by Law, Adriana
He lowered the carton giving her a lopsided grin, then held the carton out to her, before placing it back in the refrigerator. “You want some. Be my guest.”
“Ew, no, not after your mouth has been all over it.” Her glass scratched over the tabletop as she shoved it away. “It’s after one. Did you just get home?’
His grin deepened, “Keeping tabs on me, Filly?”
She studied his smug expression and the way he was dressed. There was also a faint hint of cologne coming from his direction. Hot date, maybe? That would explain the messy hair and sleepy appearance. He’d just come home from a heavy make-out session with some hoe. She stood pouring the rest of my milk down the drain. “No. I hadn’t even missed you until I heard you fumbling through the living room like an idiot.”
Drew leaned a hip against the kitchen cabinet and he remained that way, watching her leave the room. The bathroom door clicked closed behind her. She exhaled a long breath allowing her gaze to travel over the new bath. Robbie had done an amazing job so far. The new toilet was set, and the walls that surrounded it, although they were nothing but studs without the sheetrock, it was a major improvement. New beige tile covered the floor. Megan had selected it herself, and was quite proud. She went over to the new granite counter top, glanced up in the mirror and grimaced at the how horrible she looked. Black mascara darkened the underneath of her eyes from her shower. Her cheeks were red and puffy from too much sun. Crap. She gathered her hair up in an elastic band piling it on top of her head, turned off the light and shuffled down the hall to her bedroom. The mattress squeaked as she sat down on the edge. She folded back the down comforter and eased her feet under it with a sigh of relief. Fatigue washed over her instantly. Her leg slid out across the cotton sheets until it rubbed up against something solid. A hairy, warm leg! Megan scrambled out of the bed, her voice boarding hysterical. “What are doing?”
“Sleeping.” Drew glanced over at her, punched his pillow a couple of times and then settled back on his side facing away from her.
“I can see that, but why are you doing it in my bed?”
He yawned, “Correction… my bed.”
“I thought we’d already established you’d sleep on the couch?”
“Yeah, well, that was before I realized my back can’t take it. Now, either lie down and shut up or go sleep on the couch.”
Megan grabbed hold the covers and yanked. “I’m not sleeping on the couch! Get out of my bed!
The covers slid off to reveal his bare shoulder. Her head tilted. Huh, she didn’t know he had a tattoo on his shoulder. What was that? Something black, a coiled snake? Ridiculous. Was it some warning of his nature? As if he was coiled and ready to strike at any moment. The cover slipped further and she saw the cords of muscles stretched along his side, then a narrow waist. The moonlight from the open blinds caught Drew’s face as he sat up going for the last corner of the cover still crawling over the mattress before it fell to the floor, completely out of reach. He clenched his jaw and shivered wearing nothing more than a pair of navy and green plaid boxers. His fingers curled into the down material as he snatched it back up on the mattress, almost dragging her along with it.
“Stop it, Drew. Let go!”
“No. You let go. I swear, Filly… I’m not playing. It’s late. I’m tired. Don’t touch this damn blanket again.” He said rolling back to his side taking her covers with him.
Her hands went to her waist. “And if I do?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to find out,” his words were muffled in his little cocoon.
She could feel her breaths coming quick. Anger festering. She wanted so bad to hurt him. Just enough to show him she wasn’t going to take his crap. “I can’t sleep on the couch. I’m already starting to feel run down.”
“Then sleep in here. I don’t care as long as you're quiet.”
“In the bed with you?” she laughed.
He glanced back at her with an impatient expression. “I’m not going to touch you if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Megan stood silent for several minutes. Going over her options. It was obvious he wasn’t going to cave on this one. But neither was she. If he got his way now, he would always think he could bully her. With a sigh she crawled under the comforter, wiggled to the very edge of the mattress and tucked the covers in securely around her form. She focused on the ceiling, and not his breathing.
“Can you please, stop rubbing your foot on the sheet?” he mumbled in a groggy voice.
“It’s a habit. If you don’t like it, go sleep on the couch.”
After a few minutes of him not saying anything she glanced over, stared at his back. It really wasn’t that bad. He had his side, and she had hers. There was absolutely no attraction between them. She inhaled deep, and his cologne seductively invaded her sense of smell. Who was she fooling? It sucked. Even when she was a young girl and went away to camp with her friends she’d never been able to go to sleep at night. How was she supposed to sleep with a complete stranger a leg length away?
Day Four
Drew squinted hazy eyes against the bright morning sun forcing its way through the blinds. He groaned and tried to stretch, but found it nearly impossible “what the….” he lifted his head and glanced down. Last night was not a dream. He really was in bed with a girl. An arm was laying limp over his waist, and a cheek was glued to his chest by a puddle of drool.
“Alright, sleep beauty, time to get back on your side of the bed.” He nudged her.
Megan mumbled something incoherent and her hold tightened. His head sank back down into the pillow with a sigh as his father’s demands slammed into him full force. “All you have to do is have sex with her.” It wouldn’t be that hard, that hard to just get it over with and done. She would leave. His life would go back to normal. He shoved a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh, staring up at the ceiling. He imaged how she would struggle at first, but then give in to the scorching heat of the moment turning to wet putty under his hands. He went hard as an iron pike, same as he had been most of the night.
Was he crazy? Why was he even considering it? It wasn’t like him to get involved in his father’s perverse little games. He had moved out to the ranch for the sole purpose of outrunning all the craziness associated with his family name, and now he found himself right smack in the center of all the bullshit.
A leg came across him. Megan squirmed, the swell of her soft breast mashed into his side. Her body pressed up against him. So tempting. Oh good heavens, the woman was tormenting him even in her sleep. As if his hand had a mind of its own it trailed down over warm flesh and dug into her leg forcing it up and over the length of his erection. Without warning, some primitive sound erupted from deep in his throat, and he knew he was in deep shit. He scrambled out from under her landing with a thump on the cold hardwood floor.
What the hell are you doing! You’re turning into him!
Megan peered over the side of the bed with sleepy eyes. “You okay?”
He cleared his throat and blinked attempting to force his gaze away from those eyes intent on making him suffer. “Yeah. How did you sleep?”
She sat up in the bed: hair a tangled mess, and wearing no makeup. He’d never seen a woman look more beautiful in his life. His gaze dropped down lower to the swell of her breast under her shirt and his brows came together as he suddenly became aware she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her nipples peaked under the thin fabric of her T-shirt as she stretched and yawned as if to tease him. “Awful. How about you?”
“I.. uh.. same.”
“Good… maybe you’ll stop being a dick and sleep on the couch from now on.” She slid out of the bed, went over to the closet, and pulled dug out a pair of jeans and shirt. The bedroom door slammed behind her. He heard the pipes whine as the shower came on.
Drew pulled himself up off the floor, sat on the side of the bed with his elbows planted on his knees, face in his hands. He was screwed. Inside he felt anger festering, building: anger
that his father thought so little of him that he’d involve him in something like this. The man had no morals or feelings what-so-ever. Anger that Paul Stratford would bet against him believing his precious stepdaughter would never give in to a lowlife, the lowlife being him. Anger that Megan had come there, slept in his bed stretching and yawning like a content cat parading her braless tits as if she was completely unaware of the sexual tension in the room. Dumbass, that’s because it’s only one-sided. To her….you’re harmless. Her father was smart in betting against you…..the man knew what he was doing. His jaw clenched as he shoved both hands through his hair, focused on the floor. Damn it all to hell! Everyone completely underestimated him.
*******
“I was kind of hoping you’d hang around and help. I could use the company.” Robbie said crushing his lips against hers. His hand gripped the back of her neck holding her tightly in place. “Maybe tonight, we can get together at my place? Watch a movie or something?”
Or something… it wasn’t too awful hard to guess what that something was. He was a guy after all.
Good Lord, his hands and mouth were everywhere as he pinned her to the bathroom wall forcing his heavy weight into her, grinding his erection against her inner thigh. Megan’s eyes flashed, darting around at the small bathroom, becoming smaller by the minute.
“Robbie… I can’t breathe.” She struggled against him, whimpering. He brought his head up and held her gaze until comprehension dawned. Megan resembled a frighten kitten being gummed by a toothless Saint Bernard. Her sweaty palms were stuck to the wall, her body rigid against him. Good grief. She was sorry she’d ever flirted with the guy.
He glanced down at her shirt, which he’d managed in the midst of all the groping to get partially unbuttoned, her ample breast spilling over the black bra she was wearing. “Oh. Guess you’re not really feeling it, huh?”
You’d wanted empty sex, Megan. This is as empty as you get.
“It’s all happening a little too fast.” The perfect brush off came to her, thanks to Drew. Drew? Why was he always finding a way into her thoughts? The guy was like a relentless cockroach sneaking in every forgotten crack. “Besides, Drew said you already have a girlfriend.”
Bracing his muscled arms on either side of her head, Robbie chuckled, his hurt expression smoothing. “Is that why you’ve been so unresponsive? You’re jealous?” He went back in for the kill, sucking the side of her neck, while his eager hands went back to undressing her. He took hold of her wrist, pulled her hand down placing it over the slab of concrete in his jeans.“Feel that? That’s all for you, baby.”
Megan gasped, feeling a chill as her shirt slid off her shoulders draping down over her upper arms. He was so heavy, and persistent as he pressed into her. “Robbie… I...Please….” Her hands went to his thick hair and he moaned as her nails scratched over his scalp.
“bout time you warmed up,” He said against the soft tissue exposed around the top of her bra. Megan wove his hair in and out of her fingers, closed her hand into a fist and yanked.
Robbie yelled hunched over following her hands, which still had a tight grip on his hair. “Damn woman, what’d you do that for?”
“Because you don’t seem to know when to stop.”
Someone cleared their throat by the doorway. Megan glanced up to see Drew leaning against the doorjamb with his arms folded over his chest watching the entire scene. “You okay?” he asked barely able to contain his laughter.
Megan released the hair tangled in her closed fist. “Yes, I’m fine. I’ve got this under control.” She worked feverishly to button the shirt gaping open.
“I can see that. I was talking to Robbie. ”
“The bitch pulled out my hair! He raked a hand through, loose hair clinging to his fingers as evidence.
“Clunk!” Scattered tools hit the open toolbox. Robbie scooped up his cell from the sawbucks shoved it in the pocket of his T-shirt. “I’ll come back later for the rest of my shit. I’d like it if the bitchs not here when I do.” He lifted a huge yellow tool box, his biceps flexing. A glare was thrown in her as Robbie shoved his way past Drew. He paused, and tossed a warning over his shoulder, “Watch out. She’s a fucking psycho.”
Silence.
Megan felt the blood rush to her cheeks. She stared at the new shower she just had to have and the bone colored tile climbing halfway up its wall, left unfinished and jagged. Boxes of unused tiles cluttered a corner of the room, stack upon stack.
“Don’t give me that look,” she said.
“What look is that?”
“As if I overreacted.”
He showed her his palms with a light hearted chuckle. “I think you handled it pretty well, but you do realize you’ve just ran off your only hope of getting this bathroom finished? I was afraid you might be thinking you could sweet-talk him into coming back. He looked pretty pissed to me.”
“Yes Drew, I know the consequences of my actions.” She shook her head as her blue eyes clouded with anger. “Glad to see you find my situation so amusing.”
The corner of his mouth quirked as he struggled hard not to laugh, “I’m sorry… it’s just…the sight of you leading Robbie around by his hair is still fresh in my mind. You’re going to have to give me a second...”
“Take all the time you need.” Megan thrust a hand against his shoulder knocking him off balance. He stumbled backwards a couple of steps providing ample room for her to pass. She leaned in and glared, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. “You are an asshole.”
“Don’t get mad. You have to admit it’s funny?” The walls in the hall shook from the slam of her bedroom door.
Correction, their bedroom.
Oh yes, this was going to be fun, by the time he was done with her she’d think twice about sleeping in his room—what would it cost him? A black eye? Claw marks? Or would he suffer the same fate as dear old Robbie?
******
Black clouds darkened the horizon; the weather man said it was going to be a bad one with possible hail. There was an explosion of light and a distant rumble. “Bam.” the screen door slapped its frame caught by the wind. “Bam. Bam.” Rusty chains creaked. The porch swing swayed back and forth pushed by another cool gust.
Megan wrapped an arm around a porch post, her eyes closed as she inhaled the distinct smell of an approaching summer storm. The smell reminded her of clumps of damp, fresh cut grass clinging to the deck of a lawn mower right after her father had mowed. There was an electrical current popping in the air making the hair on her arms stand on end. Then the sky broke, drops fell hard and sudden beating the ground, the biggest rain drops she’d ever seen. Her eyes fluttered as the heavy drops found their way up under the porch forced in by the wind.
Squinting out across the yard, Megan noticed the hunched figure in a yellow slicker moving towards the barn. “Go find Drew!” Tink yelled.
Behind him, a skittish horse reared, and kicked its front legs in the down pour. The horse neighed furiously and struggled against one end of the rope, on the other end Tink cussed the animal. The creature stood to its full height and snorted.
Powerful.
Determined.
The horse was a slick chestnut color with a mane and tail as dark as night. He was magnificent, so magnificent she was unable to move much less breathe. Old banished feelings came rushing back in. Old feelings she thought she’d buried along with my father.
“FIND DREW!” came again as the horse clamored backwards dragging Tink’s planted boots through the mud. Lightening forked out over the barn. Her body jumped. Thunder shook the ground, sending the horse in to another frightened frenzy; it danced sideways, seconds away from charging forward. Good grief! The old man was going to be trampled! Was he crazy? She thought of his drawn hands, and how difficult it must have been for him to grip the rope.
Megan slipped her bare feet into a pair of rain boots by the front door, Griffin’s or one of the other guys, too large for her delicate feet. She felt
ridiculous in the boots, like a waddling duck with no direction. “Let go!” she screamed sloshing out into the rain.
It felt as if someone had taken a bucket of ice water and tossed a wave of it at her front side. She shuddered from the cold, wet rain, but she didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Something about the whole scene caused an unsettling feeling deep in her stomach. She batted damp eyes against the rain.
Her white button down shirt hung open, wrinkled and heavy at her side. Underneath that shirt she wore a white tank top, both shirts soaked, her black bra showing through. The jean fabric of her shorts was also drenched, weighted down, hanging low on her waist showing her navel. Fingers fisted, “You stubborn old man, it’s not that difficult… just let go!”
Tink’s hold tightened. “Can’t.”
“Why the hell not? You’re going to get yourself killed!” Megan reached for the rope. “If you’re not going to listen, then at least let me help you!”
“You can help by finding Drew. He’ll know how to calm her.”
Her?
Her gaze went to the snorting horse tossing its head: the elegant legs bending and straightening, the white strip between erratic deep brown eyes searching for something… or someone.
“What’s her name?” she yelled over the drum of the rain, not sure why it mattered all of sudden.
Tink gritted his teeth, “No offense beautiful, but this isn’t a good time for chit chat, go tell Drew she’s lost it again!”
“I’m not leaving you,” she insisted.
Lightening lashed across the sky, having the same effect as the crack of a whip on the creature’s tail end. Five seconds, that’s all it took for them both to realize the horse was going for it, to hell with whoever stood in its way. Megan grabbed the rope tight feeling the sting as the horse charged forward jerking Tink and her along with it. They both dug their heels into the wet ground. Rope snapped taunt as the horse reached the end of the slack. Every muscle in her body tensed. Oh no. Oh no. she kept chanting over and over in her mind. Would they be able to hold their ground or would they be pulled face first into the mud?