Chloe

The sky outside is grey when I wake up, the rain still coming down hard, tapping the roof and hissing outside the window.

The door opens, while I'm still trying to figure out if it's morning or evening. Rider walks in carrying a covered tin can in one hand, and plates and spoons in the other. He's wearing a pair of jeans and nothing else, droplets of water sliding down his torso, driving all other thoughts from my mind, save for the happiness that he's back, that he's mine.

"Did you bring me breakfast in bed?" I ask and grin at him as he struggles to close the door behind him with his leg.

"You could say that. Though this is actually dinner," he says, smiling widely.

"A girl could get used to that," I say coyly.

"Yeah, it's probably best that you don't," he says. "I'm not much for romance. If you weren't awake yet, I'd happily eat all this food by myself."

"I figured that too," I say and get up to clear the little table by the window so he can set the food down.

I'm naked, and I feel his gaze all along my back and ass like a warm summer breeze.

When I turn he's still standing by the door, his eyes swallowing me up, heating me like I'm standing next to an open fire.

"I suppose you're responsible for me not wearing any clothes," I say.

My voice breaks his trance, and he walks over and puts the food on the table.

"You were dead to the world," he says. "And you were soaked right through. I had no choice, but to undress you. I kinda wished you'd wake up, but you didn't."

"So you didn't take advantage of me while I was incapacitated?" I ask and take the tin can to open it.

I very nearly drop it, as he picks me up and sits down on one of the rickety chairs with me on his lap. I do manage to set it down, before his kiss takes the last of my control over my body from me. His kiss is better than riding the waves, better than floating on the water with nothing but the horizon stretching before me, better than lazy summer afternoons, better than smelling the ocean, the flowers of spring, better than being free.

"I wish you had woken me last night," I murmur.

"Me too," he agrees.

He wraps his arm around my waist to hold me steady in his lap. I arrange the plates then hold the can of food, so he can open it and pour the stew onto our plates. Once I start eating, all else flees my mind. I don't remember being this hungry in a long time, or enjoying my food quite this much. I can't find a thing to say except, "This is good".

"I made it," Rider says. "Someone had to. Ed and Olivia are up and about, but they're not much for doing anything other than resting. How do you feel?"

I'm very aware of my nakedness, of his mostly hard cock jabbing me in the butt cheek, of the fact that I want him naked too, and of all the things we could do together then. But in all seriousness…

"Muscles I didn't know I had are hurting," I tell him in between bites of the very good stew he made.

"Figured you'd say that," he says squeezing my thigh. "Pity."

"Give me a little time to digest this food, and then ask me again," I say and grin at him over my shoulder.

His lips are so close and look so tasty I can't resist. He tastes better than any food I've ever had, and his kisses are way more nourishing.

Soon, we're in bed, entwined together so intricately I can no longer distinguish between us clearly. He's naked now too, but we're still just kissing, because I think he's tired too, he must be, since he practically moved that whole pile of rocks by himself last night. And kept this place going all day today while me, Ed and Olivia rested.

"I guess we should start planning our departure from here tomorrow," I say once we're just lying there in each other's arms and staring into each other's eyes. His are the exact shade of green as the sea sometimes is right before a storm, when the last of the sunshine finds its way through the clouds.

"What do you mean?" he asks hoarsely. I think he's ready to fall asleep.

"You were right," I say. "It's too dangerous to try and go against the cartel. We should pack up and find another place to make our camp."

"I was right about the cartel," he says, brushing the hair off my forehead. "But I was wrong for leaving you, and not being willing to make a stand against them by your side. Although maybe that turned out for the best."

It's my turn to give him a confused look.

"I'll make a call tomorrow," he says. "And hopefully that will lead to a productive discussion with the cartel about letting us keep this place."

The way he says "productive" makes me think of violence for some reason.

"Who are you gonna call?" I ask, figuring he means his biker friends, but they're all very far away, so that makes no sense.

"I'll tell you when it's arranged," he says in a tone that suggests he's done talking. "If it fails, we'll leave. But if we stay, we should move the kids up to the big house. I'm sure there's enough room for twice as many in there."

Hearing him make these plans for us, for the kids, makes me love him more, in a way I've never loved another. With him by my side, I could do all those things I wanted to do—help these kids, make a difference—-so much better, so much easier. I just hope I give him back a fraction of what he's already given me.

"It'll take us months to clear out the house. Dom Gustavo was a great man, but he was also a life-long packrat. I don't think there's more than a single sofa to lay down on in that whole house. The rest of it is just packed with stuff."

"That's good," he says. "We'll need stuff to sell to keep this place going."

"If we can find anyone to sell all that junk to," I muse.

"People love junk. And I bet the old guy had some valuable shit up there," he says, caressing my back and yawning loudly. "But let's continue this conversation in the morning. I need some sleep now."

I stop talking even though my mind is exploding with all the plans his suggestion fired off. But before long, the rhythmic tapping of the rain on the roof, his even breaths, and the safety and belonging I feel in his arms gives me peace too.