Truck Stop Tempest

by Daniels, Krissy

  Tito’s eyes crinkled at the corners before he pressed his lips to my ear and whispered, “I knew there was a beast inside you.”

  What?

  “Good job handling your mother.” He kissed my cheek, pushed off the wall, and gave my butt a hard slap. “No hiding. Shake off whatever the hell she said to you. Get back out there, do your job, and don’t let those fuckers ruin your day.”

  With that, Tito turned and sauntered away, leaving me to bask in his ocean of encouragement. I didn’t go to the bathroom. I straightened my shoulders, adjusted my apron, and got my ass to work.

  I needed to get my ass back to work. Should have been home, getting shit together for my upcoming excursion with Tucker, or at the mansion, making sure renovations were on schedule. Instead, I made myself comfortable in Slade’s office and waited for Tuuli’s break.

  Halfway through the eleven o’clock news, she stepped through the door, face flushed, shirt stained. More gorgeous than ever.

  “Hey,” I said, lacking the capacity for anything manlier, like, “Fuck, baby, you look good enough to eat.” Or “Bring that sweet smile over here and wrap it around my cock.”

  Those were the first thoughts that came to mind. But I wouldn’t speak words like that to the woman who’d completely shifted my universe. She deserved better. I refrained from verbalizing my feelings, stretched my arms across the back of the couch, and drank her in.

  “Hi.” Her gaze landed on my chest, then drifted lower. Apparently, her mind was in the gutter right alongside mine. Damn, I loved watching that blush spread over her cheeks. Made every hour I’d spent in the gym or hitting the pavement worth the bloody knuckles and blisters.

  “Eyes up here, Bunny,” I teased, pointing to my face.

  Dear sweet, baby Jesus, her laughter was a shot of adrenaline straight to my ego.

  A thousand years of worry seemed to lift from her shoulders. “You’re still here.”

  “Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  Her gaze dropped to the floor, her foot bouncing in that cute, nervous tic. “Yeah, my mom. Sorry you had to see that. I hate her.”

  “No, you don’t. You don’t have a hateful bone in your body.”

  “Fine. I love her. But I hate that she wants that life for me.”

  I wasn’t about to engage in a conversation about maternal influence. My mother had wanted a different life for me. Her dreams had sent me into the parochial bowels of hell. “How long is your break?”

  “I’ve got fifteen minutes.”

  “Walk with me?” I grabbed her hand before she could respond and headed through the back door to avoid the nosey blonde out front.

  We headed across the parking lot and down the trail that led to the hidden beach below The Truck Stop’s property line. Tuuli didn’t speak. Neither did I, distracted by the fit of our hands, the way my calloused palm scraped her soft skin, making me hyperaware of our connection.

  I straddled a large driftwood log, and sat, pulling her with me.

  The beach was deserted and quiet, the only noise coming from the quiet splash of waves lapping the shore. Across the bay, my uncle’s home stood out like a sore thumb. Like The Truck Stop, the Rossi Estate didn’t quite fit with the landscape, but it belonged, as much a part of Whisper Springs as the mountains and pines.

  “I’m going out of town for a few days on business. I need you to look me in the eye and tell me that you’re okay.”

  Tuuli turned, straddling my thighs, and dusted a finger over my cheek. “I’m more okay than I’ve been in a very long time.”

  “You’re still having nightmares.”

  She studied my scar before settling on my eyes. “I don’t expect them to go away anytime soon.”

  “Slade said you could sleep upstairs in their spare bedroom while I’m gone.”

  A huff. “Tito. I’m a big girl. I can handle bad dreams.”

  “There’s not much you can’t handle.” I grabbed her ass and scooted her closer, bringing her soft warmth to my hard heat. “What did your mom want today?”

  “My womb.” There was no hiding the pain that truth caused.

  “God, that’s so fucked.”

  She circled her arms around me and dropped her head to my shoulder. Swear to Christ, a fifth chamber grew in my heart just for her. How had I lived without this connection?

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “A week. Give or take a day.”

  “What will you be doing?”

  “Working with Tucker.”

  “On the road?”

  God, I hated having to say, “It’s confidential.”

  My girl didn’t probe. Instead, she sat back, hands on my shoulders and mustered a stern glare. “Promise me something?”

  “Yeah, Bunny.”

  “Be careful. They haven’t caught the Rest Area Reaper. The last two attacks happened in Idaho.”

  I held my laughter at bay, but I couldn’t contain my smile. She worried about me. Shit, if she only knew. I wished I could tell her the truth. Tucker was the Reaper. “You have nothing to worry about. You said it yourself, I’m indestructible.”

  She gnawed her bottom lip, shooting a glance over my shoulder. “I should get back to work.”

  “Kiss me first.”

  Tuuli tilted her head, a playful smiling highlighting her face. She scooted higher up my thighs, then leaned forward and fisted my shirt before crushing my mouth with an enthusiastic assault. Her legs curled around my waist, her arms around my neck, and her tongue swept over mine. I absorbed her affections, giving her full rein, and damn did she rise to the occasion, pressing her full weight against me, rolling her hips, grinding, kissing me deep, and slow, and with more passion than any person should be allowed to possess.

  I was putty in her hands.

  As much as I wanted to roll off the log and sink into her, I refrained. My little bunny had never been allowed full control, and she was blooming with all her freedom. And fuck did it feel good to be a part of that transformation.

  Panting and flushed, she broke the kiss and traced the outline of my scar one more time. That ever-crumbling armor I’d once thought unbreakable gained another dent.

  We dented the wall. In two places.

  Depleted of energy, legs tangled in soft sheets and sweaty man, I stared at the destruction behind the bedpost. The dents were small, easily repaired, tiny blemishes that under the care of the right set of hands, the right tools, would soon blend with the rest of the wall, fit right in, like they had never been a nuisance to begin with.

  “What are you thinking about?” A warm hand lay across my stomach, rubbing small circles.

  “I’m wondering how sex can be so destructive, and so beautiful all at the same time.”

  “Like you,” he whispered.

  “What?”

  “Never mind.” The pillow rustled beneath his head.

  I curled against his solid frame, running my fingers over the ridges of muscle, and breathed deep, savoring the aroma of man and sex.

  A low moan vibrated his chest. “I can’t get enough of you. The more you give, the more I want.”

  “I know what you mean.” I traced the path of dark hair leading to his thickening arousal, down to the root, then back up. “Is it normal?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t care.” He shivered, hips bucking when my fingers traveled lower, teasing. “Fuck normal anyway.”

  I laughed. Sounded good to me. “Think we should eat?”

  “Eventually.” He slid a hand down his stomach, then fisted himself, one long, slow stroke, mesmerizing and beautiful for such a simple, sensual act.

  A lawn mower roared to life outside.

  “What time is it?”

  His chest rumbled. “Don’t care.”

  “I should start apartment hunting today before I head to work.”

  “We decided you were staying with me.” Stroke. Stroke.

  Gulp. I licked my dry lips. “Yes. Here. In this apartment. Temporarily. You’re
moving out. I need to find a place too.”

  “I assumed you’d come with me.” All the lust haze disappeared from his voice.

  “Tito.” I pushed up on my elbow. “That’s a big step. I’m young. I need a little independence. Need to learn to stand on my own two feet.”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face, then turned his head away, chest rising and falling in measured bursts. He swallowed. “Yeah. I know. You’re right.” With a grumble, he rolled off the bed, shuffled into a pair of sweats, and headed to the living room.

  My chest caved.

  The front door opened. The lawnmower stopped. Men’s voices.

  I pulled the sheet up to my chin. The lawnmower started up again. The front door slammed.

  Tito stormed back into the room, kicked off his pants, tore the sheet off the bed, and blanketed me with his own naked body.

  The smile that greeted me was magic. Pure. Rare. Spellbinding.

  “There. Settled. This place is yours as soon as I move out. You’ve got an apartment. Fully furnished. Close to work. Cheap rent.”

  “That’s not what I had in mind.”

  Brows pinched, he waited for my argument.

  Deflated, I sunk into the mattress. “You missed the whole point. I wanted to do this on my own.”

  No response. Nothing but sexy hardness and worried eyes.

  Jumbled words danced around my head, not one of them connecting with another. He’d been nothing but patient and forgiving with me the past few weeks, and I couldn’t find it in my heart to give him grief.

  “Thank you,” I offered.

  A thousand years of worry seemed to melt from his body, his muscles relaxing, eyes softening.

  I shifted, inviting him to settle deeper between my thighs. Every inch of my body was sore from our night of sexual indulgence, a pain I welcomed, cherished even. An ache that reminded me I was human, and soft, and desirable.

  Tito tucked his arms under my shoulders and sunk into me, one long, slow glide, lighting me up inside, giving me all his power, virility, and need. He trembled, head dropping to my shoulder. “Fuck, Bunny. Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you feel good.”

  Dear, sweet Lord, he felt good, too. I’d never had unprotected sex, but with Tito inside me, nothing between us, no barriers, I wanted nothing more than to continue, to urge him on, to take, and take and take until he came inside me, completing the act the way it was meant to be. Man and woman, making love, procreating.

  I stiffened, tightening my thighs around his hips. “A condom.” I slapped his butt. “Get a condom.”

  The idea of pregnancy had always sickened me, a black thundercloud looming over my head. Had I stayed in Rockypoint, childbearing would have been a duty forced upon me. I’d never wanted a family, never wanted to bring a child into a world where The Brotherhood had full reign.

  The thought of raising Tito’s children, however, filled me with a sense of hope, of purpose, and that scared me, because what if he didn’t want the same thing?

  “Tito, please,” I mumbled into his mouth. “I’m not on the pill.”

  He offered a reassuring kiss before pulling out, resting his weight on one elbow, and sliding a finger inside me, watching with reverence the way I rolled against his palm. “Would you do it? Get on the pill?”

  Arching against him, I breathed, “Yes.”

  “When I get back, we’ll get tested. I’ve always used condoms, but fuck, I want you with nothing between us.”

  My heart jetted skyward. We. He said, We’ll get tested. As in us. Together. “I want that too.”

  He inserted a second finger, teasing me further, driving me mad. “Will you make us an appointment while I’m gone?”

  “Yeah. I can do that.”

  He paused his stroking, face going pale. “They don’t have to draw blood for those tests, do they?”

  Oh, jeez. Less talking, more rubbing. “Honestly, I don’t know. But I’ll find out.”

  “Thank you.” He reached across the mattress and yanked the nightstand drawer open. His gaze never left mine while he rolled the latex over his hard length.

  I was panting by the time he crawled over me, breathless when he drove inside me, mindless by the time he growled his release and collapsed at my side, sweaty and spent, and holding me tight.

  My shift started in two hours. Tito and Tucker were leaving an hour after that. The thought of spending a week alone, sleeping in his bed, alone, made my stomach roll.

  I wanted him to stay. Needed him to stay.

  If I were selfish enough to ask, there was no doubt he would cancel his trip.

  I didn’t ask. Instead, I summoned my beast and pushed the worry aside.

  Worry aside, I was not looking forward to the week ahead for too many fucked-up reasons. One? No Tuuli. Two? No naked Tuuli. Three? Shacking-up with Tucker instead of my bunny. Four? Not being able to keep an eye on my girl. The list was endless.

  Of course, I would never voice my concerns. Suffering through all the sappy bullshit was pathetic enough, but to expose my belly, so to speak? Not happening. Tuuli thought I was indestructible. I’d let her believe that little fantasy.

  Knowing she was staying in my apartment helped to ease some of the anxiety. Even though I’d arranged for extra security at The Stop, I couldn’t shake that nagging tingle, warning that she wasn’t free and clear of her family.

  Roger had no updates to give on the murder investigation. Although, from Tuuli’s retelling of the event, the assailants had to be members, or past members, of The Brotherhood. Victims of her father, if my suspicions were correct. She couldn’t identify the three men because they’d worn masks. Thank fuck. If she had seen their faces, they never would have let her escape the assault.

  As if sensing my agitation, Tuuli traced small circles across my back, her fingers moving in slow, soothing strokes. I closed my eyes, lulled by her sleepy caresses.

  “Why don’t you have any tattoos?” she whispered, soft and dreamy.

  “Mmm,” I hummed into the pillow. “Why do you ask?”

  “Most people like you have tattoos.”

  That earned her a slap on the ass. “People like me?”

  She rolled onto her back, crossing her arms behind her head. “Big. Scary. Badass.”

  “Badass, huh?” I asked, pushing up on my elbows to get a better view of those perfect breasts.

  “And hot,” she quickly added. “Incredibly hot.”

  I roughed a hand over her smooth stomach, then up to grope a tit. “You’ve called me scary more than once now. Yet, here you are, naked and exposed, at my mercy. You should be terrified.”

  “Never.” She shook her head. “My beast can sense that your beast will never hurt her. That he’ll protect her.”

  “Ah, Bunny.” I rolled on top of her, craving the skin to skin. “Hands down, that is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  “You didn’t answer my question. Why no tattoos?”

  “Never felt the need.”

  “Really?” she asked, brow arched.

  “Really.”

  “That’s it?”

  She wasn’t buying my lie.

  “Yep.” I tweaked her nipple, hoping to derail her current train of thought.

  That sweet little body writhed beneath me. “You’re afraid of needles, aren’t you?”

  Fuck.

  “No. Ink is forever. I’ve never found anything worth putting on my skin forever.” Lie. Lie. Lie.

  She slapped my hand away from her chest. “You’re afraid of needles.”

  Fuck. I couldn’t continue my charade. The girl was too damn cute and too fucking observant.

  “Fine.” I sat back on my heels, trapping her legs between my knees. “I’m afraid of needles. You happy now? Not so badass, am I?”

  Damn, that smile she wore lit the whole room.

  “Why do you think you’re afraid of them?”

  “Not sure. When I was a kid, Mom took me for a check-up. I got a look at the syringes laid out
on the tray, and I bolted. They had to chase me down the corridor. I made it into the elevator before a nurse caught me.”

  Tuuli’s rolling laughter made my humiliation worthwhile.

  “I fell off my bike when I was seven. Tore my knee open.” I tapped the faint scar on my left leg. “My Pops drove me to the emergency room. When they pulled out the needle, I fainted in his arms.”

  She laughed harder. God, she had a beautiful laugh.

  “He never let me live that down.” I hung my head in shame. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this shit.”

  She wiped her tear-soaked lashes and sucked in a sharp breath, releasing it slowly, pulling herself together.

  I kissed a wet cheek and slapped her hip. “Your turn. What are you afraid of?”

  “Thunderstorms,” she said without hesitation.

  I didn’t laugh. I’d experienced her fear firsthand. “Why?”

  “My brother and his friends tied me to a tree once.” Her breath hitched. That flawless, pale skin broke out in goosebumps.

  I knew where the story was headed, but remained silent, stretching next to her and pulling the blankets over us.

  “It started to rain. The boys ran into the house.” Her eyes glazed as if lost in the memory. “I screamed for Jonas, thinking he’d forgotten about me. He didn’t come back. I was freezing and hungry. Erik showed up a long time later with bloody knuckles. He didn’t untie me though. He just sat down, no fear of being struck by lightning. He didn’t laugh or taunt. Just watched. For hours. And every time the thunder boomed, he’d count, screaming numbers until the lightning flashed, then he’d stop and stare. And when the storm was right overhead, when the boom came, and Erik counted to one, and the lightning struck just across the field, he pulled a hunting knife from behind his back, cut me loose, and told me to run before I turned into a piece of crispy fried chicken.”

  “Jesus Christ. How old were you?”

  “Six.”

  Fucking psychopath. Fuck. I wanted to kill Erik Meyer.

  “The really messed up part?” she continued. “He made me thank him, in front of our parents, he made me stand there and thank him for saving me. Jonas showed up with a bloody nose and a split lip and got whipped for tying me to the tree in the first place.”