by Snow, Nicole
After another long hug, another kiss, I step back, knowing the kids will get bored with their game sooner than later. “I cleaned the fish, but you’ll have to cook them.”
“I know.” He kisses my forehead, resting his lips against mine. “But you’re nuts if you think I was talking about dinner.”
Without another word, he pulls me into the shower. There, underneath the steaming water, he shows me how wonderfully wild his 'ideas' get.
Miller mounts me from behind, pinning my hands to the tiled wall in front of me. He shifts my legs apart, biting my shoulder, marking me for real this time.
He’s lucky I’m good at covering it up after he gets rough. And he’s doubly lucky that, even though I’ll never admit it to his face, I kinda like it.
One thing’s for sure – I definitely don’t hate how hard he takes me under the shower.
Piston hips, roaming hands, fingers palming my breasts and pinching my nipples. The raw, wicked friction of his cock inside me is enough. Especially when we’ve been at it for so long, there’s no need to warm up again.
This is a real fuck just like he said.
I don’t even like that word, but God, do I love this.
His growl, his rhythm, his incredible weight and strength behind me. How he shatters me once, and again, and brings me apart over and over on his incredible cock. I can’t even tell where one climax ends and another begins.
It seems like an eternity before he snarls, before his hands squeeze my breasts, yanking me back into him. We didn’t even remember the condom this time, but thankfully, I’m on the pill and I trust he’s safe because oh, hell.
Miller grinds into me, thrusts up with a growl that could split the world in two, and buries his length to the hilt like he’s trying to knock me up. Then the same unruly seed I sucked out of him pours into my pussy, my womb, his balls unleashing everything.
It’s kind of amazing how hard, how long, how freaking much he comes.
And the wild, manic heat of him erupting inside me brings me off all over again. I barely have time to fumble, cranking up the shower, praying the noise hides the howl ripping out of me.
* * *
Later, when I can actually stand again without my knees giving out, I kiss him one more time and leave the bathroom, get dressed, and pad out to the kitchen. Shane and Lauren are still upstairs bombing each other’s fleets like they’re reenacting Midway.
Outside the window, the weather’s turned from rain to a full-blown storm, complete with thunder and lightning. Thanks to the generator, we don’t need to worry about losing power. Miller filled it this morning for backup, so we should be good again until the day after tomorrow.
Guessing at what he’ll need to fix the fish and sausages, I pull things out of the fridge and set them on the counter.
He comes out of the bedroom, fully dressed in Minnesota flannel that looks so good I want to tear it off him all over again. But the kids finally come running down the steep steps.
“I won. I won!” Lauren squeals. “Best two out of three. Can I have my reward, Gwen? You said chocolate.”
Miller looks at me and grins. I remember the peanut butter cups and flash them a smile.
“Of course. Let’s make it dessert after dinner, okay? Must be a lucky day for us girls.”
Because I won best two out of three, too, I think to myself.
Miller laughs and pats Lauren’s shoulders. “Good job, baby girl. Keep it up and maybe I’ll have a kid who goes to West Point.”
Shane kicks glumly at his other heel. Miller sees him and slaps his shoulder, too.
“Be a good sport, son. Sometimes you learn as much losing as you do by winning.”
“Even in 'war?'” He makes quote signs with his fingers, knowing full well it’s just a game.
“Especially in war. All the way back to George Washington and Alexander the Great, probably. Hell, sometimes I think we only came out on top in Afghanistan and didn’t get another Vietnam because the officers learned a thing or two.”
Shane’s expression eases and he nods. “Well, I guess that makes sense.”
Across the room, Lauren frowns and plants her little hands on her hips. “Daddy, did you two play Scrabble without me? You and Gwen?”
“Nope,” he says.
We know what she’s thinking. He’s trying so hard not to smile I almost burst out laughing myself.
“No one would play Scrabble without you,” Shane says, rolling his eyes. “You’re like the only one who really likes that game. Making words. Sheesh. That’s about as fun as a spelling test.” He looks up at Miller. “What game did you guys play?”
I clear my throat, blushing. “Well, um...”
Miller walks over and picks up the bowl of fish filets. “Oh, ours was more of a contest.”
“Cleaning fish.” Shane nods, taking a good guess. “Gwen’s really good at that. Fast, too. I watched her earlier.”
“She’s good and fast, all right.” Miller winks at me. “And since the girls won, the boys have to cook supper. Come on, Shane.”
The little boy makes a face and scratches his head. “Aw, okay. I guess that’s fair.”
“You guess?” Lauren jabs him. “That’s more than fair, Admiral.”
“Don’t worry, the girls will do the dishes,” I say, returning Miller’s over-the-top, totally not heart-stabby wink. “We want everybody happy here.”
Shane grins. “Now that’s fair!”
“Why don’t you two go work on your stories while Shane helps me cook?” Miller asks.
I love how he does that, encourages some me time with Lauren and my notebook. I’ve told him it isn’t easy to make the words flow sometimes.
In fact, it’s hard freaking work. Sometimes I think the main reason Mother does her research trips is just to clear her head.
But Miller gets it. He listens. How many girls would kill for a man who does that?
He’s read more of my story, too, and even made a few helpful hints on the intrigue whenever I’ve gotten stumped, or a little too freaked to keep going. On the one hand, being up here in a cozy cabin hoping the bad guys don’t come is great inspiration.
But it’s also insanely hard to figure out where the line is between fiction and real life.
All in all, I’m further along on this story than I’ve ever been, and still really like everything about it.
Lauren and I each claim a recliner and delve into writing. We throw happy glances at each other once in a while, whenever a noise or laughter from the kitchen catches our attention.
Like everything he cooks, the fish and sausages turn out perfect. It’s a kind of fish stew with plenty of spices served with piping hot rice on the side. Hot, steamy, and delish on a rainy night.
Lauren and I keep our end of the deal, cleaning up the kitchen afterwards, and then I give both kids a few chilled peanut butter cups to munch on.
The storm has passed by the time we’re winding down, but it’s still drizzling. I pull up the weather app on my phone, which shows another wave of Doppler green blobs heading our way.
“Gotta love a place that reminds me of home,” Miller says, staring at the screen over my shoulder. He reaches down and takes my fingers in his, squeezing wonderfully.
We pass the evening playing games, including a round of Scrabble, until Miller announces it’s time for bed around nine.
The kids both give us hugs goodnight.
“You know, this is kinda like home, but better. I like this place, Dad,” Shane says, pausing on the stairs leading up to the loft. “Even though it doesn’t have TV, it’s fun.”
“I like it, too, bud,” Miller says. “Great view. Good fishing. Awesome company. What more could a guy ask for?”
Judging by the glint in his eye when I look over, I’ve got a pretty good idea. My body tingles, and I cough into my hand, hiding my blush until after Shane scampers off.
A short time later, after the light up in the loft goes out, Miller stands, reaching for my ha
nd to lead me to the bedroom. “Up for another contest?”
I grin, setting aside my notebook after reading things over.
Though technically, I’d only been staring at the pages and editing like a snail, waiting for silence from the loft. “Best two out of three again?”
He shrugs. “Or three out of five.”
“Or five out of seven,” I say, loving the fire crackling in his eyes.
I turn out the lamp next to the chair and leap up into his arms.
16
Eye to Eye (Miller)
Whether it’s the fresh woodsy air or the primal satisfaction that fucking Gwen senseless leaves behind, I’m not sure, but I’ve never slept as well as I have the last few nights.
So when my eyes open, I lie still for a moment, wondering what woke me.
It’s still dark. Nowhere near morning when the dawn’s first light flits through the mist rolling off Rainy Lake.
This darkness should be peaceful, lend itself to sweet dreams.
Instead, I’m wired.
There’s no denying the tension pulling at my body, the way the hair on my arms pricks up.
Something’s out of sorts here.
Silence echoes in my ears as I listen for something I’m not sure of till I hear it.
There.
Shit. It’s a muffled sound, almost like a scraping, out of place in the quiet, cloudy night.
Slowly, I ease off the bed, cross the room to the one small window in the bedroom, and carefully peel back the curtain. It’s as dark out as a horse’s ass.
My eyes focus, pinpointing an area where I may or may not have seen something. A motion.
A faint flash, a movement, a deer, a bear, a damn intruder.
I’m not sure if I’m right. Nothing but my gut to go on, but something’s out there. Or someone.
“What is it?” Red whispers, turning over.
I walk back to the bed, not meaning to scare her. “Don’t know, but go get the kids up, quietly. Take them down to the basement.”
Now wide awake, she climbs out of the bed and shimmies into the clothes she’d removed when we came to bed. I grab mine too and throw them on.
Knowing she hates the dark, I grasp her hand and squeeze it real tight. “We can’t turn on any lights, babe. Not if–”
“I know,” she whispers. “I’ll be okay.”
I nod.
Wanting to assure her there’s nothing to be afraid of, I say, “Just stay quiet. I won’t let anything happen to you or the kids.”
“I know that, too.” She kisses me quickly. “Just don’t let anything happen to you, either.”
“I won’t.” I have to bite my lips together then to prevent something else from slipping out.
Words I haven’t said to anyone except my kids in years. Not since Willow.
The L-word.
“Love you, Gingersnap,” I growl, wishing I had time to appreciate the sparkle in her eyes. Instead, I hold her hand as we cross into the living room. “Don’t come out, no matter what you hear.”
“Got it. We won’t. And Miller...I love you too.” She kisses my cheek again and lets go of my hand in order to climb the stairs.
It’s hard as hell, but I have to forget the tear she wiped off her rosy cheek.
If it’s more than just a black bear milling around our place, I’ve got bigger worries than figuring out what love means.
I move to the windows on the front of the A-frame cabin, and once again shift only a small piece of the heavy drapes to take a look.
It’s just as dark on this side, almost pitch-black.
There’s a string of miniature solar lights hanging off the tiny porch roof. They glow about as strong as fireflies, but they’re probably at half power tonight, casting the dullest orange glow.
Just enough light for me to see the boughs of one of the tall pine trees move.
Shit.
Wind wouldn’t do that. A small animal could, maybe, or a bigger one like a bear, but my senses wouldn’t be this prickly over anything that couldn’t talk.
I sense more than hear Gwen and the kids creeping down the stairs, and then through the door under the steps that goes down into the concealed basement. It’s more of an old storm shelter than anything, the one part of the house that isn’t fully modern.
When the door closes with barely a click, I walk over to a trunk in the corner and tap my thumbprint since it’s too dark for the code. There’s a mechanical thunk as it unlocks. One more goodie J.T.’s buddy Eagle rigged up for me.
It’s where I stowed my duffel bags. One side still has the other half of the cash, and the other has my emergency weapons cache.
I insert the magazines and tuck two 9mm handguns into the waistband of my pants, then pull out a cushioned bag holding several flash grenades. They’re tactical specialty, hardly more powerful than most firecrackers, designed to blind the enemy rather than hurt them.
Lastly, I grab the case holding the remote control for the explosives I buried around the perimeter of the cabin. They’re an option of last resort, if I need a diversion or a big, strategic boom. Without the remote, they pose no threat to anything.
I put the minis in one pocket and tuck the remote in the other, close the trunk, and walk to the kitchen area to sneak out that door.
I consider texting Eagle, but refrain. He’d have already sent me a text if he’d seen something. I hope he’s still alive.
Hell, if I’m lucky, that movement I saw could be Eagle making a deeper probe to check something, so I ease out the door and plant myself against the wall, walking to the edge of the small deck.
Scanning the area slowly, I let my gut tell me where to pin my focus.
It’s too damn dark. I ease down, not wanting to wait, and elbow crawl my way to the steps, slide down them, and crouch near the bottom of the deck.
My ears catch a sound I can make out. I hold my breath, listening.
A twig just snapped. Stepped on by someone’s uneven foot.
Whoever did it stops. For more than a minute, there’s not a murmur. I grit my teeth together, readying myself for hell.
They’re out there, all right. Just waiting, making sure no one else heard or stirs inside the house before they make their next move.
Fuck.
The air locked in my lungs ignites. I let it out through my nose, slow and quiet, so it doesn’t distract my hearing a single iota.
A thud sounds then. A big one, along with a muffled grunt.
Head down, I run to the shed, the source of the sound.
Weird. Still nothing but silence echoes in my ears. I ease along the wall to the backside, then stop at a brief flash of light.
There’s someone down the driveway, scanning around with a flashlight.
It could be Eagle, but my gut says it’s not.
I slip back around the corner of the shed and then make a mad dash into the woods, where the big pines have thick, low branches. I grab them as I move so the boughs don’t sway, then shimmy up the tree, finding a spot with a good vantage point to see the road.
I don’t have to wait long before I can count heads. Four of them.
From the way they walk and the height differences, it’s three men and one woman.
Ears fully tuned, my gut boils when I hear her. Jackie Wren’s voice, her low, whispered, frustrated words.
“Why the hell hasn’t Lex signaled?” she hisses. “I can’t believe this. Out here in the middle of goddamned nowhere when I should be in DC for a conference.”
The man ahead of her swipes an annoyed hand through the air. I almost laugh at his signal.
Jackie Wren never knows when to shut up.
I’ve sat through enough company meetings to know that woman lives to hear herself talk. She thinks she’s the next genius in industrial biotech. Not the soulless, hateful beast she actually is.
“What the hell does it mean?” she hisses again.
Nobody answers.
“He must already be in the cabin,” h
er goon answers, his gravelly voice low.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up.
In the cabin? Fuck.
Micro-inch by micro-inch, I twist and glance down at the ground.
Eagle’s there, looking up at me, this dark, muscular silhouette among the leaves and pines. He holds up one finger, then points into the woods.
I give him a thumbs-up. The thud I’d heard was him, taking down one of Jackie’s goons on the perimeter.
He then points to the trees along the driveway. I give another thumbs-up, knowing he’ll be sneaking through the woods, and hopefully ambushing Jackie and her goons before the fucks see it coming.
I don’t hear a sound as he walks away, fading into the woods.
“What about Boone?” Jackie asks, her voice shriller. “Why hasn’t he signaled?”
My nerves tingle. Lex and Boone.
Eagle had only taken out one front runner. That means there’s another asshole out here somewhere.
The man walking ahead of the others cuts his hand through the air again.
“Why does he do that? String us along forever?” Jackie again. There’s a sound like dirt, rocks kicking up and spattering the ground again. “Ugh! I can’t even walk out here. Where is he?”
I have to act, before her other man surprises either me or Eagle. Draw out him out from wherever he is.
“Up your ass, Jackie,” I growl into the darkness. “That’s where he’s gone.”
They all stop. The front man’s gun shimmers as he swings it toward the shed.
“Miller Rush?” Jackie whispers. “Finally. The man I’ve come a very long way to see. You know why I picked you over Keith, right?”
Dammit, I know. The fact that she’s tripping over her own feet probably means she’s still not fully healed from the hole I left in her leg.
She lets out her nasty, high-pitched laugh. “What’s a lady got to do so you’ll come out and play like a big boy? You can run, but you can’t hide, Miller. Not from me. Not forever.”
I say nothing, my fist tightening on my gun. It’s too dark for them to pinpoint where I’m at without a lot of effort.
“It’s adorable how you thought that little trick would work, sending us after your car down to Texas. It barely got as far as Iowa before we heard there weren’t any kids. No little Lauren. No Shane. I wonder if he’s just as big a clumsy badass as his daddy? Hey, maybe we’ll all find out soon! I bet he’s up there in that house, isn’t he? It’s almost a shame Lex will have to ruin his sweet widdle dreams.”
