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I picked up the wood off the snow, stacking it. My parents’ cabin ate a lot of wood, more than one fireplace in there that needed it. I’d noticed the woodpile outside was looking thin after my run, and anything I could do outside of that cabin and away from Sloane I needed right fucking now. I didn’t want to say anything stupid and make shit worse. I was in my feelings. I was mad, and I wasn’t good at talking about shit. My therapist knew about that firsthand.
I noticed the agents’ eyes on us while I stacked, well aware they were watching over us. A couple had ended up going with me on my run and more had stayed with me after when I’d come back outside. They were just doing their job, and I knew they probably wouldn’t tell me to go inside, even though I’d been out here for probably too long.
Sloane studied me, not wearing enough clothes herself out here. She had on a pair of leggings that made me want to drop the ax and bend her over in front of me, shove those things to her ankles while I filled her with my cock. I’d been cold before she came over, but so much blood rushed to my dick now, I could probably split wood without the fucking ax.
Adjusting myself, I ignored it, fighting it. I didn’t want to do this shit with her. Hell, I didn’t even want to be fucking mad at her. Emotions were a son of a bitch, and I was never good at expressing them. I couldn’t tell her how hurt I was, angry. I didn’t have the right, and I fucking knew that, which made all this so much worse.
The shove came out of nowhere, and I dropped the wood I’d been stacking. Honest to fuck, I just hadn’t seen it coming, which was why she’d been able to do it.
Sloane stood there after she did, looking proud of herself even. She was amped up, pumping her lanky little arms. “Well, I’m not just going to let you, so if you’re mad, talk about it. I’m waiting.”
I blinked, more shocked than anything. The little fighter had actually pushed me, shoved me. Being the bigger man, I tempered my anger, but then she came at me again. I growled. “Noa…”
“He has words, everyone,” she announced to the few watching us. They eyed her like she was insane, and she was acting insane. She raised her arms to them. “Maybe he’ll actually talk to me now instead of acting like a big ole baby.”
Okay, that shit wasn’t fucking cool, and she ignited the rage inside me when she got up on the stump I’d been using to cut wood.
She put hands around her mouth. “Let’s see if he’ll actually—”
I got her by the hips, my favorite means of transportation for her. She squealed when I tossed her over my shoulder, the tactic always a bit caveman-ish, but I didn’t give a fuck.
Sloane kicked, of course, always fucking did. She started hitting me too, and all that did was get her ass hit. I gave her a sharp slap to her ass, those cheeks probably nice and rosy under those sexy-as-fuck leggings.
She was screaming by the time I took her to the shed, not far from the wood stump, and security let me. This argument was clearly just a bunch of bullshit between Sloane and me and the trivial crap of two people who couldn’t talk to each other right, but if it was, I wasn’t going to have it in front of an audience.
I put Sloane in the shed, but the hits only continued when we got there, and I closed the door behind us.
“See. This is what I’m talking about,” she cut, her face exploded in red color. She was a madwoman, her dark hair flinging around when she punched at my biceps and chest with her little fists. “You don’t talk. You just act like a complete dick, and you have no right to be mad at me. I did what I did to keep you safe. To keep you out of this.”
She was right that I had no right to be mad at her. Not after what she’d been through, and I didn’t want to be this way.
I just couldn’t stop the pain of it.
The hurt in full blast, I got one of her fists and pinned it to the wall. “You didn’t trust me. You went behind my back and didn’t fucking talk to me!”
The words out there, she froze, her throat working, mouth flushed, pink. I wanted to force her on her knees and fill it with my cock, punish her for not believing I could take care of her.
For not having faith.
“I should have been the first person you came to,” I said, pressing my body against hers. Our hearts slammed into each other, and I covered her throat with my hand, making her gasp. “So yeah, I’m fucking mad. Yeah, I’m fucking hurt. The girl I love doesn’t trust me to take care of her, and that shit hurts.”
The words were amplified around us, and I felt things going too far. Especially when I had both hands around her throat. I guided her mouth up, and soft breaths escaped her lips.
“You can’t believe that,” she gasped. She wet her lips. “You don’t believe that.”
But I did, and what else could I fucking believe? I shook my head. “You promised me you wouldn’t run, but you did. You left. You…”
She’d left me, and I couldn’t even with that shit. If she was going to leave, we should have left together.
Something in that moment had her emotional, a tear falling down her cheek. Numbness had obviously left my hands because my knuckles felt the heat of it when I dragged my good set of knuckles down her face. They came away wet, and I wasn’t thinking when I bit her mouth.
I just wanted to taste her.
I told myself that was the only thing it was, a taste. Our mouths sealed, though, and the euphoria became better than the numbness.
No more pain.
No more hurt.
