by Amanda Rose
My mother’s texts are the same as they usually are, far too formal looking and emotionally cold. I roll my eyes, and pull up my emails, seeing hers right at the top. It’s a forwarded email. I read through it silently, trying to process the information I’ve been given. A job offer, a good one at that. Something that would make good use of my degree. How did she manage to swing that?
The answer doesn’t take more than a quick google search to find the answer. The company is owned by Carlton’s brother, Jonathon. My mother’s meddling never ceases to amaze me. But, the offer is good, really good. I try to ignore just how good it is.
“Anything interesting?” Noah asks.
“Just a job offer,” I mutter.
“You have a job, don’t you?” Noah questions.
“Other than writing, no,” I answer, tucking my phone back into my pocket. That’s something I will worry about later.
“Why do you need something other than writing?” Blake asks.
“I don’t, not really. Writing is making enough to cover my outgoings,” I reply. I reach for my hot chocolate and swallow the rest of the mug in one go.
“I’m sensing a but here,” Blake says and I sigh.
“My parents aren’t so approving. I may be doing well enough for me, but nothing is enough for them,” I reply.
“That sucks, but you live your life for you, not them,” Blake replies, as if it’s really just that simple. Nothing in life is ever simple, no matter how much I wish it was.
“I really need some air. I think I’m gonna go for a quick walk, watch the waves. We’re only a few minutes from the coast line, right?” I say, standing up.
“Yes. The whole island is only ever a few minutes away from the coastline,” Blake jokes.
“Are you sure you want to go out there, though? It’s freezing,” Noah adds.
“I have a coat, I’ll be fine.”
“Do you want me to grab your stuff from your car while you’re out?” Blake asks. I think on it for a moment, and then throw my car keys to him.
“It’s not like you can take it anywhere,” I reply jokingly.
“What do you want me to grab?” Blake questions as we walk to the door.
“The small purple suitcase, and the laptop bag. They’re both in the boot,” I answer.
“You got it,” he says, opening the front door as I shrug my coat back on. The freezing air hits me, and I already question my sanity going outside in it. But, I need to be alone with my thoughts for a minute, so I suck it up and step outside, my hair flapping around my head in the violent wind. I grab a hair tie from my pocket and shove my hair up into a rough bun, before pulling up my furry hood.
Without another glance at Blake, I head off and walk in what I think is the direction of the coastline. When no calls of wrong direction come after me, I figure I’m going the right way. With each step I feel the bitter wind smack my face, and the chill settling deeper and deeper into me. I reach the coast line and walk along, looking out at the waves crashing against the shore. I’m surprised the island hasn’t crumbled under the onslaught the waves are providing. I take another step, and find myself slipping on ice. Feeling a striking pain as my head hits something hard on the ground, and my body lands in snow. Blackness clouds my head, and I feel a sense of falling back again as I slip into unconsciousness.
CHAPTER FOUR
The feel of movement and warmth pressed up against me draws me awake. I blink open my frost covered eyes and look at the person holding me tightly against them as they walk.
“Hey there, how’s your head?” he asks softly. My head?
“W-what?” I ask, my teeth chattering.
“I’ll explain in a minute. Let’s get you inside first, you’re bloody freezing,” the man says.
“W-who ar-re,” I chatter out. I feel completely numb. Am I cold? I don’t feel cold anymore.
“My name’s Spencer, you’re Tamara, right?” I nod my head, my body shaking too much to answer. I close my eyes for a moment, feeling exhausted.
“Tamara?” Spencer’s voice calls, I feel myself being shaken awake, but I’m so cold, I just want to curl up and sleep. “Tamara, I need to get you out of your clothes, they’re soaked and you’re freezing,” he explains.
I open my eyes at look at him, but can’t seem to concentrate or focus on him. My head is spinning. I manage to take in his dark-blonde hair and azure coloured-eyes, before giving up and shutting my own. I’m lying on something soft. Sleep seems like such a good idea.
“Tamara, can you let me know this is okay? I think you have hypothermia, I need to warm you up,” he explains. I force my eyes back open, his face is near mine, and his hand is cupping my face. My skin burns where he’s touching it. Hypothermia?
“You can. . .”
“I can?”
“Take them off,” I mumble, just about seeing the sense in what he said. He lets out a long breath.
“Okay then,” he whispers. I shut my eyes, not wanting to look while a complete stranger strips me down. I feel my coat shrugged off first. Followed quickly by my knitted jumper, shirt, leggings and socks. I wonder when he took my shoes off? I’m left lying across a bed, in only in my bra and knickers. Somewhere through the haze of the cold, I feel grateful for the fact I’d actually worn matching underwear today. I feel a blanket wrapped around me, covering my nudity. He slips a hand down the back of the blanket and his hand latches onto the clasp of my bra. I freeze holding completely still.
“It’s soaked through too, but I can leave it on if you want me to,” he says gently.
“You can take it off,” I mumble, leaning against his warm body through my blanket. His body heat providing a much better source of warmth than the fabric wrapped around me.
“Okay,” he says, unclipping it. He slips the straps down my shoulders and then coughs. “Could you maybe peel it off? It’s so soaked it’s clung on,” he asks. I try and move my arms to get it, but my body just isn’t responding properly, my movements clumsy. I’m even more uncoordinated than normal, I never thought that was possible.
“I can’t,” I whisper, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. I feel the warmth of his hand run down my shoulder, and across to my chest. I hold my breath, not daring to even try and move. Slowly my bra is peeled off and dropped to the floor. I let out the breath, opening my eyes. He moves away from where I’m lying, a few moments later he’s back and wrapping another, thicker blanket around me, over the top of the other one. He lays a hand across my face.
“Fuck, you’re still freezing,” he mutters. He slides onto the bed with me, pulling the covers over both of us. “I’m just doing this to keep you warm, okay?” he says, and I nod. He tugs me toward him, stilled bundled into my blanket cocoon and wraps himself around me, trying to give me his body heat through the layers. Where my feet are poking out of my blankets, I press them up against his legs, feeling the burning warmth against my toes. Fuck, he’s so warm. My hands snake out from the blanket cocoon and find his warm torso. I slip my hands under his shirt, pressing them against the burning heat of his toned stomach.
“S-so warm,” I whisper, my teeth still chattering. I feel myself moving, my self-preservation kicking in a lot louder than stupid things like modesty or embarrassment. I slide out from the blanket cocoon and wrap myself around him, the actual covers from the bed still on top of us both. I slide my arms around him under his shirt, and press tightly against him seeking warmth.
“Fuck,” he practically groans, feeling me pressed up against him. I’m sure I’ll feel mortified later, but right now he’s just so fucking warm. The only problem is his pesky shirt, it’s cutting off the warmth between our torsos.
“Please,” I whisper.
“Please what, Tamara?” he murmurs back softly, tucking a strand of wet hair behind my ear.
“Please can you take your clothes off?” I reply quietly.
“Not exactly the circumstances I’d wish for such a beautiful girl to ask me to take my clothes off, but I’ll take i
t,” he says with a chuckle. He pulls back, and I whimper from the loss of heat against me, but he’s quickly back and slipping his warm arms around me. And now he’s minus his shirt, and his jeans are gone too. Thank god. I slide my arms around him too, burying my head against his warm chest. He rubs a comforting hand up and down my back, in a slow soothing motion.
As I start to warm up, I start to feel more and more embarrassed by the fact I’m practically naked snuggling with a complete stranger. I’m also able to feel something else, something hard and pressed against me. Shit. Well, he does have a practically naked woman wrapped around him. At least he was acting like a gentleman about it and not complaining. I decide to ignore it, rather than bring any more awkwardness to the situation.
“You feeling warmer, now?” he asks, his voice sounding husky in my ear.
“Err . . . much better. I can probably get out of your bed now,” I mumble back, releasing my arms from around him. He leans up and hits a light switch that’s by the bed, plunging us into darkness. Convenient.
“Seeing as we’re already in bed, and it’s late, we might as well sleep. That way, I can make sure you keep warm,” he suggests. And, damn if it doesn’t sound reasonable. I’m exhausted. I doubt I’d make the walk to wherever the guest room is.
“I don’t have any clothes on,” I mumble, some sense reminding me in my brain that being naked in bed with a beautiful stranger probably isn’t the best idea.
“It’s a bit late to be shy,” he says, chuckling. I feel his body vibrate with the laugh against me. “I promise to be the perfect gentlemen,” he adds. I mull it over, considering the fact I am already naked and wrapped around him. He has done nothing but try to keep me warm. He hadn’t touched me anywhere I hadn’t asked him to, or made clear was okay.
“Fine, but hands to yourself unless they keeping me warm,” I mumble, snuggling back down against him.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispers back in my ear, sliding his other arm back around me. My eyes close again, and I drift off to the sound of his deep breathing.
CHAPTER FIVE
I wake up to the feel of a warm hot body pressed up against me. I snuggle closer against the warmth, enfolding myself into the heat of their embrace. The fact that I'm single and live alone dawns on me, just about the same time that I realise whoever is pressed against me is a man. A man that has a raging hard on, brushing up against my thigh. And, my leg is wrapped around him . . . and neither of us are wearing clothes. Shit. Did I get drunk last night? I try and get a hold of my thoughts and process what's happening.
I'm on Stronsay Island. I'm staying at the hote—no wait, I'm staying with three guys. My head is pounding, a dull ache radiating from the back left of my skull. What were their names? I try and focus, but I'm still a little blurry from sleep. I really need a coffee. I’m staying with Blake, Noah, and the guy I'm in bed with—Spencer. He shifts in his sleep and rolls slightly on top of me. His body weight pinning me beneath him. I can feel him pressed right against me, and I can't ignore how good it feels. It's been too long, I haven't slept with anyone since my ex-boyfriend and that was months ago. Before I can think of what to do next, he’s rolled onto his back and pulled me with him, so I’m lying straddling across him. His arms still tightly locked around me.
I slowly try to move away from him, but the movement of my hips as I’m trying to slide off him has a completely different effect than intended. I stifle a moan at the feeling of his cock brushing up against my core. Fuck, that felt good. My eyes close, I rock my hips slightly again and then freeze. Shit, I shouldn’t be—Hands grip onto my hips tightly, pulling me down against him and grinding me right up against his hardness. This time I can’t stop the soft moan that slips out my mouth.
“Good morning, Tamara,” he whispers. I feel heat flame into my cheeks. I totally just got caught literally rubbing myself up against him. What the hell am I meant to say now? He grinds up against me again, his hands sliding down to cup my ass and squeeze it tightly.
“Fuck, what are you doing?” I gasp.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks softly, pushing himself up against me again. I look down at him, his face framed in the soft light slipping in through the curtains. He’s utterly beautiful. Dark-blond hair that’s just long enough to curl slightly at the ends, bright-blue eyes, and smooth, sun-kissed skin. He’d been somewhere other than Stronsay recently, with a light tan that could only be natural. “Tamara?” he asks, drawing me from my perusal. His hands slide off me, leaving my skin cold where he previously made it scorch. Did I want him to stop?
Instead of answering with words, I run my hands down his bare chest, feeling the muscles tense under my touch. I run my hands right down to his hipbones.
“Weren’t you still wearing boxers when you went to sleep?” I ask. He flips me onto my back and leans down over me, placing a hand either side of my head, trapping me underneath him. The amusement is clear on his face.
“You tugged them off me in your sleep, Tamara,” he answers smugly. Note to self—Sleep Tamara is apparently a total slut and should not be trusted to sleep in a bed with a sexy guy. Not that awake Tamara was doing much better. Most definitely an issue to address . . . later. I slink my arms around his neck and pull his face down to mine.
“Sleeping Tamara had the right idea,” I whisper, and then crash my lips against his. He makes a slightly surprised noise, but eagerly returns the kiss, slinking a hand into my hair and twisting it in his grip. His other hand moves down my body, scorching me everywhere it touches.
I melt eagerly into the kiss, pressing back into all his touches. Wanting his hands everywhere all at once, and it seems like he wants them everywhere too, never staying in one place for too long. The tease of his hands moving across my body is almost torture. Finally, a hand stays in one place, slipping between my legs and making slow, circular motions. Moaning into his mouth, I slide my own hand lower, wrapping it around his hardness, slowly working it as he works me right up. He moves down slightly, pressing kisses down my jaw and neck. Slowly he reaches over to the drawer next to the bed and pulls out a couple condoms.
“Are you sure awake Tamara wants to do this?” he asks teasingly. I snatch the packet from him and push him back down onto the bed, straddling him. He raises an eyebrow in question, and I smile seductively as I tear open the wrapper and slide it out.
“Awake Tamara knows exactly what she wants.”
His breath hitches as I place the condom between my lips, before leaning down and rolling it onto him using my mouth. His hands slide into my hair, gripping it tightly as I slowly and deliberately work my mouth back up his length, grazing lightly with my teeth. I pull back up and meet his lips with mine, kissing him as he slowly pushes into me. I feel every inch of him slowly sliding in, I moan right into his mouth as he starts to slowly build up momentum, pushing in and out. I match his movements, our bodies crashing together in ecstasy.
His hands slide over my ass, pulling me down harder against him with each thrust he makes into me. Just as I feel the first wave of my orgasm hit me, I hear something across the room. I look up for the source of the noise and my eyes meet Blake’s, who’s leaning up against the doorframe watching me intently. His eyes are blazing with heat. I cry out from pleasure, unable to keep it in. The fact Blake is just standing there, watching me, only makes it feel more intense. I feel Spencer shudder with pleasure as he comes to his own release beneath me. I lean down and press my lips against his, biting down on his bottom lip as the pleasure rolls through me. But I keep my eyes on the door, on Blake. He nods slightly at me, a sly smile painted across his face as he slips from the room without a word. I collapse down on top of Spencer and let out a deep breath.
“Fuck.”
“Again already?” Spencer teases, running a hand up and down my back gently as he slides out of me.
“Maybe after breakfast, coffee, and a shower,” I mumble back, snuggling against his chest, feeling my eyes drift closed again, sleep drawing me in.
>
CHAPTER SIX
The hot water cascading down my body does little to remove me from my sleepy post sex haze. I finish rinsing out the shampoo from my dark-blonde hair, and then step out from the shower. Snagging a large, blue towel and wrapping it around myself, I look around for a smaller towel to use for my hair, but finding none. Guess I’ll have to ask for one.
I step out into the guest bedroom that the bathroom is linked to, after towelling myself off, I let the towel drop to the floor rather than adjusting it every five seconds to keep it on. With water dripping from my still-wet hair down my back, I start to dig through my little purple suitcase. I freeze when a cough comes from the doorway, quickly turning around and trying to cover myself with my hands. I look up at Noah standing in the doorway, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand, and what appears to be a plate with a full English breakfast in the other.
“I brought breakfast,” he says, his eyes flicking between me and everywhere else. It’s as if he both wants to look, and wants to look anywhere but me.
“I can see that, but I’m a little naked right now,” I reply, wishing there was a dignified way I could grab for my towel without flashing him everything. He must have gotten a pretty good view from behind just then anyway.
“I can see that,” he replies, mimicking my words. He pointedly looks me up and down. Well, at least he’s decided where to look.
“Maybe you could just leave it on the dresser there,” I go to point at the dresser, and then quickly realise that’s not such a great idea, considering that arm was meant to be covering my chest. Hastily slapping my arm back across myself, I feel my face practically sting from the heat in it.
“Yeah, I could,” he says, but then just stands there, staring not so subtly at my chest. Maybe he’s hoping I’ll point again.
“Now, maybe?” I suggest.
