by S. E. Hall
"I know." His arms wrap around my back and I allow myself a few seconds to cling to his embrace, careful of his shoulder. Makes me feel like shit that I didn't notice his injury sooner, though, so worried about granola bars and rats. "Ignore me. It's hypothermia hormones or something." I lean away with a forced laugh. "I can fix your shoulder."
I don't tell him how I know exactly what to do, my mother asking the same of me more times than I can count after boyfriend number whatever used her as a punching bag. Gulping down the nauseating memories and shame, I guide him with a gentle touch. "Turn around and back up to me."
He spins, bare back an inch from my face. Without thought, my finger finds his skin, tracing the beautiful cross depicted there. It's compellingly bold, a gorgeous black outline with gray shadowing, the four points sharp and meticulous. "Why do you have this?" I whisper.
"My dad. He drove long haul. Died. I like to think he's watching out for me and keeping me safe."
"Well he certainly did so today, didn't he?" I lean in, placing a soft kiss on each point. "Thank you, sir."
He sighs, and then with one sinister growl he's facing me again, grabbing my hips and pulling me to him, grinding his hardness against the crotch of my jeans. "You too hurt to let me in? Need to feel you, Firecracker," he moans into the skin of my neck where his lips do splendid things.
"What about your shoulder?" I pant out my best attempt at diversion, loving the feeling of his hair between my fingers even though I shouldn't. If they find us—no, when—when they find us, it'll be the same as it was before…one dousing of the flame between Vaughn and I for whatever reason away from messing up everyone's life.
"Hurry." He turns again and backs up to me. "Do it fast."
I brace one hand in the slope between his shoulder and neck, then with the other, grip his hand. "On three. Don't tense against me. Go limp."
"Not a chance." He laughs. "Always hard for you. Can't—fuck!" he howls, breathing in rapid spurts through the pain.
"All done," I boast, having capitalized on him being distracted with talk of his dick. It is distracting. "Now let's check out the rest of this place." I hop down from the table before he can stop me, my ankle a forgotten casualty until a spike of excruciating pain zings up my leg. I swallow my scream, clenching my hands tight, and take off limping around the tiny place.
"Paige? Where you going? You shouldn't be on that ankle, and I thought we—"
"Really need to pee," I cut him off, talking back over my shoulder. "You called this a hunter's cabin, right? Well, hunters piss, so where do you suppose they do that exactly?"
"Hey, turn around and look at me, please." His voice is calm, but not vacant of disappointment and knowing. "Paige?"
That's the ironic catch to all this—the only person who sees through my smokescreen and is man enough to fight me tooth and nail on it is the one I have to try and bullshit the hardest. Dammit.
"What?" I forfeit and turn to him.
"Come sit down. Put your foot up. I'll check things out and get a plan going for a bathroom and heat. All right?"
"K." I nod and hobble toward him. "Vaughn, I—"
"No, you don't. Just…" He sighs, but helps me get situated, ankle feeling better the instant it's elevated on a chair. "Stay put and let me figure shit out while there's still a little light out."
"You got a fire started?" he asks in blatant disbelief when he comes back inside, shivering and shaking off the snow.
"No, Santa slid down the chimney and after I explained what a really good girl I've been, I told him all I wanted for Christmas was a fire. Viola!"
"Glad to see you're feeling more like yourself." He winks and sets down the two buckets he's holding. "I'm impressed. What'd you use to start it?"
The tip of his nose is bright pink, and I can tell he's trying to disguise the chattering of his teeth.
"Come warm up in front of my award winning fire and I'll tell ya."
He takes his boots, probably soaked through, off at the door. The jacket joins them, leaving him bare under his hoodie, his shirt soaked and laid out from earlier, before hurrying across the room to sit down beside me. He holds his red hands up to the flames and leans in. "Damn, this feels good." If he sits any closer he will, in fact, be on fire.
"You got any feeling left in 'em?" I ask, taking his hands in mine, holding them close to my chest, and rubbing them together for added heat. "They're freezing!"
His eyes glitter, lip quirking up. "I bet they'd feel nice inside your—"
"Not happening." I shove his hands away before he can finish, shaking my head at his laughter.
"Right." He holds his hands back up to the flames, his attention there as well when he adds, "We'll see."
"Vaughn, I don't think it's a good idea—"
"Just tell me about your fire building skills, babe."
I stare at the side of his head, partly relieved he doesn't want to discuss what can't happen between us, but also needing to get it out. That is, until he glances my way and smiles. It's charming and playful…and a complete reminder that we can be friends.
"The wood was stacked in that corner," I point, "and apparently, even hunters must have matches and newspaper in the can. Which doesn't come with running water, by the way."
"I owe you a good ass spanking for not staying off your ankle." His eyes glance at the swelling that's evident through my sock. "I could rip up my shirt or something and wrap it."
"Waste of a shirt. It's fine."
The fight leaves him on a heavy exhale. "Whatever, just promise me to take it easy. We could be stuck here for days."
"Yes, sir!" I mock salute, earning the grin I was hoping for.
"Smartass," he grumbles through his chuckle.
"So what's with the buckets? Cause there's no way that's where I'm peeing!"
"This isn't the Four Seasons, so you'll take what we got. Luckily, though, I have a plan. I found the buckets on the porch and filled 'em with snow. We'll melt one and pour it in the tank for flushing, the other for drinking when our bottles run out. Or," he waggles his brows, "we can heat it up to bathe each other."
"Down, boy. As soon as the blizzard breaks, we'll be outta here. I can do a day or two of grime." I shoot him a pointed look. "And why exactly can't we bathe ourselves if we're trapped here longer, huh?"
"Can you scrub while holding and pouring a bucket over your head?"
"No," I admit defeat on a grumble.
He laughs, fully unzipping his hoodie. Why, I have no idea. Looking to sharing body heat maybe? I mean, if I'm absolutely forced to get naked and snuggle with the man in the interest of survival, there are worse ways to spend time.
"Didn't think so." He wraps his good arm around me and hauls me closer. "You're not the only one who had a lil' chat with Santa."
Christmas passed almost a month ago, but it's still funny. When I said it.
Chapter 3
"What do we do now?" Stiffness is settling in my banged-up body, I'm hungry, and the ambiance of a bare-chested Vaughn holding me in front of a crackling fire is fast becoming intoxicating.
"You check if there were any beds?" he asks, his breath whispering over the side of my neck.
"Yeah. There's not."
I can't turn my head to look at him, so I sit unmoving as his finger trails over my shoulder and moves my hair aside.
"Any blankets in the closets?"
I need space, fast, and shove him away. "Psshh," I scoff. "I started a fire, don't push it. If I was a giant, hungry rat, the first place I'd hide would be a closet. Ergo, I did not explore those."
"All right," he stands up, soaking in a second more of heat, "I'll see what I can find. You good here?"
"Dandy." I smile up at him with condescending sweetness.
It doesn't take him long to return from his search down the short hall, carrying a lone sleeping bag. I'm half tempted to steal it for myself, but like the strangely generous person I'm somehow b
ecoming, I only shake my head and ignore his suggestive chuckle.
"Feel free to snuggle," he taunts, unrolling our makeshift flannel bed onto the floor a little too close to the fire for my taste.
"Do I have another option behind one of those doors back there?" I stand, hands perched on my hips. "You know, one that doesn't involve me freezing overnight or sleeping with you?"
He places his finger to his chin and looks skyward in mock thoughtfulness, then very slowly moves his gaze back to mine, that damn grin creeping over his gorgeous mouth. "Nope. Now get your stubborn ass in there."
Unable to admit defeat without being a bitch, I bend and tug the bag further away from the flames. "We already escaped death once today," I remind him. "Let's not tempt fate with the option of a fiery death."
With only a small smile, he climbs inside the sleeping bag and murmurs, "One day."
Removing my socks, something I refuse to sleep in no matter how cold it gets, I take the bait. "One day what? You'll get us out of here and go find some new skank to get you off?" I mock.
His smile grows wider and cockier as he scooches over for me to join him. "Jealousy looks good on you," he drawls. "Real good."
"Goodnight, Vaughn," I grumble, ignoring the flare of arousal in my gut as I brush along his hard frame. I turn away from him, attempting and failing at not smashing our bodies together, since his groin is now firmly pressed against my ass. "Keep your hands and other parts to yourself or they'll be missing by morning," I hiss, closing my eyes tight and begging my pussy to calm the hell down. After a few painful minutes of silence, I add, "By the way, you have to care about someone to be jealous. And no man is worth the trouble."
"One day…" I hear him repeat, voice stern and suddenly distant. "One day you'll see. Night, Firecracker."
The witches of the woods are testing me. It's the only possible explanation for our current arrangement. The morning sun's still not up and somehow we're tangled together, wrapped around each other like strands of DNA.
Can't be in need of body heat, the overabundance of it evidenced by my racing heartbeat and his accelerated deep breathing and unfailing erection poking me in the ribs. My head rests in the nook of his arm, the one curling up to repeatedly stroke my hair. I have no words to spill, no unnecessary niceties or jabs. Maybe it's the camaraderie of isolation or the sinewy bare chest on which I'm half sprawled over weaving a seductive spell, but I'm utterly entranced.
If we were still safe at home, I'd never stray from plan Keep the Peace, but here…like this…
"I know you're awake," he whispers against the top of my head, his mouth resting there.
It catapults my undeniable desire for him to new heights.
"Maybe," I answer in a labored breath.
"We could blame it on boredom," he suggests, as if joking, which we both know he's not.
The resentment of my need surfaces with a bitter sigh. "Vaughn—"
He rolls over me, hissing in pain I know is from his shoulder, but not deterred in the slightest. He traps me under him, bracing himself on his elbows. "Don't waste your bullshit on me. You want it as much as I do."
I shove against his chest. "Don't flatter yourself!"
He doesn't budge, instead lowering himself down, our bodies flush with sinful sensations. "You saying no?" He gazes down at me, his breath mingling with mine, eyes bright and blazing enough to shame the ones in the hearth.
"No," I whisper.
"No, what?" he whispers back.
"I'm not saying no."
"Then I'm just getting started." The delicious weight of him disappears as he unzips the bag, shooting pangs of anticipation flaring in me at the sound. "Shirt off," he demands, sliding up onto his knees, already working my pants open and down my legs.
"It's cold."
"Won't be an issue." He winks.
I'm heating up just from the sexy way he said it, fuck me eyes raking over every inch of my skin, stopping to burn into the spot I need him most. "Vaughn," I plead, panting and searching desperately for a hold on his firm ass.
He zips us back inside our fortress, bringing us closer again. "Love you moaning my name, Paige. You want me here," he glides a finger through my wetness and into me, rubbing my clit with the pad of his thumb, "bare? Tell me yes and I'll give it to you."
I'm on the pill, when I'm not stranded in the woods…and based on the quick reinforcement count I do in my head, we're good to go. "Yes. Fuck me, please."
His grunt is full, deprived male as he slides his hands under my ass and impales me, filling me with one forceful thrust, abrupt and electrifying. His heaving breaths of exertion at my ear, in between suckles and licks on my neck and breasts, intensify with each powerful stroke. In a makeshift cocoon, Vaughn and I become a raging, almost spiritual, union, one that leaves me begging for more no matter how painful a scar it'll leave.
He looms over me, eyes never leaving mine. His rhythm slows, taking his time with long, languid drives into my body, tilting and circling his hips to stretch and brush every single part of me. I bask in his care and thorough attention, but soon grow restless, clinging to my sanity by a thread.
"You're torturing me," I whine, needing more.
"Hmm." He moves his hands to the insides of my thighs, opening me wider for his taking. "You're so hot, and wet, and swollen. It's fucking fantastic. Never had it raw, want it to last. So gorgeous." He trails a finger down between my breasts and back up, tracing a circle around my nipple, continuously rocking in and out of me. "So damn gorgeous, Paige. You like it slow, your body tells me."
"But I need more."
"You can come while I take my time, babe. Go ahead." He flicks my clit, then spreads me apart, running a finger up and down the insides of each lip, his thick, pulsing cock lavishing the same sensual benevolence in my core. "You're gonna give it to me, aren't ya, Firecracker? I know you are, I feel you quivering for my cock. Look at me, Paige."
He pushes both my knees up as far as our confines will allow and falls forward, one hand on each side of my head, not even wincing from the pain in his shoulder this time. He's all virile male, invincibly lost in us.
"Kiss me, babe, and drench my cock." With a potent kiss, he remains slow, but adds debilitating force with each plunge inside, going deeper than I'd have thought possible.
I break from his mouth to scream, thighs quaking as a tingle rushes up my legs to my pussy, detonating into an orgasm greater than any of my dreams. "Ohhhhh my Goddd!" I wail, thrashing my head, ache forgotten. "No more, enough," I beg as I come down, catching my breath.
"Yes, more. Fuck, Paige, I can feel everything this way. Every throb, wet, heat, unbelievable. So fucking good, babe. Come on me one more time. I wanna feel what I do to you all over again. One more, take me with you."
Even if he wasn't long and wide and rubbing every right spot, his hot-ass words in my ear would be enough.
"Your pussy's trembling. Goddamn, you have no—ahhh…idea. Ah, want me—fuck—to pull out? Paige? Babe?"
I sit up enough to reach for and lock onto his ass, holding him tight against me, pulling him impossibly further inside. "Deeper. Come deep in me, Vaughn, I want it." I push my pelvis into him, his thrusts shallow now as he throws his head back and explodes into me with the howl of a madman as my inner muscles demand every last drop from him as my own.
"Never, ever," he huffs, mixed with swipes of his tongue down my neck and tastes of my mouth, "allowed to stop fucking me."
I guess hunting's done at the ass crack of dawn—explaining the lack of curtains and high beam glare waking me up. I chance a peek over at Vaughn, still sleeping like the dead, and with slow, methodical movements unwrap myself from his limbs, careful not to wake him.
The moment I'm on my feet, my ankle's screaming at me to sit the hell down, which I'll gladly do…as soon as I find my panties. You'd think since the room's so small, containing nothing more than a few wooden chairs and miscellaneous crap, that they'd be layi
ng around, but nope, you'd be wrong. Must be in the sleeping bag.
With a wobbly, one-legged hop, I snatch my pants from the floor—at least those haven't disappeared—then make my way to a rickety old chair and plop my ass down. My ankle's swollen and stiff but worse are the hunger pangs that aren't seeming to quiet with my usual dose of "suck-it-up."
My stomach churns, an inhuman growl calling out for nourishment. My head snaps toward Vaughn, expecting to find his eyes awake and on me, but to my complete shock, he's slept right through it.
I'd laugh if not for the manic need to eat forcing me up and toward what passes for a kitchen, and I'm being very generous on the title. I'm hoping like hell that's where I'll find Vaughn's bag with the food waiting. A quick scan tells me, I'm shit out of luck.
Aggravation mixed with gurgling stomach acid removes all traces of pain from my ankle and sets me off in a panicked search around the room, half convinced the sneaky bastard hid the damn thing.
I'd rather resort to cannibalism than open the creepy-looking door I'm currently eyeing, but A. Vaughn's not dead and may put up a fight, and B. if this is the kitchen, it's probably a pantry—as in food pantry. Hunters have to eat too.
I cave to starvation and limp my way over, silently berating myself for acting like a pussy with every step I take. A simple turn of the knob gets me nowhere—locked or jammed—but now I know there's a smorgasbord on the other side and I will not be denied.
I throw my shoulder against the door, jiggling the knob at the same time.
Nothing.
Oh, hell no. I've never been a quitter, which is why my anger spikes alongside the newfound strength in my pursuit for what's behind this door. I'm not sure how many times I slam into it before my entire left side is protesting, but I'm on a mission. That is, until the voice behind me startles me backward.
"What the hell, Paige?" a sleepy Vaughn groans.
I jolt, jumping back from the door and rubbing my shoulder. "Don't sneak up on people!"
He eyes me with a scrunched brow before shifting his focus to the secret door that looks exactly the same as it did before my wrath. "What is it you think is in there that calls for the loudest sunrise B&E in history?"
