his lips up to her pulsing clit and sucked it while she writhed and pulled at the cuffs.

“Fucking sweet, babe.”

“I need to come, Logan.”

“Not yet.” He probed her with his fingers, first one, then two, moving inside her, learning her hot spots, taking his time. Humming against her swollen clit, keeping her on the edge but not applying enough pressure to send her over.

“Now,” she urged, her whole body trembling.

He blew against her core, making her back bow. “I said not yet. I want you dripping wet and soft before I fuck you.”

He built her up, little by little, until her clit was throbbing against his tongue and her pussy clamped rhythmically around his fingers. She was panting and whimpering in desperate need, so ready to come that she was glowing.

Suddenly, there was a loud blast. It took him a second to realize it wasn’t his blood rushing in his ears but a fucking siren.

Sky stilled. “What’s that? A tornado warning?”

“That, or the preppers are having an evacuation drill. I lean toward the latter option.”

“Should we—”

“Fuck, no. Let’s lie low and pretend we’re not home,” he said, going back to licking her. If there was a tornado, they’d find out soon enough.

Either Arnie had finished his snack or the siren had startled him, because he was yelping and scratching at the door. “Ignore him,” Sky said, lifting her hips.

Sure thing. Fuck everyone. They weren’t leaving his bed until—

His thoughts were interrupted by a car horn. A long stream of honkings, as a matter of fact.

“What now?” she groaned in exasperation.

“My sister.” Picking him up for whatever crazy-assed drill they were having.

His cell started ringing. Arnie, being no slouch, decided barking his lungs out was the thing to do in that situation.

Logan closed his eyes and leaned his face into her stomach. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Sorry, baby. We need to go.”

* * *

This was so not happening. “Are you serious?” she choked out.

“I’m afraid so. I’ll make it up to you later, I swear. Get dressed.” Logan reached for the keys, unlocked one cuff, freed her from the headboard, and jumped off the bed. “Dark clothes. Camo if you’ve got it.”

She snorted, sitting up. “You’re joking, right? The closest I’ve gotten to camo was watching—with contempt, I might add—an episode of Duck Dynasty.”

“Black sweatpants then.”

Sure, like she had packed that for Paris. The only sweatpants she had were gold and pink. Prada, spring collection.

“Where’s the key for the cuffs?” she asked, looking around.

“I left it on the bed,” Logan shouted from the closet.

Sky patted the bedsheets but no luck. “Can’t find it.”

Logan came back carrying a big rucksack. He left it on the floor and lifted the bedcovers. No key. “Maybe it fell on the floor?”

Sky pointed at the rucksack, ominously similar to the ones she’d seen the 10K participants carry. “Don’t tell me. Bug-out bag?”

“Bug-out bag. We need to hurry. They time these drills. If we mess up their schedule, we won’t ever live it down. Get ready. I’ll search for the key.”

Where had she gone wrong? She’d had a nice, comfortable city life. Friday meant cosmopolitans, sexy clothes, and a fancy date with dinner and dancing. Hot sex if she was lucky. Now? She was in the middle of nowhere, getting ready for an evacuation drill, her mascara down her chest, her hair a mess, and her clit hurting like a bitch from not coming. No dinner. No dancing.

She heard the front door opening and a woman yelling, “Logan! Move it! Where are you?”

“My sister got tired of waiting outside.”

“Forget the key and go meet her downstairs,” Sky urged him. “Before she gets in here. Or worse, before Arnie attacks her.”

“Fuck.” Logan grabbed the bag and dashed out of the room. “We’re coming! Go back to the car. Give us a minute.”

“You got thirty seconds,” was the annoyed reply.

Sky pulled the first long-sleeved-shirt she could find over herself, hoping to cover the cuffs hanging from one wrist. It was Logan’s, so it went down to her knees. Whatever. She ran to her room and put on the pink-and-gold sweatpants and the black-and-red rubber boots. Jesus Christ, talk about hillbillying it.

She grabbed her cell and dashed downstairs. Logan was holding the front door for her. Arnie stood guard at the foot of the stairs. Outside, the horn on a big, black truck was blaring.

“About time,” said the driver, a gruff man dressed in camo, as they jumped in the vehicle. A woman with pixie-cut hair, also wearing camo, was riding shotgun. Megan, Logan’s sister, Sky presumed.

“If you batshit wackos would schedule your damn drills at a more reasonable hour, or let us know beforehand, this wouldn’t happen,” Logan snapped back. The truck’s engine roared to life, and they sped down the road.

“It wouldn’t be much of an emergency evacuation drill if we gave notice beforehand, would it?” the pixie lady said. “We were nice enough to wait for you to get over your flu, so don’t complain.”

“What an honor. And you are giving back my keys. As in right fucking now.”

Amused, Megan gave Sky a knowing once-over. “Why? Anything you’ve neglected to tell me?”

Feeling self-conscious, Sky pulled her sleeves lower, ensuring the cuffs were out of sight. The faint rattle at every bump in the road was bad enough.

Logan took her hand and squeezed it. To his sister, he said, “That’s why.” He gestured at Arnie. The dog was alert, his paws on Sky, guarding her. “Cerberus here might not be so understanding next time.”

“Alec is very good with animals,” Megan said, looking at the driver. “But don’t worry. I won’t barge in again. Just in case.”

The way Megan was smiling at her, Sky knew she wasn’t referring to Arnie.

“You guys reek of… I don’t know what. Roses? Vanilla?” Alec asked, never moving his eyes from the road.

“A Cleopatra bath bomb. Arnie had a spa session,” Logan answered.

“I see. And the pink stuff?” Megan asked, pointing at his neck. She didn’t wait for an answer, instead offering her hand to Sky. “I’m Megan, sister of Mr. Rude and Bad Liar.”

“Sky. Patient Zero,” she said, shaking Megan’s hand. “Where are we going?”

“Bugging out. Emergency evacuation drill.”

Right. Like that meant anything to Sky.

Nevertheless she kept quiet until they arrived at a clearing where other vehicles awaited: two pickup trucks, one panel van, one decommissioned school bus, and a livestock hauler.

“Looks like everyone is here,” Alec said.

“Why on earth are there animals in that truck?” Sky asked. As far as she could see, there were a couple of cows, a handful of pigs, and some chickens.

“Livestock is trained to bug out too,” Logan answered.

That did it. She might sound like a moron, but she had to ask. “What exactly does it mean to bug out?”

“Move to a secured, secondary location. Ideally a place you can reach on one tank of fuel.”

“Okay. Any clue when we’ll make it to the secondary location and how long we’ll be there? This was kind of sudden, and I don’t have my necessities with me.” These people were taking cows with them, for God’s sake, and she didn’t even have any underwear on.

Megan’s gaze shot to Logan, her eyes round. “You didn’t bring a bug-out bag for her? What were you thinking?”

“Normal people don’t have bug-out bags, Megan,” he said, sounding ticked off. “I have one because you bullied me into it. I don’t have spare ones for unsuspecting guests. I’d prefer to live inconspicuously and not end up in the loony bin, thank you very much.”

His sister didn’t seem to take offense. If anything, she looked aggravated. “You’ll make us lose points.”

“Cerberus here should make up for them. He’s scary enough to be an asset to survivalists, right?”

Megan considered that for a second, then nodded.

Hopefully there were no stairs wherever they were going, or Arnie was going to be downgraded pretty fast. If these preppers with their livestock trained to bug out saw that her livestock couldn’t make it up to the second floor without being carried, bye-bye street cred.

At that moment the pocket on her jacket started vibrating. Her phone. She checked caller ID. Lola. Look at that—outside the damn town, there was signal. “Hi,” Sky answered.

“Hi, sis! I thought I’d call to check in. How’s your Friday? What are you doing? Having fun?”

“Can’t talk now. We’re in the middle of an emergency evacuation.”

Silence from the other end of the line. Then— “What? What do you mean, emergency evacuation?” Lola shrieked. “What’s going on out there?”

Sky looked around at the armed people talking to Alec, all of them dressed in military attire. “Not sure yet. We’re either invading the neighboring county or turning into cattle thieves. Take your pick.” Hell, maybe both.

“You okay?”

“Yes, I’m okay. It’s just a drill. I’ll talk to you later.” She cut her sister off. Sky couldn’t explain what was happening because she barely understood it herself. And Lola would never believe her anyway. “My sister,” she said to the others.

“Won’t she worry?” Megan asked.

Sky waved it off. “Tomorrow she’ll wake up with a killer hangover from the sweet cocktails she’s been drinking at a fancy club, and probably convince herself she imagined the whole conversation.”

Maybe if Sky was lucky, she too would get sloshed and forget tonight ever happened. Then again, her throbbing clit, hard nipples, and unfulfilled lust were going to be a sore reminder. There was neither sex nor peace to be had on a Friday night in redneck land.

“Send her a picture,” Megan suggested. “To set her mind at ease.”

Sure. Because a picture of Sky looking the way she did was going to calm Lola down. No number of cocktails would be enough to stop her sister from charging to Minnesota. Not to mention if Sky ever made something of herself, that picture would haunt her forever. It would be her wardrobe malfunction. Her Watergate. Her Lewinsky. All of them rolled into one.

Alec came back and the vehicles moved out onto an unlit, bumpy track that took them into the forest.

Arnie rested his head on Sky’s lap and relaxed. Maybe it was the steady bumping, or the hum of the heating, or the fact that it was dark outside and everything looked the same, but soon she was burrowing into Logan, who wrapped her in his arms. Wherever they were going, they could wake up when they got there.

* * *

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she felt Logan gently shaking her.

“We’re here, Butterfly,” he said, kissing the top of her head. She opened her eyes, peeked through the window, and realized they had stopped in front of a compound. A bunch of people, also dressed in camo, were coming and going, unloading stuff and cows.

“Can you give me a hand? We need to scout the launch site to ensure the drones can take off,” Alec asked Logan as they stepped off the truck.

Logan turned to Sky. “You going to be okay? I have to go.”

“She’ll be fine,” Megan answered. “I’ll look after her.”

Sky nodded. Her expression might have been a bit freaked out, because Logan cupped her face with both hands and kissed her. He smiled reassuringly. “Go with my sister. I’ll be back in no time.”

Megan stopped her as the men walked off, and produced a pin from her pocket. “Give me your hand. The left one.”

Sky obeyed. Pulling up the sleeve, Megan unlocked the cuff. “We don’t want the others seeing these hanging from your wrist. You’ll never hear the end of it.”

Sky felt her face light up like a traffic signal. “You noticed?”

Megan nodded and handed Sky the cuffs. “You also have pink glop in your hair. I was going to ask what you and my bro were getting up to, but the cuffs answered that.”

Sky hurried to hide them in her sweatpants pocket as they headed toward the compound. “Whatever you’re imagining, it hasn’t happened. We keep getting interrupted.”

And they were running out of time. The school had contacted her just that morning to let her know she could move into her apartment in Paris on Sunday. Get started on preparing for classes and becoming acquainted with the school’s facilities. She’d called the rental agency and arranged for another car to be delivered to Logan’s house.

She hadn’t told Logan yet. She’d planned to finish washing Arnie, serve the nice supper, and break the news to him over wine.

Megan laughed. “If you can control your gag reflex, I suggest you try getting it on in the greenhouse, when his students have the day off. No one goes in there. Privacy is at a premium in this town.”

“Where did Logan go?” Sky asked as they entered the main building of the compound. She didn’t know these people. Without her Brazilian ass or boob contour—heck, her underwear—she was feeling exposed and self-conscious.

“Out back. He and Alec operate our drone data collection operation. My brother isn’t too big on this prepper stuff. He does it mainly for me.”

“So you are big on it?”

Megan shrugged. “I’m big on Alec. I go where he goes. Alec’s military expertise is in high demand among preppers, so here we are. My training as a doula appeals to them too. After all, in case of the apocalypse, they’ll need babies to repopulate the earth.”

Sky couldn’t tell if Megan was pulling her leg or not. Probably not, which was frightening. To think that in a major disaster, only this gene pool would survive? Humanity was doomed. Fashion was a goner for sure. Although Megan was admittedly rocking the commando-chick look.

Sky motioned at Megan’s engagement ring. “Alec is your fiancé?” She remembered Logan calling him his future brother-in-law.

“Yes,” Megan answered. “I kept turning him down, but he wouldn’t let it go. I made a bet with him and I lost.”

“What kind of bet?”

“I told him if I wasn’t dead in a year, I’d marry him. I’m not dead. I lost.”

Logan had said his sister was sick; he hadn’t mentioned how serious it was. “It seems to me you won.”

“I did,” Megan conceded, her expression softening. “Anyway, I’m glad you and I finally met. I would have come over to introduce myself—by which I mean, check you out—earlier, but I had to go to Minneapolis right after you arrived. When I got home and back on my feet, Logan was sick. Neither Alec nor Logan were on board with me visiting without a hazmat suit. Overprotective men. In hindsight they were right, although for the wrong reasons. We’re a crazy bunch as it is—no need to be wearing hazmat suits to make the introduction worse.”

Amen to that.

“Yo, Patient Zero, did you bring your beauty stuff?” It was Sierra, fitness guru and champion bowler.

“No. Sorry.”

“Pity. We could have held the crash course here.” Sierra lifted a box and carried it to what looked like the kitchen.

“That’s right!” Megan said, sitting by the fireplace and taking off her jacket. “I’ve heard about your miracles.”

Sky would have followed Megan’s lead and taken off her jacket, but she was feeling too ashamed of her ensemble. “No miracles. They’re just tricks. How to enhance some things, how to make others fade into the background. We all want what we don’t got and vice versa. Fashion is my thing. Not that the way I look at the moment supports my claim.”

“What would you do with this?” Megan pulled the hem of her sweater over her head, revealing a tank top and the edges of a big, colorful tattoo covering her chest where her breasts would have been. “How do you create cleavage when you’ve got nothin’?”

Breast cancer.

Sky composed herself and answered as matter-of-factly as she could. “In your case, it’s not so much about what you’ve lost, but what you’ve gained. That’s a kickass, fuck-cancer survivor’s tattoo. You should show it off. It’s so vivid and has so much depth, it looks 3D. The pattern has texture and extra dimension. It’s all you need.”

“I like you,” Megan said after a short pause. “Which is a first. I tend to dislike the women my brother gets involved with. They’re all stuck-up bitches. They’d never wear Prada with rubber boots, or a man’s shirt that’s ten sizes too big.”

“In all honesty, neither would I. This was an emergency.”

Megan laughed. “I bet it was.”

“Now what?” Sky asked, glancing around. “I’m new at this. Do we sit around the fireplace and eat s’mores?”

“Nope. I’m in charge of checking storage inventory. The supplies are in the underground bunker. You want to join me?”

“Sure. Are panties considered part of inventory? I’m in need of those.”

* * *

Sky was leaning on the stone wall around the outdoor grill, breathing deep, Arnie investigating the snowbanks nearby, when she felt strong arms close around her.

“What are you doing?” Logan asked, resting his chin on the top of her head. “You’ll freeze.”

“I needed fresh air. I was with your sister down in the bunker.” Underground bunkers built from reinforced shipping containers felt a bit claustrophobic, to say the least. The fact that this one had been full to the ceiling with shelves of staples didn’t make matters better.

“Ah.”

“She showed me her tattoo,” Sky said in a whisper. “You never told me she was that sick.”

“She was. Alec is the best thing that ever happened to her. She would be dead if it weren’t for him. Now she’s happy, getting healthy, and about to get married. She wants a civil ceremony. Something quick—you know, stop by during your lunch break and tie the knot. Alec won’t hear of it.”

“He’s going to win, isn’t he?”

Logan nodded. “Definitely.”

“This is so not going to happen again,” she said after a long pause.

“You already regretting you came along?”

“Of course not. No way am I staying alone in that crazy town. I could end up kidnapped and autopsied. I mean that I’m getting my own bug-out bag. Have you looked at me? I look like a street addict, for crying out loud. I’ve been scolded for my appearance by people who consider Velcro a fashionable item. I was even offered a camo suit so that, I quote, ‘I could get out of those horrible clothes.’”

He chuckled. “I think you look gorgeous.”

“I think the fumes from dirty diapers have burned your retinas.”

“You’re fucking funny. Either way, I wouldn’t worry about bug-out bags if I were you. We probably won’t do this again before the semester starts. You’ll be safe in Paris by then.”

Ugh. Paris. She’d forgotten that for a moment.

“About that,” she started. Then she was sidetracked as a group of people armed to the teeth began to cover the school bus with camo netting. “Are you sure this place isn’t run by a doomsday cult instead of preppers?” she asked, lowering her voice.

Logan laughed, tightening his embrace. “Sure? No, I’m not sure. But these people are going out with a bang. No way are they committing collective suicide. Which is not to say they aren’t suicidal maniacs, because they are.”

“Right,” she muttered. “And you have it for a fact they aren’t some sort of violent militia with a secret agenda, set on overthrowing the government or some shit like that?”

“Please. They can’t even decide on a name for the town. No way would they agree on a common agenda.”

“Good to know,” she said, shifting her feet. “The last thing I need is for the Feds to blow the compound to kingdom come. Or raid it and I get booked looking like this. Wait—it may be better if they blow it, actually.”

“Stay still,” he whispered in her ear.

His husky voice gave her goose bumps. “Can’t. I’m… antsy.”

“You aren’t antsy. You’re horny.”

That too. “That humongous erection against my behind is not helping.”

“Tell me about it. You wiggling that sweet ass around is making it worse. Settle down.” He put a hand on her belly and pressed his cock forward. “Let me help.” He kissed her neck, his hand slipping under her sweatpants.

Her breath caught in her throat. “What are you doing?”

“Hmm… babe? Why does your underwear reach up past your waist?”

“Because it’s not mine,” she retorted. “Did you know they keep camo boxers as an inventory item in the underground bunker?”

“You’re wearing camo boxers?” he asked, sounding way too amused.

“Do not remind me. Fashion-wise, this is by far my lowest point ever. I’m an embarrassment to the industry. If at some point we’re going to get smashed on moonshine, I hope it corrodes my brain. Especially the part that stores short-term memory. This is a night I need to forget.”

“What you need to do is come,” Logan said, reaching lower and brushing her sensitive pussy lips. “Your whole body is humming. Your nipples are hard. Your clit too.”

She fought to speak while he caressed her. “You were eating me out when that stupid alarm went off. If you hadn’t teased me, I would have come several times before the drill started.”

“I’ll make it up to you now.” He trailed his finger along her slit and sank it between her slick folds.

“Here? Are you nuts? There are people all around us.” Granted, she and Logan had a chest-high stone wall in front of them, but still. Preppers were buzzing everywhere, and at any second one could stray close and strike up a conversation.

“I can get you off without anyone noticing. You just need to be quiet.” He slid two fingers inside her and swallowed her moans with a demanding kiss.

“But I like making sounds,” she complained, her core flexing to accommodate him. “Let’s go farther out. I’m sure we can find a dark thicket.” She’d never been one to enjoy nature, but difficult times called for difficult decisions.

He flickered his tongue into the hollow behind her ear. “Have you forgotten where we are, Butterfly? There are motion detectors all over this compound. Trail cameras. Boobytraps. Preppers are trigger-happy at the best of times, never mind when they’re running drills. And we’re back to making do with goat intestines. I don’t carry condoms in the bug-out bag.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” She must have lost her ever-loving mind, because she said something she’d never thought she’d say in a million years. “Let’s risk it. I’m on the pill. You clean? I’d rather avoid syphilis if I can.”

He tightened his embrace while slowly finger fucking her. “I’m clean. Negative on all STDs, syphilis included, but if I know something about anything, it’s pills. Birth control pills are very sensitive to interactions with other medicine—and to puking. You’ve been sick and you’ve taken cold medicine, so the pill might not work. Plus, I’m warning you, any child of mine will live with me. I don’t believe in hospitals, and my sister is a doula. Need I say more? If you want to go bareback, I’m all for it, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She froze. “Step away from me. Two feet between us at all times.”

“I’m kidding, Butterfly,” he said with a low chuckle. “Not about the pills, though.”

“So we’re back to dry humping.”

“We’re back to you staying still and letting me work my magic. I can still taste you, babe. I close my eyes and I’m between your legs, licking this glorious pussy, feeling it contracting around my tongue. It makes me so fucking hard, I can’t think.”

“Logan…”

“Shhh. Ride my hand. Open your legs a bit. Gimme space to get deep in you.”

She obeyed, whimpering as he took full advantage and pushed his fingers all the way in.

“Yeah, like that,” he whispered hoarsely, his cock tightly pressed against her ass. “Can’t wait to have you. There are so many things I want to do to you, so many ways I want to fuck you, you won’t be able to walk properly for a week after I get my hands on you.”

Oh, God, just those words had her gasping for breath and on the verge, her core clamping around him tighter and tighter. “Please…”

“So sweet. Love how your tiny pussy sucks my fingers in. You’re getting close. Your body is tensing. Your hips are lifting. You want me to fuck you harder, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

He obliged her, sinking deeper in her and rubbing the heel of his hand on her clit at the same time, her legs almost giving way at the intense pleasure. Man, he did know what he was doing.

She reached behind and grabbed his cock, squeezing hard, relishing how it jerked.

“No,” he growled. “Or I’ll end up fucking you in front of everyone, with Arnie chewing at my throat. This is for you, Butterfly. Come for me. Show me what this pussy can do.”

She exploded in his arms as if on command. She would have shouted her release, but at the last second, he shut her up with an all-consuming kiss that brought her even higher.

“Logan?” she let out when she regained her speech capabilities.

“Yeah?”

“Forget the moonshine corroding my short-term memory. I absolutely want to remember this.”

He kissed the top of her head and chuckled. “Good.”