by Carian Cole
He grins and stuffs a cookie in his mouth. “See? I knew you were one of those latte drinkers! I had you pegged right from the start.”
“Okay, so that’s my one addiction. I love white mochas. I have one every single day, and I am completely jonesing for one.”
“I can’t get on the coffee train. I drink juice or water.”
“Do you work out?”
He quirks his eyebrow up at me and gives me that wicked crooked grin. “You’ve been checking me out?”
I roll my eyes. “Dream on. I could feel the muscles through your jacket, and I can see how big your arms and shoulders are just with that sweater you’ve got on.”
“Yes, I work out when I have time. I use my hands a lot for work, and I lift a lot of heavy shit.”
“How many tattoos do you have?”
Again, I get the sexy smirk of a grin. “You have been checking me out.” He takes a sip of water. “It’s okay, baby. I know I’m irresistible.”
“Really? Are you always so into yourself? Trust me, I’m not one of those chicks who’s gonna jump into bed with you for a hot one-nighter.”
“I know. That’s why I like you. And I have a shitload of tattoos, to answer your question. Wanna see?”
“No—” But before I can even get the word out, he’s pulling his sweater off, and yeah, he’s covered in tattoos. His arms are fully sleeved and his chest, sides and back are also covered in artwork. I try to take it all in: crosses, castles, words, faces. I even see one of Niko. And beneath all that, is dark, muscled skin. And I mean big, sculpted arms, broad chest and pecs, and a hard six-pack. The guy is ripped. I have to look away. “Okay, Storm. Put your shirt on. I’ve seen all your tattoos and they’re beautiful.”
“Did you see my muscles, too?” I watch him pull his sweater back on and can’t help but laugh at him. He’s just so strange.
“Yes, I saw your muscles. Happy now?”
“Yes. I work hard to look like this. A little appreciation would be nice.”
“Storm, I have no interest in appreciating your body. Can we please talk about a little more normal things, like when the hell do you think we’re going to get out of here?”
“Hopefully, soon. I brought you something.” He tosses a black sweatshirt at me. “I figured this would be warmer and more comfortable than the blouse you’re wearing.”
“Oh. Well, thank you.” He’s right. The blouse I’m wearing is useless, so a nice, big, cozy sweatshirt would be much more comfortable. “Turn around so I can put it on.”
“Hey, you got to see me shirtless.” He’s lucky that in the short time we’ve known each other, I’ve figured out he is pretty harmless. But obviously a wicked, sarcastic flirt who is used to getting attention. My glare is enough to get him to turn away while I quickly change. The sweatshirt is huge, like three sizes too big, but it’s really soft and will definitely keep me warm. There’s a big emblem across the front of it that looks like a scrolling A and E.
“What’s the logo?” I ask him.
“It’s a rock band. Ashes and Embers.”
“I’ve never heard of them. Are they one of those bands that just scream and you can’t even hear the words? I hate that crap.”
His laughter fills the truck. “Yeah, I guess they do scream. But at least the shirt is nice, right?”
“Yes, it’s very comfy and warm. Thank you.”
I pick up all the wrappers from the food we ate and put them back into the plastic bag, setting it on the floor. I’m really starting to worry about how long we’re going to be stuck in here. Having the food definitely makes me feel better, but seriously, how long can we stay here? Michael must be worried sick by now. I’m sure he must have called the hotel and realized I never showed up, so he must be looking for me. But according to Storm, I wasn’t even near the hotel, so how would he know where to look?
“Evie, I can see your little mind is going over there. Stop it.”
“I’m worried. No one knows where I am.”
“You’re fine. I think the snow should stop tonight, and then tomorrow at some point the plow trucks will come by, and I’ll get us out of here, okay? Just trust me.” He pulls out his cell phone and after pressing a few buttons, music starts to play. “Hey, so no connection, but the music I have saved on it will play. Until the battery dies, anyway.”
Soft acoustic guitar music fills the truck, and I find it calming. Outside, the snow is coming down, but it’s slow now, as if it’s falling in slow motion. The passenger side windows are not covered yet, so the snow must be falling at an angle from the wind. All the trees and their branches are covered in white, so everything appears to be made of crystal. I’ve always loved how trees look the morning after a snowstorm, like a winter wonderland. I love the quiet after a snowstorm, too, as if the world went into a whisper.
“What are you thinking about now?”
“I feel like we’re in a snow globe. When I was little, my mom gave me one. I loved it so much I kept it next to my bed all year round. I just loved to watch the snow fall. The snow is peaceful, don’t you think?”
“I do. That’s why I was coming up here, to spend a few days at my cabin. I wanted to veg and watch movies while it snowed and just enjoy some friggin’ quiet time alone with Niko laying on my damn feet.”
“I’m sorry I ruined your plans, Storm.”
“You didn’t. Anyway, at least you make me laugh, which I haven’t done in a while. You’re all feisty and snarky, but kind of sweet and innocent, too. It’s an interesting mix. Not like most chicks I know.”
“Thanks. I think?” I smile over at him and squirm in the seat. My legs are falling asleep. I can’t even imagine how uncomfortable he must be with his long legs.
“Your legs hurt, too, Evie?”
“Yeah. It’s like constant pins and needles.”
He motions at me with his hand. “Come here.”
“What do you mean?” I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously.
“Lay against my chest like you did yesterday, and then we can both stretch our legs out. More you than me, since you’re like a frickin’ midget, but maybe we can at least be comfortable for a few minutes.”
Oh, no. No. No. No. I can’t snuggle with him all up in this backseat. Especially after seeing him with no shirt on. I’m not sure what it is, but he has some kind of strange, sensual magnetism about him. I can feel it bouncing off him like little Ping-Pong balls.
He hones in on my hesitation.
“Evelyn, come on. Don’t be all uptight and shit. I’m not going to maul you. I just think we need to be a little bit comfortable.”
I know I will regret this, but I move closer to him. He has one leg bent up, resting against the seat, so I lean back against his chest between his legs, stretching out across the bench seat. He extends his other leg across the floor in front of the seat.
“Better?” he asks, all pleased with himself.
“I suppose,” I tease. “At least my legs seem to have circulation again.” I pull the blanket up around us.
We listen to the music coming out of his phone for a while. The snow has completely covered the windshield and door windows, giving the interior of the truck a strange dim glow, which I try to think of as cozy and not suffocating.
“Storm . . . how did you know what to do yesterday? When I had a panic attack?”
He sighs, the movement of his chest pushing my body up. “My little sister used to have these really bad night terrors, and that’s what my parents did to calm her down and get her head focused again. It worked for her, so I thought it was probably similar.”
Hmm. When I was younger, I went through years of therapy and that kind of solution was never mentioned. Instead, I had to sit and tell various shrinks about my feelings while they tried to figure out what kind of abuse must have happened to me to cause the panic attacks. And, of course, they never figured it out. Oh, and I tried pretty much every pill on the market for anxiety, too, which only caused me to either gain weight, go co
mpletely mentally numb, or both. No, thanks.
“How old is your sister now?”
“Uh . . . she’s nineteen.”
“How old are you?”
“Are we playing twenty questions?”
“Yes! I’m bored. Just go with it.”
“How old do you think I am?”
I slap the hand he has resting on my stomach. “You can’t answer a question with a question! You have to wait your turn.”
He grabs my hand and holds onto it. “I’m thirty. Now, how old are you?”
“I’m twenty-six.”
He lets out a whistle. “So, you started dating your boyfriend when you were fourteen?”
“Yup.”
“That’s really frickin’ crazy.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s called commitment.”
His hand is big and warm as he slowly intertwines my fingers with his, the warmth flowing from him into me. I don’t pull away, inviting him to slowly rub his thumb along the top of mine. I feel tingly, and it’s probably wrong for us to be holding hands, but I don’t care right now. The warmth feels too good to let go.
“Is he the only guy you’ve ever been with?”
What? Did he seriously just ask me that?
“That’s a really rude question, Storm.”
“Why? It’s not rude. I’m just curious.”
“It’s very personal.”
“I’m going to take all this to mean the answer is yes, you’ve only fucked him.”
“So what? I’m not a slut. I don’t want to be sleeping with all sorts of men. I’ve never wanted that.”
“Don’t you ever just wonder what it would be like to be with another man? What it would feel like?”
“A dick is a dick. I really don’t have a need for variety. It’s not what I’m into.”
“Variety is good sometimes, that’s all I’m saying.”
“Maybe for you, Storm, but I’m fine.”
“If you say so.”
“I don’t say so, I know so.”
“You don’t have to get all defensive. I’m not judging you, really.”
He shifts beneath me a bit and leans his head against mine. Being so close to him feels both strange and exhilarating. Part of me wants to get as far away from him as possible, but then, a seemingly bigger part of me wants to stay right where I am, enveloped in the warmth of him, and keep the strange tingling that’s running through my body. It’s a welcome distraction right now, instead of the fear that keeps creeping up on me. I slowly glide my fingers up and down his, my small fingers sliding between his large ones, then slowly over the back of his hand.
His face is bent down beside mine, his mouth near my ear. “No one’s ever touched my hand like that before.” His voice is soft and raspy, just slightly above a whisper. I freeze, not moving, barely breathing. Shit. What am I doing?
“Don’t stop. Please.” His grip on my hand tightens a little, not wanting me to pull away, which I am definitely thinking of doing. Our hands begin a dance of silent caressing, our fingers tangling, traveling slowly up and down the length of each other’s—and honestly, I’ve never felt anything so sensual in my life.
I couldn’t stop if I wanted to.
He moves his leg slightly and my body moves with him. That’s when I feel his cock pressing against my ass. A tiny gasp escapes me, and I still completely for a moment, but he gently pushes against me, his head still bent down against mine, brushing his nose lightly against my ear. He feels huge and hard against me, and I can’t stop myself from arching back slightly and rubbing against him. The faint, erotic groan that comes from this massive, muscular stranger behind me ignites something in me I don’t even recognize.
His left hand moves slowly down my side and rests on my hip, gently pulling me against him as he grinds slowly against me. I can’t lie; he feels incredible even through his jeans. I close my eyes and lean back further, my head resting on his right shoulder, the side of his face still buried in my hair. Our right hands are still clasped together, and he slowly guides our hands down between my legs to gently rub against my sex through the thin material of my slacks. Holy damn shit. A surge of a thousand tiny lightning bolts races through my body.
He slowly moves his hand away from mine. “Touch yourself,” he whispers in my ear as he rests his right hand on my other hip, slowly pulling me back against his cock to meet his subtle thrusts against me. I am so turned on I feel delirious and dizzy. Unbuttoning my slacks, I pull the zipper down and slide my hand under my black panties. I rub my clit in slow circles while arching my back against him, pressing his hard cock further against my ass. My mind goes blank as we grind against each other, my finger lost in the wet folds of my sex. His lips touch my ear, brushing a kiss on the outer shell, his breath becoming more ragged. I have never touched myself in front of someone before, but knowing he’s watching actually turns me on rather than humiliates me.
“Come for me, Evie.”
His words send me over the edge, and within seconds, my entire body is shaking and quivering as I explode into orgasm. My free hand digs into his taut, muscular leg as I arch back further against him, wanting to feel more of him. He moves his hand back over mine and cups both of our hands over my wet mound as he grinds harder, his cock wedged between my ass cheeks. I push my body slowly up and down his just a tiny bit, feeling the length of him. He finally shudders beneath me, his hands gripping me tighter, his breath hot and heavy against my ear.
We sit in silence in the dark, panting against each other. I have no idea what the hell just happened; I feel like I am slowly coming out of a trance. I try to sit up, but he pulls me back against him, his arm possessively across my chest.
“No.” His voice is still raspy and it’s sexy as hell. “Don’t move yet. Stay with me like this.”
As I come down from my orgasmic stupor, I am utterly ashamed of myself. How could I have done such a thing? It all happened so fast. Shit. I just dry-humped a random stranger’s dick with my ass. I really need to get out of this truck fast, away from this guy before he completely undoes me. I have never touched another man. There has only been Michael, in every way.
I feel completely sick to my stomach. Pushing his arm off me, I sit up, disentangling myself from him as if he’s an octopus on fire, and move across the seat. My fingers fumble as I button up my pants, and I avoid his intense gaze, which I feel burning into me.
“Well, that was one way to keep you quiet and non-sarcastic,” he finally says with a small laugh.
“You’re a dick.”
“Ah, there’s my girl. I knew you’d come back.”
“This isn’t funny, Storm. I just cheated on my boyfriend.”
“I would not call that cheating. At all.”
I look at him like he’s nuts. “What? Are you crazy? Of course it was.”
“I didn’t touch your tits or your pussy. We didn’t even fucking kiss.”
“Oh, so those are the body parts that constitute cheating? What about mental cheating?”
“Mental cheating?” he repeats. “Okay . . . I wasn’t even thinking about you while we did that. I was thinking about pizza.”
“Pizza?” I repeat, annoyed.
“Hey, I’m trying to make you feel better here. If you were thinking about fucking me while we did that and I was thinking about pizza, then it’s not cheating. It takes two to cheat. See? Problem solved. No cheating happened.”
“We’re not talking about this anymore, Storm. Just leave me alone, please.”
He pulls out his cigarettes. There is a big wet spot on the front of his jeans that I try really hard not to look at. “We’re stuck in, like, a six-foot box, Evie. I’m pretty sure I can’t leave you alone, babe. But I am gonna take the dog out, grab a smoke and try to regroup a little. I’ll bring some more food in, too.”
Relief comes as soon as he’s out of the truck. His presence is so overpowering to me. It’s as if he seeps into my mind and skin. He both creeps me out and fascinates me, like a
strange human train wreck I want to get away from, but also want to peek at, take a taste of. It’s unnerving.
CHAPTER THREE
I’VE NEVER BEEN AFRAID OF SILENCE or felt uncomfortable in the quiet. I’ve never been the type who needs to speak or ramble incessantly just to fill the dead air. I’m okay with my own company. It’s so quiet now, both inside the truck and outside. There is literally no sound. No cars driving by, no airplanes flying overhead, no phones ringing, no birds chirping in the woods. I close my eyes for a moment and just listen to the nothingness. Sometimes, like now, I can control my panic and steer it away, turn it into a feeling of fascination rather than fear. The intense silence has the potential to be petrifying and set me off, but at the same time, the quiet feels incredibly beautiful and peaceful. How often does a person really get to experience total silence?
Niko is curled up on the front seat, deep in a doggy nap. I’ve gotten used to him in the short time we’ve been trapped together. He’s a beautiful dog, all gray, tan and white with a black mask around his blue eyes. I’m no dog expert, but I think he’s part husky or malamute or something like that.
My gaze wanders over to his master. Sasquatch is also napping, inked arms crossed over his broad chest. The blanket is stretched out between us, covering us both. Even though he’s about two feet away, I can still feel his body heat wrapped around me. His dark hair is falling over his forehead, covering one of his eyes. I fight the urge to reach across the truck to gently brush it away from his face and feel the silkiness of it between my fingers. It’s sinful how beautiful and shiny his hair is. What a waste to have that on a man! I wonder what kind of conditioner he uses. Probably some kind of hot oil, which smells like coconut.
One of his eyes pops open and stares right at me. “What are you looking at?”
“How did you know I was looking at you?” How embarrassing to be caught staring at a person while they’re sleeping.
“I could feel it.”
“I was looking at your hair, if you must know.”