Who knew a bead of precum could be so erotically stimulating? Its descent and ultimate destruction have my panties the dampest they’ve ever been. I’m hot all over and on the verge of begging JR to become a minute-man like Cedric so I can take in the way his eyes dilate when he comes and discover if it will soften his hardened features even more than a peaceful night’s sleep.
I’m so close to having my unvoiced wishes answered, I can taste his arousal on the tip of my tongue. It’s right there, almost in his grasp, then a noise I was seeking two days ago steals my focus from his engorged knob.
Even with the winds last night sounding like a freight train, there’s no mistaking the distinct noise of helicopter blades. They’re so loud, it seems as if they’re hovering right above us.
The hope sees me sprinting for the front door of the cabin even faster than I bolted during my endeavor to protect JR.
JR grunts for me to stop, but I’m out the door and wading through the snow in two heart-thrashing seconds. Then, just as quickly, I wave my arms through the air like my lips aren’t turning a dangerous shade of blue.
“I’m down here!” I scream, certain this is the rescue crew who most likely had to suspend their search due to dangerous conditions. “Hel—”
Before all my plea leaves my mouth, I’m crash tackled from the side. The snow softens the blow of JR’s hit, but I’m winded when he uses his body and a deer skin to conceal us from the rescue helicopter circling above us.
“No… don’t,” I beg through big wheezy breaths when my endeavor to free myself from his hold has JR’s hand inching toward my mouth. He wants to silence me even more than I want to escape his clutch.
This could be my only chance of freedom. I can’t give this up because of my libido. I worked too hard for too long to watch all my dreams circle the drain.
I don’t know if my pleading eyes get me over the line or the weakening of the helicopter blades above our head. Whatever it is, the effects are devastating. JR’s ploy to hide me from the people endeavoring to save me worked. The helicopter is retreating, and the knowledge makes me extremely angry.
“Why did you do that?” I whack into him like my body no longer cares that he’s pinning me to a snowy ground with the very thing it was mesmerized with only minutes ago. “They could have been looking for me. They might have been my only chance of getting out of these woods alive!”
His angry roar freezes me. I can see the denial in his eyes, smell the anger seeping from his skin, and the pungent aroma intensifies as he plucks me from the ground, tosses me over his shoulder, then storms back into the cabin.
When he dumps me onto the bed, his eyes stray to the vine curled around the bed knob for the quickest second. His contemplation on whether to restrain me or not barely lasts five seconds, but it’s long enough to warn me that I’m pushing the perimeters of his understanding.
After glaring at me like I’ve lost the privilege to watch him please himself, he storms to the closet to get dressed. It’s a fast, angry procedure that ends with him removing my sleet sodden shirt and replacing it with a dry one.
I won’t lie, his eyes’ refusal to budge from my face hurts more than it should. I like the way he looked at me when stroking his cock. It was a wanton stare instead of one pronged with disrespect.
“I don’t believe the spikes were for me,” I mutter, needing to say something to lessen his anger. “Cedric is an asshole, and his family don’t have the best morals, but that doesn’t make them murderers.” When he snatches up the vine, even more angered by my so-called defense of the Lancasters, I snatch my hand away before pushing back from him with a grunt. “No. I’m not letting you do this. I know you can communicate with me. You just choose not to. Well, guess what? You don’t get to be angry at someone for not understanding you when you won’t give them a chance!”
I slap his hands away when he careens them toward my face. I’m scared as hell, but since my anger is ten times worse, I refuse to let my fear of being suffocated to death paralyze me this time around. I deserve answers, and since he is the only one who can give them to me, I’ll fight him for them.
“Tell me what they did? Tell me why you hate them so much? Then perhaps if I know why you’re so gung-ho to keep me away from them, I won’t fight you at every turn.”
With his hand weaved through my hair to force me to hold his gaze and his eyes boring into mine, he exposes every sordid detail. He doesn’t use words to share his secrets, though. He doesn’t need to. The hurt in his eyes I was mistaking for anger is extremely telling, not to mention the slash marks on his wrists no amount of callouses could hide.
The Lancasters made him want to give up, but for some reason, he held on, and I can’t help but feel like that reason was me.
ChapterThirteen
“Can I help?”
Although JR’s back is facing me, I wait for his eyes to fleetingly lock with mine in the reflection of the steel splash back in the kitchen before asking my question. It’s a similar size and cut as the mirror in the bathroom but steamier since JR has been preparing dinner for the past hour.
What started as an awe-inspiring day soon turned into a nightmare. JR hasn’t spoken to me all day. Although that isn’t unusual for him, he hasn’t grunted at me either. He’s avoiding me, and for some inane reason, it hurts more than Cedric’s betrayal.
“I don’t know how to prepare…” I swallow before forcing out my next two words, “…deer meat, but I can shell peas. It was my job anytime we had a family function during my childhood.”
I wait and wait and wait for JR to answer me, and just when I think he never will, he removes the bowl of peas from the cutting board he’s preparing fresh meat on and places them on the table in front of me.
“Thank you.” Since he’s facing me, I sign my praise as well as speak it.
His grunt is brisk, but it sours my heart rate to a never-before reached level. There’s no doubt his shell is as hard as his exterior, but the more I chip at it, the more fascinating he becomes. He’s reserved and aloof but still compassionate and caring. There are so many layers to him, and it will take more than one snowstorm to work them all out.
Desperate to spark a conversation, I talk about what everyone does when snowed in—the weather. “With how hard it’s snowing, I bet you wish you had an inside toilet. The multiple treks after you eat your stew will be horrendous.”
I mentally pat myself on the back when his grunt is more humor-based than annoyed. After placing two handfuls of diced meat into a rusty pot on top of an open fire heater, he twists back around to face me. Although it presents the perfect opportunity for me to recommence the interrogation I instigated this morning, I wasn’t lying when I said his silence the past couple of hours hurt. So instead of bringing up the past, I keep my focus on the now. “Is it wrong of me to admit what you’re cooking smells so good I’m regretting my decision to stick with vegetables?”
