Love Me Like That (5 page)

I turn my focus back to the fire when I catch myself staring at his full lips, chiseled cheeks, and strong jaw that’s covered with a day or two of unshaved growth. My fingers itch to touch the coarseness of it.

Shit, I need to quit drinking
. I bring the glass to my lips and take another long pull.

“You have a beautiful home.” I look around the room that seems more romantic and less eerie than it did fifteen minutes ago.
Thank you, Jack
.

“Thank you,” he answers giving nothing away.

I look back to the fire, suddenly feeling awkward and unable to think of anything else for small talk.

“Where do you call home?” I close my eyes at the rumble of his question.

Then I realize just what he’s asking. “I used to live in Great Falls, but I’m moving.”

“You were moving today? I don’t recall seeing that much in your car.”
What are you a damn detective?

I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t have much.”

My hope that he would keep within the boundaries set by social norms in regards to what’s considered appropriate topics among strangers is broken when he asks, “What are you running from?”

I whip my head to face him and find him watching me with a raised eyebrow.
You wanted to talk to him, don’t get pissed when you’re uncomfortable with the topic.

“Boyfriend trouble,” I answer honestly.

“Enough trouble to make you leave town?”

“Enough to leave the state,” I retort quickly.

“Wish running was always that easy,” he laments as he takes another sip of his whiskey and I notice for the first time the glint of the fire off of a wedding band.

Motherfucker.

I drain my glass without a second thought and mentally slap myself for ogling this married man’s lips.

“When do you expect your wife to make it? After the storm?” I watch for his reaction, but his blank stare into the fire gives me nothing.

“She’s not coming,” he finally replies as he pours another glass and tops mine off.

I drink immediately. Trouble in paradise it seems.

He sets down his glass and stands; clearly I’ve said something to piss him off.

“I’m going to go get a fire going in your fireplace upstairs, so you don’t freeze to death tonight.” He clicks on a small flashlight he’s pulled from his back pocket and makes his way out of the room.

I’m stuck with this man for the next God only knows how many days and a few hours in, and I’ve already pissed him off somehow. I toss back the remainder of my drink and close my eyes. Not like I have anywhere else to be or anywhere to go for that matter.

Although my legs and feet are steady, I can tell from the haze of my vision and the mild swimming in my head that the whiskey has already taken hold. Trudging up the stairs, I cuss under my breath at this whole fucked up situation.

When do I expect my wife?

I never imagined
that
conversation coming up and it sure as hell isn’t a conversation I’m having tonight, with a complete stranger no less. I should never have asked the questions I did. I opened the door without even knowing it.

I hit my knees in front of the hearth in the guest bedroom and slowly begin to get the fire going. The wood supply is sparse up here as well. Another thing to add to the list of stuff to buy.
Not buy, add to the list to email. You won’t be leaving here
.

Before long, the fire is raging, and I let the warmth engulf me even though nothing is strong enough to reach the iciness in my veins. I can’t imagine anything in the world strong enough to return me to the man I was just a few short years ago. Knowing I can never go back is one of the nails in my coffin. Knowing I will never have what I once did is the catalyst for being in this cabin.

I sit for a while longer but realize, unplanned or not, I still do have a guest downstairs, and I’m in her room. From the way she was staring into the fire, I have no doubt she wants to get away from me as much as I needed to leave just a few minutes earlier. I climb to my feet and sway slightly; my time at rest allowed the alcohol to take a stronger hold of me.

Using the tiny beam of light from my flashlight, I make my way down the stairs and back into the den where I find London with her head back and her eyes closed. Thinking she’s asleep, I reach out to pull the empty glass from her hands.

The movement startles her, and she gasps at my close proximity as her eyes snap open.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” I apologize taking a step back.

She grins at me sheepishly and then…then she bites her fucking lip. Her green eyes sparkle in the flickering light of the fire and my hazy, alcohol-impaired mind uses this moment to remind me of her luscious ass.

I close my eyes briefly and try to convince myself that her reaction to me is in my mind, and my thoughts are only because of the excessive amount of whiskey I’ve consumed in a very short period of time. That, along with the crushing loneliness that always haunts me, is clandestine.

“Your room should be comfortable enough for you to sleep in.” I take another step back from her and set her empty glass on the table.

She seems to be studying my face. “It’s very kind of you to let me stay here.”

I reach my hand out to her. “It’s not like I could’ve left you to die in your car.”

She smiles at me and takes my proffered hand. “I suppose not,” she whispers as I gently tug her into a standing position.

The momentum of my actions and her alcohol intake leaves her ability to balance a little skewed as well. She falls against my chest and uses her hands to steady herself. The flex of her fingers against my shirt does not go unnoticed.

She giggles and sighs as she turns and sweeps her head back and forth; it’s almost like she’s already forgotten how to get back to the guest bedroom.

“Let me help you,” I offer and steady her with an arm around her waist. I once again want to sweep her up in my arms, just like I did outside. Only, this time, the reason would be a little more self-serving because I want to feel her warmth against my body. I do know my limitations, though, and we’d both fall down the stairs if my drunken ass attempted that. In no way is a broken neck chivalrous.

I shake my head quickly trying to rid it of any of
those
thoughts.

“Thank you,” she whispers and turns her head acknowledging me. The gust of her warm breath on my neck sends a quick shiver down my spine, and for the first time today it has nothing to do with the below-freezing temps that are going on outside.

I resist the urge to squeeze her hip with the hand that is resting there and take a step forward, gently propelling her to the stairs. We stagger and sway down the hallway and somehow manage to traverse the stairs without injury or damage to the house.

I’d closed her door behind me to keep the warmth of the fire in the room when I left earlier. Stepping up to the door, I use my free hand to turn the knob and push it open. As we clear the reach of the door, I use my foot to close it behind us. How I did that without toppling us both over I have no idea.

I’m trying to convince myself I’m not as drunk as I’d initially thought as I step up to the side of the bed. With London on my right, I reach out with my left hand and pull back the covers so she can slip in. When I feel her hot breath on my neck again, I’m convincing myself I’m too drunk to make good choices.

I blame the alcohol for parting my lips when she turns in my arms and presses her soft mouth against mine. I blame the alcohol for taking two large handfuls of her succulent ass and squeezing. I blame the alcohol for grinding my erection against her lower belly.

My erection.

An erection that I got from just this kiss. A typical response to a sexual stimulus. A response that hasn’t happened in what seems like forever that didn’t take an extremely assertive focus, namely long minutes of oral stimulation. In other words, it usually takes a focused blow job to get me this revved up. At least it has the last couple of years.

I groan when her cold fingers find their way under my t-shirt and caress the muscles on my back. I reach over my shoulders and pull the shirt over my head, tossing it unceremoniously to the floor. Grateful she broke the skin to skin proverbial ice, I slide my hands past the waist of her athletic pants, under her barely there panties and grip her ass.

Sliding her hands around, she begins to work feverishly to get my belt buckle undone. I step back and take over, unable to move fast enough with the whiskey haze. She watches me and begins to strip down. Not even bothering with her top half she hastily pushes down her athletic pants and underwear, kicking them to the side.

The second my jeans and boxers are free of my feet we crash back together. Her arms are around my neck, and my hands have once again gravitated to her ass. The skin to skin contact is electric, and I’m so greedy for her I lift her in my arms and position her on the bed, my erection pulsing against her hot, wet heat.

I nip her neck and release her ass so I can shove her shirt up. Pulling the zipper of her sports bra down, the most magnificent pair of tits I’ve ever seen are exposed in the dancing light of the flames from the fireplace.

Amazing. I’ve always considered myself an ass man until this very second when I came face to face with these incredible breasts. She whimpers when I strike at a puckered tip with my hot mouth. The grinding of her hips against my already straining length is all the permission I need to pull my hips back, lining the head up at her entrance and thrust into her.

She arches her back, pushing her magnificent breasts into my face. My mouth is hungry for her as I feed on every inch of her delicate flesh that I can reach without having to leave the incredibly tight heat of her body.

She’s meeting every deep thrust of mine, rotating her hips on the downward stroke to grind her swollen clit against me, her body searching for release. The bite of her nails down my back urge me on, harder, deeper. I can’t tell if it’s her or the alcohol rushing thickly through my veins that's making this seem so euphoric. It feels too good to give even a second more of consideration.

I bury my face in her neck and breathe in the delicious smell of her flowery shampoo and clean sweat. She groans loudly and bites my shoulder as her body goes rigid and her core clenches me like a fist.

“Fuck!” I roar as she takes me over the edge with her into bliss. A perfect swan dive, head-first into sweet oblivion.

I kiss her lips briefly before pulling out and falling onto the bed by her side. I remember pulling the blanket up to cover us as the coolness of the air hits the sweat on my body. Then peaceful nothingness.

“Fuck,” Kadin says gruffly pulling me from sleep. I feel his chest rumble against my cheek. My breathing hitches.

What the fuck have I done?

The only thing I can do is pretend to still be asleep as he shifts his weight gingerly out from underneath me. I can tell by his cautious movements he has no intention of waking me and facing what we so stupidly did last night.

Married.

You just slept with a married man. You knew he was married, and you let him fuck you anyways. Then, to make matters even worse you wrapped yourself around him like a vine and slept in his arms all night, just like you were back home with Trent.