by Tarin Lex
“Tell me something cool, Trigger.” He closes his eyes. “Tell me all about you.”
Four
Steele
Elsa wraps the flannel over me as we burn through the rest of our basic introductions. She reminds me she’s here for her sister’s wedding, but her voice is flat.
“You don’t sound too thrilled about that.”
Elsa sighs. “I’m not saying I hate the guy. It’s just…” She looks for words. Politically correct ones, if I were to guess.
I find them for her. “You hate the guy.”
“Well. Yeah.”
I chuckle at that. She won’t make it to the ceremony anyway. I feel pretty bad about that, not that it’s my fault or there’s anything I can do about it.
We talk more about her. Elsa lives in Dallas and although I would’ve guessed nurse, she works as a professional shopper. Whatever that means. All that matters is if she likes it.
“Is it fulfilling?” I ask.
She makes a face like she’s never asked herself if it is or isn’t before. Or maybe no one else has. “It’s not…not fulfilling.”
I’m certain my confused expression mimics hers. “Do you city girls always say things that don’t make sense?”
She giggles playfully and slaps my chest and I grimace. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry, Steele!”
“Ah. It’s all right.” I rub the spot. Not because her hand was just there.
She asks about me. I’m an Army vet with more trauma than I’ll confess to. There are things I remember, and things I don’t, and things that fall somewhere in between.
“Like tying a tourniquet?” Fuck how I love how she teases me.
I smile and say, “Apparently.”
“How long have you been out?”
“Eight years in”—mentally, I count back—“eight years out.”
She tilts her head at me, her eyebrows drawing together. “How old are you, anyway?” She’s still wearing my bomber hat, it’s ten sizes too big for her, and I honestly don’t give a damn that my own head’s getting cold.
“Older than you…” I state the obvious. “Probably not old enough to be your dad.” God I hope not.
“Oh,” she whispers on a too-short breath. “That’s…good.” She shifts away as silence descends for only a minute. Then she muses aloud, as if to someone else, “Who in their right mind would live out here?”
“I’m not sure, Trigger,” I submit, “I’m not in my right mind,” and she tosses me a fierce look.
Seems like the worst time, or as good a time as any, to tell her that I now write horror novels for a living.
“And the occasional murder-mystery short,” I add.
When she finds her voice, Elsa says, “I like whodunnits,” but then she surveys me closer, and her pistachio eyes go even wider. “This does sound like the perfect start to a murder story…” Her eyes go wayward as she gulps.
“Or one of those cheesy romance novels.” I grunt.
“What?” Her saucered gaze snaps back to mine.
I shrug my good shoulder. Thanks to her nurturing, and in spite of the cold or the fact the bullet’s still lodged in there good, the pain is starting to lessen. “It’s too obvious for a decent horror story.” Better reserved for something romantic.
“Well. That’s just great.” Elsa shivers.
“It’s cold,” I offer.
She frowns. “Very good,” echoing me from earlier.
“There’s a blanket back there. Why don’t you go back and snuggle with Rhett. He’s good for that.”
“Now you tell me!”
To the beast’s supreme delight, Elsa bounds back there, beaming, and uncovers the charcoal-gray cotton knit blanket from the floorboard, throws it over the both of them, and cuddles in close. Lucky dog. Rhett groans contentedly. Elsa purrs.
I close my eyes.
“Steele.” Her voice comes soft, like melted butter. “There’s plenty of room…”
I don’t look back. If I look back I’ll change my mind. “I better not.”
“Please,” she says, testing my resolve. I feel my cock twitch in my pants.
“Well.” My self-control goes up in smoke. “If you insist.”
Elsa
I become an Elsa sandwich, with Rhett nuzzled into my left side, and a big, smokin’-hot mountain man leaning up against my right. Or am I leaning on him? He’s still babying his right shoulder, and he’s not wrong, that bullet can’t stay in there forever. Tomorrow, hopefully, we can get him to a hospital.
We?
I shake my head at myself, shoving the implications of that word out of my mind. I’m the one that’s out of my mind, if I’m imagining the two of us as anything remotely resembling a we.
But I don’t want him to go alone, after everything he’s done for me, and it is kinda nice…
Enough!
I can’t help that my panties are warm and damp in spite of the cold. It’s his fault. And my tummy is starting to growl. Dammit—I clung to the weapon but not the cookies? Not the best decision, in hindsight.
I don’t know which one of them to put more of my weight against so I just sort of shrug my shoulders and burrow into my own neck. It’s warmer here—between them and under the throw—but not exactly comfortable. This stupid restrictive dress makes it even less so. I have a cozier change of clothes, but they’re in the rental and there’s just…no way. I’m stuck in this or in nothing at all.
Might be wearing the latter soon…
“Thanks, Trigger,” Steele says, breaking me out of rebellious thoughts.
“It’s your truck.” I can see my breath when I reply. The temperature’s dropping. “Your blanket.”
“Mmm,” he murmurs, sleepily. “Keep talking to me. I like your voice.”
I like his too. I like how he smells. I like it when he calls me Trigger.
“Okay, Steele. What do you wanna talk about?”
“Anything. You. Tell me what you want…most in the world.”
“Honestly?” I test.
“Preferably,” he says.
“Pancakes.” I heave a dramatic sigh. “And hot coffee. Maybe a side of fruit?” He laughs but I’m totally serious. “But mostly pancakes. A thick stack of them, with butter lathered between each one, and warm, fresh maple syrup drizzled all over—”
“Stop it,” he grumbles. “You’re torturing me.”
What’s torture is this godforsaken gown. I can’t get comfortable like this. And with the temperature dropping more, we’d probably be warmer if…
“Steele?”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s take off our clothes.”
Five
Elsa
Steele looks more astonished by that suggestion than he did when I shot his arm. As if he hadn’t thought of it.
As if it’s not a perfectly reasonable proposition.
I tell myself.
“No,” he growls.
“But I’m so uncomfortable in this dress and I’m not getting naked if you’re not and we’d be warmer if we shared, you know, body heat.”
Steele quirks an eyebrow at me. “Body heat?” He narrows his eyes. “Is this your idea of seduction, ma’am?”
I have to lift my chin to meet his eyes that have darkened with a raging desire he can’t try to hide. Fine. I’ll play his game. “If I wanted to seduce you, Sasquatch”—I lower my voice to an innocent purr—“you’d be coming inside me already.”
Now I’ve done it. In one quick movement Steele grips my waist with his good arm and pulls me toward his chest and places me right on his lap, cocooning us in the blanket together. It’s warm and cold, too fast and too, too damn slow. I want his lips on mine. I want his pants off.
“If you want out of this dress”—he grazes his big hands up and down my silhouette—“you’ll let me do the honors.”
Oh. He’s good. My heart speeds, sending warmth to my fingers and toes. And a pulsating need right to the apex of my thighs. I arch back, baring my throat
.
“I’m yours.”
Steele volleys a low curse. His hands, so big and strong, feel as soft as feathers as they glide up from my waist to my neck, slipping underneath the bomber hat and into my hair, sending tingles from my scalp to my neck and all the way down my spine. I’m impressed by his range of motion in his right arm. And a little concerned. And so savagely turned on.
He slides his jacket off my shoulders, then my own coat, then the straps of my dress. I shudder when he traces my neck and collarbones with magical fingers. “I love your touch,” I murmur.
“I love your skin,” he whispers. “And your curves,” he groans. “And all these little dips and grooves”—he circles both hands around my neck and tugs my bared chest to his lips—“and you,” he asserts, and my breath stops in my throat.
Did he just say?
“Are you afraid of me?” He says it like he wants me to be or I should be, maybe both. “You’re trembling like a leaf.”
“Yes.”
“Good.” It’s a guttural sound.
And then I feel him pull away. “What?” I frown. “I was liking that—”
“You taste sweet. Like…chocolate…” He licks his lips.
Oh. My. God!
“Shit.” I look down at my cleavage and sure enough—crumbs. And a dot of chocolate chip. And a larger piece of the cursed cookie. How mortifying!
I cover my face with both hands.
Steele dips his head to lick the morsels into his mouth. He peels my hands away, making me look at him as he smiles. I hear the crunch of the chunkier piece of cookie and that’s it. It’s forever. I’m his.
I meet his smoldering gaze.
He grins, deviously. “Aren’t you a little treat.”
Little, I am not. Maybe only compared to him.
I must be a thousand shades of red as I giggle. “You did not just.”
“Where have I heard that before…” Steele says, savoring every last little piece. What a thief. The look on his face is half imploring, half eager, carnal lust. “Got more sweet surprises for me?”
We’re doing this. I rock my hips against his lap, encouraging him. I lean in to lick a remnant from the bristled corner of his mouth.
I whisper to him softly, “All kinds.”
And when he quakes beneath me I press my lips to his.
Steele
She’s lucky I only have one good arm, or I’d ravage her silly. She’s reduced me to primal need already. I have to have her. Not just tonight.
I scowl when she breaks the kiss. She’s still wearing her dress and I might have overestimated my ability to take it all the way off.
“You’ve bested me, woman.”
She smiles at that. Rhett takes his cue to jump to the front seat. Smart dog.
“Shall I?” Elsa leans back at a pleasant angle, a playful sparkle in her eyes, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth. Suddenly I can’t wait to see the look on that face when she comes for me.
“Please,” I groan, hoarse from the soreness in my shoulder that comes and goes, and the pulsating ache in my cock that hasn’t let up since we got in the truck and Elsa laid her healing hands on me.
She takes her dress off slowly. It’s agonizing, and it’s perfect. I want time to enjoy every inch, from her supple tits to her round, full hips, and lower…where I’d really like to spend some time indulging on her.
The gown slips past her ankles and puddles on the floorboard, garnished with her hot-pink thong.
Have I ever spent so much time simply looking at a woman? She’s like art. She’s sexy as hell, but there’s something more. A profoundness in her beauty.
Maybe it’s the fact I am an idiot falling in love.
Ridiculous…but I admit, I love this woman. This insane, stubborn woman who shot a bullet into me an hour ago. I’ll get her for that.
She leaves the flannel over me, skittering her fingers down the opening in the front. Gooseflesh follows in the wake of her touch. Elsa’s hands rest at my pants zipper, where my cock is rock hard and fervent for release. Her eyes expand.
I proffer a smirk. “You see what you do to me, miss?” I say in a low, shaved voice.
Elsa giggles, toying with the rise of my jeans, from fitted waistband to imprisoning crotch. “May I?” She’s so damn polite when she’s torturing me.
“Trigger.” I place my hand over hers over my cock. “You never have to ask.”
She works to get them all the way off and comes back up slowly, annihilating me as her mouth and then her tits graze against my sensitive shaft. She holds my stare the whole time. I’d love to play, to have her wrap those gorgeous lips around the head, to taste and tease her syrupy core, and all the forbidden games my foul mind jumps to. But another time. Tonight, I just want her.
I hold her hips as she straddles me, and lift my chin to luxuriate in her tits in my face. When I look down I catch only a glimpse of her pretty pink lips before they skim, like warm wet cashmere, over my length. Elsa sighs at the intimate touch. My dick throbs, impatiently. She reaches down and jacks it slowly with one hand, erasing me.
“You’re so…big.”
“Sit down, Trigger. I already told you you bested me.”
Elsa smiles, her eyes wide as she lowers more. She takes my cock and rubs it up and down her opening and against her clit, exploring us, coaxing us both into that crazy place of wanting nothing but sweet release.
I want inside, and I want it now.
“Steele…”
“Yes, baby.”
“I’ve never…actually…”
I watch as she swallows, looking at me like a doe in headlights. Oh, fuck. She better not say—
“I’m a virgin.”
“Christ.” I should kick her off my lap, tell her no and go back up to the front seat and say goodnight. “Elsa.”
“Are you angry?”
“Are you serious?”
“About…me? Yes. Steele, I’ve never done this before.”
I rake her form with a sinful gaze. “How??”
She giggles again, sounding a little nervous, and hopeful. As if I’m going to be the one who corrupts her in the back seat of a diesel truck, in the freezing cold, when we barely know each other.
“I dunno.” She shrugs innocently. “Can we still…you know. I want you, Steele. Now. Please.”
As if there’s a damn thing I’d ever say ‘no’ to, when she asks like that. Pretty sure I’d give her the moon if she asked and I could. Pretty sure there’s a seat in hell being reserved just for me. I’m too old for her, too broken apart. I have no right to her purity.
“If you’re sure.” Wrong answer, mouth.
“Mm,” Elsa moans her reply, situating over me as if it’s our hundredth time together, and not our first. Her first time, ever.
She’s sopping wet as she grants me entrance. Her warm nectar coats the tip and I move my hands to graze the outsides of her thighs as she bucks against me, pressing deeper on our connection. Damn, she’s tight. And daring. And fuckin’ gorgeous. And all mine.
I comfort her through any discomfort with softer kisses and gentle strokes up and down her beautiful legs. There’s a quick flash of resistance in her eyes and her walls that cling to me like a vise. Elsa releases one sharp cry and I let go of her body. I let her go at her own pace. My patience or her sense of control rouses her further, and she grips my nape, massages her hips over mine, coaxing me deeper, harder. Triggering me…
Fuck. I want her to come for her very first time. I want to see her come for me. But she’s doing all the wrong things—vaulting me wickedly close to my own edge, past starry spaces behind my eyes.
“Is this right?” Elsa breathes close to my ear.
Right is really a separate issue. “It feels fuckin’ fantastic, Trigger.”
“Oh!” she whimpers. “Yes, Steele…oohh.”
Virile tremors rock through my body and arrest my balls. She arches back, and I know she’s there. I reach up to hold her face in my left han
d, surveying her creamy cheeks and soft round chin, her heart-shaped mouth that opens in a little ‘o’ when she comes so close to coming for me. I tug her nipples into my mouth. I reach down between us and circle my finger over her decadent little clit. That does it. Suddenly I’m met with a flood of warmth as her snug pussy clenches and drenches around my cock, just as my own finale erupts inside her. As if my right arm isn’t practically falling out of its socket, I press her ass down against me with both hands, holding onto our climax until it peaks and we both tumble, listlessly, all the way back down to earth.
Elsa whirrs in delight, and ease, and something that sounds an awful lot like triumph. She conquered me. She thanks me with a warm kiss that won’t be our last.
Hello, Satan. Is that seat cushioned? How kind of you. I have a feeling I’ll stay here a while…
Six
Elsa
“How’d you sleep?” His low voice tugs me from a fading dream, and I relish the fact we’re still tangled together when I come to. The snow stopped falling and the sun’s coming up.
“Not great,” I confess. It’s still pretty damn cold and the back seat of Steele’s truck isn’t exactly a king-sized bed. Also, his dog snores. “But it wasn’t the worst.” I snuggle into his big arms.
“Good. I better go see about digging us out.” He untangles us and starts getting dressed. It’s painful to watch.
“Let me help.”
Steele nods once, yielding to my aid. It could be a while still before he gets to a hospital. I need to check his makeshift bandage and reset the tourniquet. He handles the unwrapping well enough, but when I rinse out the wound with some water he keeps stored in the truck, he takes a sharp breath then winces hard and pulls away, releasing a loud throaty wail that shudders through my core.
I press a hand to my heart to steady it. “I’m so, so sorry, Steele.”
He takes a fuller breath and a grimace flashes over his face. He wipes his brow. Then he turns to me, composed. Damn he’s good at showing face. “All right,” he says. “Do your worst.”
