by Carian Cole
“No, thank you. Is this why you wanted me to stay here? Did you think I was going to sleep with you?”
“Who said I wanted you to stay here?”
Well, damn. I guess he never really did come right out and say that directly. It’s just what I assumed. Maybe he was just trying to be polite by offering but really wanted me to just leave. Shit. I’m an idiot.
I bite my lip, feeling stupid for thinking he wanted me here, and confused as to why I care enough that it upsets me.
He reaches over and takes a piece of my hair between his fingers, twirling it. “I did want you to stay, Evie.”
Whew. “Is this, like, your love nest? Where you bring women for your non-committal relationships?”
He’s still twirling my hair, winding it around his finger and tugging it slightly. A shiver creeps over my skull and shoots down my spine. “I’ve never brought a woman here, actually. This is my private space. It’s sacred to me, to have space that’s untouched by the outside world.”
“Then why did you want me here invading it?”
He tugs my hair slightly again and meets my eyes. “I don’t really know. But I wanted to find out.” His voice is raw and honest, no hint of humor or teasing. No smirky grin. Just those deep pools of green watching me, reading me.
I feel like I’m breathing heavier than normal, and I hope he can’t see it as I attempt to level myself. The effect he has on me is so uncomfortable.
I swallow and continue to pet Niko between us. “You’ve mentioned hiding and wanting privacy a few times. What does that mean?”
His eyes shift to the left, and his jaw clenches as he struggles with what to say. Or not say.
“Do you not want me to know?” I ask him.
He shakes his head slowly, his fingers still playing with my hair and gently brushes across my cheek. “No,” he replies. “I don’t. But let’s just say sometimes, I just want to be me, and the only way I can do that is to be alone.”
I reach up and grab his hand, gently pulling it away from my hair. “Have you been ‘you’ while we’ve been stuck together?”
“Mostly.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“It’s enlightening.”
Enlightening? What does that mean?
He stands up and pulls me up with him. “Come on, I want to go in the hot tub. I shoveled the deck while you were in the shower.” He tugs me across the room by my hand. I tug back in protest.
“Wait, what?” Hot tub? No.
He continues to pull me across the room to the sliding glass doors, which lead to a wooden deck off the back of the house. He flips a switch and tiny, glowing blue lights outline the edge of the deck. The cover is already off the hot tub situated in the corner, steam rising from the bubbling water.
“Storm, it’s freezing out here . . .”
“I know, but it’s awesome hot in there. I got it ready earlier while you were in the shower. I love being in the hot tub in the middle of winter when it’s cold and dark out.”
He’s out of his mind if he thinks I’m going to get into a hot tub with him in the dark while we’re out in the woods surrounded by snow.
He lets go of my hand and pulls his sweats down until he’s standing there in just his boxer shorts. I look away, but not before noticing his legs are also extremely muscular and covered in tattoos.
He climbs into the tub and slowly sinks into the water. “Whooo!” he yells. “This feels fucking awesome. Get your ass in here, Evelyn.”
“I don’t even have a bathing suit,” I say stupidly. A part of me does want to go in, though, because the heat would feel amazing right now.
“Just come in with your bra and panties then. I won’t touch you. I won’t even look while you get in. See?” He turns around and faces the other direction.
When would I have a chance again to be in a hot tub in the middle of the woods under a black sky littered with stars? Probably never. This kind of thing doesn’t happen to me.
Damn it to Hell. I pull off the hoodie and slip out of the sweatpants. “Don’t you dare turn around,” I warn as I climb into the tub of unexpectedly hot water. “Holy shit,” I say, sucking in a breath and slowly sinking into the churning water. I feel like I’m going to cook in here.
“Can I turn around now?”
“I guess. But stay over there.”
He has a big grin on his face when he turns around. “It feels great, doesn’t it?”
I keep my body as low as possible under the water so he can’t see me. “It does feel good. I shouldn’t be in here, though.”
“Why? I won’t let you drown.”
“I just feel like I shouldn’t be doing things like this with you.”
He flicks some water into my face. “Stop thinking everything you do is wrong, Evelyn. Fuck. No wonder you have panic attacks. You’re so hard on yourself. Just let yourself have fun and stop thinking it’s wrong.”
“It is wrong, Storm.”
“Evelyn, if you want to do these things, and you enjoy it, maybe that should tell you something, ya know? Maybe this is right and the other parts of your life are wrong.”
“Really? I should just do all sorts of things I want to do, just to have fun, regardless of the consequences or who I hurt?”
“No, I don’t think you should hurt anyone. But if doing things that make you happy hurts someone else, then maybe you shouldn’t be with them. Right? It’s your life. You gotta make yourself happy first.”
“I don’t want to talk about this. I just want to relax in here, okay? Isn’t that why we’re in here? To relax?”
“Yes. And to be warm after freezing our asses off for two days.”
Being outside in the dark, with just the dim glow of the Christmas lights and the stars above, is simply beautiful. Off in the distance, I can see the light of another home, but it’s pretty far. I can see why Storm likes it here. It’s so peaceful. No traffic, no houses on top of each other, no nosey neighbors. I’ve always wanted to live in a place like this, far away from people and surrounded by nature. If I lived on a huge piece of property in the woods, I’d have a few dogs, and some chickens. Maybe even a miniature goat or pony.
Guilt floods me, sitting in a hot tub while Michael is home alone worrying about me. I hope John called him and told him I was okay. I have no idea what he told him or how he explained the situation, but I hope he didn’t spin it like I was spending the night with some random stranger enjoying myself.
Aren’t I, though?
“Evelyn, I can see the little crazy hamster in your head spinning in circles. Stop worrying.”
I splash water into his face. “Stop analyzing me.”
“You’re going to regret that.” His wicked smirk is back. Within seconds, he’s across the tub and right in front of me. “Turn around.” His voice is deep but playful.
“What? Why?”
He puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me around, positioning me right in front of one of the jets. And when I say right in front of one of the jets, I mean it’s jetting right between my legs. Yes. There.
“Storm—” I try to back away, but his chest is against my back, stopping me from moving away.
“Shh . . .” he whispers against my ear. His hands slide down my arms, all the way to my hands, splaying my arms out and pressing my hands against the rim of the tub, holding me there. The pulsing water against my clit is amazing. As much as I want to get away from it, it feels so good I just can’t. My body wants to stay right where it is.
“Shut your mind off and just let go,” he whispers.
I lean back against him, my back flush against his chest, my head on his shoulder. The erotic pulse of the water takes me into a euphoric trance. Once again, I can feel his hard cock pressing against my ass. Only this time, with just the thin, wet material between us, the feeling is amplified. It’s almost flesh on flesh. He doesn’t move or touch me at all as I writhe against the water; he just holds my hands against the edge of the tub so I can’t move a
way.
Being held there by him, trapped by his body, is only arousing me even more. I could turn around right now, wrap my legs around that muscled body of his, and feel him slide into me. Never have I been more turned on or in such a frenzy to have an orgasm. Every part of my body is aching to be touched, to be filled. My entire body begins to tremble and thrash as multiple orgasms quake through me, finally leaving me limp as a ragdoll. He releases my hands and slowly turns me back around.
“Feel better?” he asks, his voice husky and low.
I can barely even open my eyes. The heat of the water coupled with all the orgasms has utterly exhausted me mentally and physically. “Why do you keep doing that to me?” I ask him, my voice soft and far away.
“What? Orgasm assistance?”
My eyes snap open. “Seriously? Did you just say that? I don’t need assistance.”
“I think you do. Tell me if you’ve ever felt like that before.”
I push him away. “Leave me alone, Storm. I don’t need your help to get off.”
Lies, lies, lies. I can’t remember the last time I had an orgasm prior to this weekend. It’s been a while. I fake it with Michael most of the time because I just can’t get there, and he won’t stop until he thinks I have. It’s easier to just fake it and move on. As long as he has one, I’m happy. I don’t need to have an orgasm to be happy and satisfied.
Or at least I didn’t think so. Until Storm made me hump a water jet, and now I’ve been forced to face the kind of ecstasy I’ve been missing.
“We should go inside,” he suggests. “I don’t want you passing out in here.”
I am too jelly-like to argue with him. I let him help me out of the tub, and I sit on a chair while he grabs towels from a wooden cabinet off to the side of the deck. My body feels like mush. I dry off in silence and slowly pull my clothes back on, avoiding eye contact with him. When I’m dressed, I head back inside and leave him outside to close up the tub and turn the lights off.
Glancing at the wall clock, I realize it’s midnight. I just want to go to bed. The sooner I can get to sleep, the sooner tomorrow will be here, and I can get away from Storm forever. He is totally a bad influence, luring me into strange orgasmic situations I never, ever would have done under normal circumstances. I wonder if this is how he spends most of his nights, just getting women off at every tick of the clock.
I don’t say anything to him when he comes into the house and locks the glass door behind him.
“You’re giving me the silent treatment now?” he asks, poking at the fire and adding another log. “Just because of that?”
“You know I don’t want to do those things, Storm. You keep turning my body against me.”
“Maybe you should give your body what it wants.”
No. I am not going there with him. I just want him to be quiet and leave me alone so I can go back to my normal state of being—boring as it may be.
“Come on, I’ll take you to the bedroom and you can get some sleep.”
I silently follow him down the hallway to a huge bedroom with a monstrous four-poster bed, all done in mahogany wood with matching dressers. The walls are painted a deep wine color, and thick, white carpet covers the floor before a small, tiled area leading to a private bathroom.
“Wow. This is beautiful.”
“Thanks. This is my room, but you can sleep in here. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
I know I saw another closed door in the hallway that I’m pretty sure led to another bedroom. “Isn’t there a guest room down the hall? I can sleep there, I don’t mind.”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s not a bedroom. I just store my shit in there, and it’s a mess.”
“Oh. I can’t take your bed, Storm. You’ve been scrunched up in a truck for two days. You deserve to stretch out.”
“It’s fine. The couch is huge. Niko and I sleep there a lot. No worries, okay?” He ruffles my hair. God, I hate that. It goes back to being cute. “There’s a bathroom right there if you need it.”
“Okay. Thanks. I feel bad taking your bed, though.” I’m not just saying that; I truly do feel bad. It feels unfair. “I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.”
He starts to walk toward the door. “Absolutely not.” He turns to face me again. “In the morning, I’ll take you to town so we can figure out what’s up with your car, and you can call Michael and get yourself home.”
“Sounds good.”
With that, he leaves. I don’t know why a room always feels strangely empty after he walks out. I undress, leaving just my panties on, and climb into the huge bed, which must be a king size because it’s bigger than any bed I’ve ever been in. I sink back into the soft pillows and pull the comforter over me. It’s down and just heavenly soft. Being able to stretch out and having the softness of the sheets surround me is incredible. I feel like I’m lying on a cloud.
My eyes are getting heavy as sleep attempts to pull me under, away from the stress of the past few days. I want to let myself slip away from it all, but I can’t. My mind keeps wandering back to Storm . . . in the other room . . . on the couch with his dog. His ability to annoy me is huge, and his so-called orgasm assistance is by far the worst thing I have ever done. I know it’s cheating no matter how he tries to spin it. But there is definitely something else there, hiding under the surface—something pulling us to one another like a magnet.
I crawl out of the bed and find my sweatshirt in the dark, pulling it over my head. I don’t bother putting my pants back on. I quietly tiptoe out into the hallway and down into the living room. He’s sitting there in total silence, his back to the hallway so he doesn’t realize I’m there, just staring out the windows into the black nothingness of the night. I quietly step closer to him.
“Storm?”
His head snaps to look at me. “Evie. What’s wrong?”
I’ve lost my voice. It’s hiding behind my thoughts and feelings. Thoughts and feelings I can’t even begin to explain or understand right now.
“I-I just . . .” I look down, away from his intense stare. What am I doing? “Nothing,” I say softly. “Goodnight.”
I walk back down the dimly lit hallway and find my way back to the bed, snuggling under the covers once again. I wonder why he’s not sleeping and what he’s thinking. Probably plotting my next unwanted orgasm.
I begin to drift off, but I feel a weight on the bed. I open my eyes to see Niko lying at the foot of it, curled up against my feet. I smile; Halo sleeps on the bed with me, too. “Goodnight, Niko,” I whisper. That’s when I notice Storm in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. My heart literally stops. What the heck is he doing?
I don’t say a word as he slowly walks toward the bed. He stops when he gets right next to the side where I’m lying. He’s only inches away, but I can hardly see him in the darkness. I can feel him, though. I can feel the heat radiating off his body like he’s electric. I can hear his steady breathing. I find his hand in the dark and gently pull him into the bed, and he settles next to me quietly. He is massive—all legs, muscle, and hair. I’m trembling all over, and I’m not sure if it’s from fear or the new unknown excitement that he forces onto my body. Rolling onto his side, he pulls me against him, cocooning me against the warmth of his chest.
“I can feel your heart pounding, Evie.” His voice is so low I can barely hear him.
“I can feel yours, too.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I know. I’m scared.”
“You should be.”
Everything inside me freezes.
“You have no idea who I am. Or what I could do to you. I could do things to you that you can’t even fucking imagine, Evie.” He burrows his nose into my hair and takes a deep breath. “I want to make you scream my name.”
Fear and sheer desire rip through my body. Those two feelings should never be mixed up and thrown together into the same space. I want to run. I want to hide under the bed. I want him to kiss me. I want to touch every inch of him. O
h my. I am so messed-up.
“Relax, little one. I’m not going to touch you or hurt you. But I will be the ghost that always haunts you.”
Shit. Damn.
He lets go of me and rolls onto his back, but reaches for my hand and entwines our fingers together. We fall asleep that way, two feet apart, our hands still together.
It’s what we do.
It’s our thing.
CHAPTER SIX
THERE’S SOMETHING TERRIBLY INTIMATE ABOUT WATCHING a person sleep. To watch them when they have no idea you’re doing it. It’s an invasion of the highest form to gaze upon someone when they are unable to hide, or put a wall up, to protect whatever scars or vulnerabilities they might have. I’m doing this now, but like so many other things these past few days, I can’t stop myself. Nor do I want to.
Storm is lying on his back, deep in sleep. Sometime during the night, he pushed the comforter off himself and it’s now only covering him from the waist down. One arm is bent up, curled under the pillow beneath his head. I study his face, marveling at how long and dark his eyelashes are. He has some scruff from not shaving for a few days. His lips are full and slightly parted as he breathes soundly, his long hair fanned out over the pillow. His chest, sides, and stomach, as well as his arms, are covered in a huge collage of mostly black ink with some color splashed in. There are words in calligraphic style—‘don’t fear the pain’, ‘rise above’, ‘all that’s ugly is beautiful’, ‘hate me or fuck me’. What? That last one, seriously?
The artwork itself is beautiful and just a mishmash of things. Castles, wolves, faces, masks, clowns, swords, feathers, random numbers, a rainbow, a motorcycle on a road, bleeding hearts, a raven, peeking eyes. There’s a black arrow low on his hip pointing toward his crotch. I smirk at it because it’s just so him.
His skin is naturally dark and smooth. I spy a long scar on his chest, jagged and almost hidden under the fuzzy hairs and ink. I want to touch it, but I don’t let myself.
Every part of him is defined muscle. He must work out a lot to look like this. This type of bulk does not come from sitting around.