by Audrey Storm
She blushed, her face going slack. “Oh…okay.” Mortified, she hurried forward and out of his apartment. She was relieved to hear him follow her.
It was so cold that it hurt to breathe, but the peaceful, quiet surroundings soothed an ache in her soul that she never realized she had. She was torn between wanting to go back inside or remaining outside forever. Her gaze wandered over the thin pine trees, the sound of her boots crunching against the snow and pine needles piercing the air. She forced herself to inhale, and it felt as if ice had burst inside her lungs.
“I’m from Seattle,” she told Andrew, who walked beside her. “And I liked it there, but it was never so…it never gets like this, you know?”
“Too noisy?”
“All the time, yeah.” She turned to him, and she was surprised to see him watching her. “What?”
“What do you mean ‘what?’ You were talking, and I was listening.” He huffed, shaking his head. For a second, it looked like he was grimacing, excepting that the corner of his lips was turning upward. “You’re a strange one.”
Warmth bloomed beneath her breastbone. “That sounds like a compliment.”
His cheeks turned a shade redder, and he glanced away. “I guess.”
“You’re being nice to me—in a kind of messed up way, but it’s still sweet.” Grinning, she playfully bumped against him. “You like me.”
He looked back at her and narrowed his gaze. His cheeks were still red. “What makes you say that?”
“You let me spend time with you,” she said, “even though you claim you don’t want me to.”
He pouted out his lips and shrug. “Maybe I’m just trying to be nice.”
She laughed. “You?”
“I can be nice!”
She brought her gloved hand to her mouth, laughter still bursting from it. Amusement coursed through her, and for a second, she couldn’t speak. The cold, her laughter—it was too much for her lungs.
“Fine,” Andrew said, stretching out the word in one long, exasperated breath. “I don’t like being nice.”
“You don’t say,” she managed to pant out, her giggles finally ebbing away. She rubbed the pleasant ache from her chest.
“You…” He licked his lips, his gaze darting over the ground. “You make me want to be nice, sometimes. That’s all.”
She nearly cooed, but luckily, her shock got the better of her. She stopped. “Really?”
A few steps ahead of her, he stopped and turned back to her. “Yeah, but don’t let it go to your head or anything.”
“How can I not? That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”
He groaned, tilting his head back as he rolled his eyes. “Your life must be sad.”
She smirked. Amused, touched, and feeling very daring, she took one slow step toward him and fluttered her eyelids. “It was until I met a handsome fella like you.” She giggled, suddenly feeling giddy and light-headed.
Andrew blushed. His eyes wide and full of uncertainty, he stuttered out some garbled noises.
It was adorable. Her heart warmed at the sight, and she couldn’t keep herself from smiling. She had never met a man like Andrew before, and she had never expected to care about someone as gruff and tactless as he was. But now, standing in the icy air, she wanted nothing more than to feel him all over her.
“That’s sexy,” she said as Andrew continued to stutter out gibberish. She meant the words to sound teasing, but the moment she said them, heat flared inside her lower belly; it sent a pleasant shiver through her flesh.
Andrew must have been affected by her words, too, for he went quiet and his eyes darkened. His mouth still hanging open, he panted out little warm clouds past his reddened lips.
She was staring at his lips when he moved forward, grabbed her face, and kissed her. She gasped, not realizing that they were moving backwards until her back hit a slanted tree. Everything was moving so quickly—his tongue licking at her teeth, his hands trailing over her body, his thigh pressing in between her quivering legs. Her mind struggled to process everything at once, even as her legs spread apart on their own accord. Lust pulsated through her in hot waves, and she whimpered with the overwhelming desire it created within her.
Andrew growled in response. Panting against her neck, he grabbed the waistline of her pants and panties and tugged aggressively until they came sliding down.
The cold zapped through her skin in violent quivers, the threat of numbness—of hypothermia—blaring in her mind. But, God help her, it made her core feel all the hotter and the wetter. She could feel it throb and moisten, aching with the need to be filled.
“Andrew,” she whimpered, arching to him. “Please, please.”
He scraped his teeth over her neck, pressing torso against hers as he tugged down his own pants and underwear. Feeling him move against her—undress against her—made her squirm and moan.
“Hurry, please,” she whined, rubbing against him to create what little friction she could. She had never felt hotter or more desperate in her life. She was on the verge of coming already, and he hadn’t even touched her where she needed him to. “Andrew.”
Melinda gasped when she felt him begin to push his way inside her wet folds. Once he had the tip of his member inside her, he shoved and gyrated the rest of himself deeper and deeper. It sent stabs of pain and pleasure through her entire body, and a wet cry burst from her throat. There was no rhythm to his movement as he pumped himself in and out of her—hitting her at all kinds of angles.
She clawed into his clothed back and moved with him as best as she could. It was a twisting kind of heat, one she wanted more of and one she had had enough of. Tears poured from her eyes, and her cries turned into breathy moans the longer Andrew continued.
“So close,” she gasped out. Her senses were overloaded, yet she wanted more. “Andrew, so close.”
He grunted, then went completely stiff.
Hot seed shot inside of her, and it finally pushed her over the edge. She released a primal scream, her vision going white and her heart stopping for one glorious second.
Melinda went limp against the tree. Barely able to breathe, she shuddered as the aftershocks continued to crash upon her. She would have slid to the ground if Andrew hadn’t been holding her up, his entire form shaking as hard as hers was.
Sated, she smiled wide. “If you were trying to get rid of me, this was a terrible way to do it.”
He huffed against her throat. Then, with a surprising amount of gentleness, he raised his head and kissed her jaw.
Chapter Four
She wasn’t quite sure if what they were doing was dating exactly. They basically lived together, so she saw Andrew every day. And they did things like share dinner, watch TV, fix her sink that one time—it was all so domestic rather than romantic, but she still managed to find herself feeling good around him. Andrew made life better somehow—made her better somehow, and she wanted to revel in it for as long as he would let her.
“You really need to eat some more vegetables,” Melinda told him as she pushed a cart through the town’s only market. Her gaze swept over the items that were already in the cart. “All I see here are fish, beef, and canned berries.” Her face twisting with disgust, she glanced at him. “Berries taste better fresh, you know.”
“They’re expensive,” Andrew said, glaring a little. “And there’s nothing wrong with my diet.”
She led them down the vegetable aisle anyway. And when she threw in a bag of carrots in the cart, he merely grumbled his protest.
“We could make a stew,” Melinda said, smirking at his childish behavior. “A stew is basically a soup that is so meaty, you can’t even taste the vegetables.”
Andrew stopped frowning, a look of consent softening his features. He shrugged, and Melinda knew that that was as much of a “yes” as she was going to get.
“Great,” she said. “I haven’t made stew in a long while, but you don’t seem like the kind of guy who is a picky eater.”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Thought so. Must have made your parents’ lives easier.”
His expression hardened, his gaze snapping away from her. The fact that he was trying to hide his face—his anger and discomfort—sent warning signals to Melinda’s brain. Concerned and confused, she frowned at him.
“You never talk about your parents,” she said cautiously. She had never pushed for information from him before, but now that it was obvious that a small comment about his parents bothered him so much…well, it bothered her. “What were they like? Are they still…?”
“No,” Andrew snapped. “Let’s just drop it now, okay?”
She stopped the cart. Defensive anger and flashed inside her chest, as well as a little bit of fear. “I’ve told you about my family, and I hate them.”
“You don’t hate them,” he said, crossing his arms. “And just because you blab on about your past doesn’t mean I want to.”
“Your past? I was just talking about your mom and dad.”
“They are a part of my past.”
“Why don’t you want to talk about them? Or anything about you?” Eeriness was settling upon her, and she did not like it. She wanted to trust Andrew, but when he acted this way—
“Because I don’t,” he growled, narrowing his gaze. “Drop it now, or leave. I can do my own damn shopping without you nitpicking every little thing I say or don’t say.”
Melinda nearly flinched. There was sincere rage beneath his tone, and she wasn’t sure how to respond to it. A part of her wanted to turn this into a real fight—to find out why he was so secretive with her. But deep down, she knew she wouldn’t get any answers from him unless he truly wanted to share them with.
They continued their shopping in silence—with the exception of the irritated grunts Andrew made every so often. The tension between them clawed into Melinda’s psyche, but shy of screaming at the man, she didn’t know how to calm her own nerves.
Once they returned to his building, she stormed out of his car and headed for her own apartment. There, she was finally free of Andrew’s eyes and rude noises, and she could breathe with ease.
She ended up punching several pillows and screaming into them later on, but that is neither here nor there.
That night, Melinda sat on her couch. Her elbows resting on her knees, she stared at her blank television as her mind struggled with its thoughts.
She didn’t want to break up with Andrew, but how could she be with someone who was so distant? She had made a horrid mistake with Travis, and she didn’t want to make the same one with Andrew.
Melinda clenched her teeth, self-loathing smacking her. Andrew was nothing like Travis.
Sighing, she relaxed and shook herself from her ponderings. She had spent hours dealing with her emotions and thoughts, and she was no more certain about herself and Andrew than she had been in the market. She gave herself permission to give up, and a soothing sensation of sleepiness came over her.
She stood up and headed for her bed when someone knocked on the front door. Frowning knowingly, Melinda went up the stairs and opened the door.
Andrew stood there, embarrassment written all over his face.
“Yes?” Melinda said, cocking an eyebrow.
He cleared his throat and shifted on his feet. “Um…I made dinner?”
“…Is that a question or a statement?”
He gave her a sour, exasperated look. “I’m sorry, okay? Would you please have dinner with me?”
Melinda’s eyebrows shot up. All of the turmoil inside her eased away, affection taking its place. “You’re apologizing?”
He nodded. “I made stew—thought it was a good idea and all.”
She did coo at him then and brought her hands to her pounding heart. “You sweetheart! And here I thought you were just going to act like a brute forever.” She moved forward—briefly noticing the indignant glare he was giving her—and kissed him. She felt him relax against her, and she kissed him a little harder. She wrapped her arms around his neck and felt him wrap his arms around her waist. It was so warm, so nice.
At dinner, Melinda was going to let the incident at the market go. As stubborn as she could be sometimes, she knew when not to push an issue. But, as she was slurping up the remnants of her soup, Andrew surprised her.
“Look,” he said, staring into his empty bowl while he tapped his table. He took a deep breath, his shoulder tensed. “I’m not good at…sharing. At least, not about my family, my childhood—none of that. If that’s a deal breaker for you, tell me now. I don’t want to make things any messier than they have to be.”
So startled, Melinda nearly inhaled some of her stew. She lowered her bowl and wiped up a bit of food off her chin and lower lip. She stared at Andrew for a long moment, observing the nervous way he fiddled with the fibers of the table. His expression seemed deflated—tired and anxious all at once.
She thought about it for a moment. “Are you a murderer?”
Andrew reeled back, worry creasing his brow. “What? No.”
“Are you a rapist?”
“No!”
“Woman-beater?”
“No!”
Melinda pouted out her lips and nodded, satisfied. “Then you know what? I think we can make this work. Whatever this is.”
When he smiled back at her, his eyes flooding with warmth and relief, she realized that it truly was that simple. It only had to be as complicated as they made it, and it seemed that neither one of them wanted to deal with complications.
Smiling back at him, Melinda reached over and grabbed his hand. “You want to have sex?”
“God, yes.”
Chapter Five
Melinda jolted awake, the sound of loud and rapid knocking thrumming through the air. It was pitch black, but she could feel and smell Andrew beside her, and she immediately remembered that she had spent the night with him at his place. Perhaps one of the tenants had some kind of plumbing emergency that needed handling.
Groaning, Melinda lowered her head to her pillow while she groped Andrew’s muscular arms. “What time is it?”
“Don’t care,” Andrew whispered. “Too early.”
She agreed with the sentiment and closed her eyes.
“KANE!”
She and Andrew jumped up into sitting positions, her hand squeezing his arm now. Her other hand was clawing into the comforter in her lap.
The knocking on the door became louder and heavier, like someone was trying to break through the surface. “KANE!”
“That sounds like Travis,” Melinda whispered. She hated how panic iced her veins and made her shake. Even while holding on to Andrew, the fear of Travis still weighed heavily upon her. “What is he even doing here?”
“KANE! Where’s my girl?!”
She stiffened.
Andrew got out of bed, his hand gently grabbing hers when she refused to let him go. “I’ll handle this.”
She was shaking harder now. Her nails clawed into Andrew’s bicep. “Andrew—”
The front door groaned and splintered. “KANE! Where is she?!”
Andrew tore out of her grip and headed for the door. “Travis, get the hell out of here before I call the cops!”
Melinda grabbed the comforter, but it wasn’t nearly as reassuring as the feel of Andrew had been. Her lungs constricting, she stared wide-eyed at the darkness—at the impending threat she could not see.
She heard Andrew walking away from them bed. By the time he got close to the front door, it had burst open.
Melinda screamed, jumping back.
There was a little light in the hallway, and it illuminated the outline of Travis’s heaving form. However, his face and the front of his torso were hidden in black shadows; he looked monstrous.
“Here?” Travis choked out, sounding pained. “She’s here with you?”
Melinda tensed.
Andrew snarled, “Get out!”
Andrew’s body blocked Travis’s from view, but only for a few secon
ds. Then Travis, screaming obscenities, tackled Andrew to the ground.
Melinda scrambled out of bed, her heart racing and her skin burning. She could hear the men fighting and shouting at each other somewhere on the floor, but she could barely see them; she couldn’t even make out which man was which, for they looked like one dark blob convulsing on the ground.
“Stop it!” she cried, forcing herself to move toward them—toward Andrew. “Travis, stop it! I’ll call the cops!”
Melinda had never expected for Travis to lunge for her. More startled than afraid when such a thing occurred, she cried out as their bodies tumbled over the wooden floor.
“I loved you!” he sobbed, alcohol on his breath.
Fear bursting within her anew, she flailed beneath him in a feeble attempt to escape. She kicked and punched him, but he barely moved. Though she was bigger and stronger than most women, Travis was probably too drunk to really be hurt by her assaults.
He brought his hands to her throat, and Melinda managed to get out a quick scream before he cut off her air source.
Andrew, she thought as her chest began to burn. Where was her Andrew?
An ungodly roar erupted inside the room, the walls shaking and the floors quaking in response.
Melinda nearly fainted, her blood tingling while the rest of her went stock-cold.
Travis was thrown off of her and across the room, his body slamming into the wall before collapsing to the ground. He screamed, tripped over himself, and then ran out of the apartment in uneven steps.
Melinda didn’t pay him any more attention. Her widened eyes were glued to the massive thing standing in the apartment. The hallway’s weak light revealed the creature’s fur and snout—its teeth, slobbering dripping from them—but the creature’s eyes seemed to glow all on its own.
Melinda hadn’t ever thought about whether or not it was possible to die from fright alone, but now that her body seemed to be shriveling up and burning beneath the power of her deathly panic, she truly believed that she would die before the monster ever reached her.