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It’s midnight. I just want to go to bed. The sooner I can get to sleep, the sooner tomorrow will be here, and I can get away from Storm forever. He is totally a bad influence, luring me into strange orgasmic situations I never, ever would have done under normal circumstances. I wonder if this is how he spends most of his nights, just getting woman off at every tick of the clock.
I don’t say anything to him when he comes into the house and locks the glass door behind him.
“You’re giving me the silent treatment now?” he asks, poking at the fire and adding another log. “Just because of that?”
“You know I don’t want to do those things, Storm. You keep turning my body against me.”
“Maybe you should give your body what it wants.”
No. I am not going there with him. I just want him to be quiet and leave me alone so I can go back to my normal state of being, boring as it may be.
“Come on, I’ll take you to the bedroom and you can get some sleep.”
I silently follow him down the hallway to a huge bedroom with a monstrous four-poster bed all done in mahogany wood with matching dressers. The walls are painted a deep wine color, and thick white carpet covers the floor. Off to the side is a private bathroom.
“Wow. This is beautiful.”
“Thanks. This is my room, but you can sleep in here. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
I know a saw another closed door in the hallway that I’m pretty sure led to another bedroom. “Isn’t there a guest room down the hall? I can sleep there, I don’t mind.”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s not a bedroom. I just store my shit in there and it’s a mess.”
“Oh. I can’t take your bed, Storm. You’ve been scrunched up in a truck for two days. You deserve to stretch out.”
“It’s fine. The couch is huge. Niko and I sleep there a lot. No worries, okay?” He ruffles my hair. God, I hate that. It goes back to being cute. “There’s a bathroom right there if you need it.”
“Okay. Thanks. I feel bad taking your bed, though.” I’m not just saying that, I truly do feel bad. It feels unfair. “I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.”
He starts to walk toward the door. “Absolutely not.” He turns to face me again. “In the morning, I’ll take you to town so we can figure out what’s up with your car, and you can call Michael and get yourself home.”
“Sounds good.”
With that, he leaves. I don’t know why a room always feels strangely empty after he walks out. I undress, leaving just my panties on and climb into the huge bed. This must be a king size bed. It’s bigger than any bed I’ve ever been in. I sink back into the soft pillows and pull the comforter over me. It’s down and just heavenly soft. Being able to stretch out and having the softness of the sheets surround me is incredible. I feel like I’m lying in a cloud.
My eyes are getting heavy as sleep attempts to pull me under. My body and mind are exhausted from the last few days. I want to close my eyes and slip away from it all, but I can’t. My mind keeps wandering back to Storm... in the other room... on the couch with his dog. His ability to annoy me is huge and his so-called orgasm assistance is by far the worst thing I have ever done. I know it’s cheating no matter how he tries to spin it. But there is definitely something else there, hiding under the surface—something pulling us to each other like a magnet.
I crawl out of the bed and find my sweatshirt, pulling it over my head. I don’t bother putting my pants back on. I quietly tiptoe out into the hallway and down into the living room. He’s just sitting on the couch. His back is to me so he doesn’t know I’m there. He’s sitting there in total silence, just staring out the windows into the black nothingness of the night. I quietly step closer to him.
“Storm?”
His head snaps to look at me. “What’s wrong?”
I’ve lost my voice. It’s hiding behind my thoughts and feelings. Thoughts and feelings I can’t even begin to explain or understand right now.
“I-I just...” I look down, away from his intense stare. What am I doing? “Nothing,” I say softly. “Goodnight.”
I walk back down the dimly lit hallway and find my way back to the huge bed, snuggling back under the covers. I wonder why he’s just sitting there and what he’s thinking. Probably plotting my next unwanted orgasm.
I begin to drift off, but I feel a weight on the bed. I open my eyes, and it’s Niko lying at the foot of the bed, curled up against my feet. I smile. Halo sleeps on the bed with me, too. “Goodnight, Niko,” I whisper. That’s when I notice Storm in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. My heart literally stops. The fuck is he doing?
I don’t say anything as he slowly walks toward the bed. He stops when he gets right next to the side of the bed where I’m lying. He is only inches away, but I can hardly see him in the darkness. I can feel him, though. I can feel the heat radiating off his body. I can hear his steady breathing. I find his hand in the dark and I gently pull him onto the bed. He is massive in the bed next to me—all legs, muscle, and hair. I’m trembling all over and I’m not sure if it’s from fear or the new unknown excitement that he forces onto my body. He rolls onto his side and pulls me against him, cocooning me against his chest.
“I can feel your heart pounding, Evie.” His voice is so low I can barely hear him.
“I can feel yours, too.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I know. I’m scared.”
“You should be.”
Everything inside me freezes.
“You have no idea who I am. Or what I could do to you. I could do things to you that you can’t even fucking imagine, Evie.” He burrows his nose into my hair and takes a deep breath. “I want to make you scream.”
Fear and sheer desire rip through my body. Those two feelings should never be mixed up and thrown together into the same space. I want to run. I want to hide under the bed. I want him to kiss me. I want to touch every inch of him. Fuck me. I am so messed up.
“Relax, little one. I’m not going to touch you or hurt you. But I will be the ghost that haunts you.”
Shit. Damn. Fuck.
He lets go of me and rolls onto his back, but reaches for my hand and entwines our fingers together. We fall asleep that way, two feet apart, our hands still together.
Chapter Six
There’s something terribly intimate about watching a person sleep. To watch them when they have no idea you are doing it. It’s an invasion of the highest form to gaze upon someone when they are unable to hide, or put a wall up, to protect whatever scars or vulnerabilities they might have. I’m doing this now, but like so many other things these past few days I can’t stop myself. Nor do I want to.
Storm is lying on his back sleeping. Sometime during the night, he pushed the comforter off himself and it’s now only covering him from the waist down. One arm is bent up, curled under the pillow below his head. I stare at his face. His eyelashes are incredibly long and dark. He has some scruff on his face from not shaving for a few days. His lips are full and are slightly parted as he breathes soundly. His long hair is fanned out over the pillow. His chest, sides, and stomach, as well as his arms, are covered in ink. It’s a huge collage of mostly black with some color. There are words in calligraphic style—don’t fear the pain, rise above, all that’s ugly is beautiful, hate me or fuck me. What? That last one, seriously?
The artwork is beautiful and just a mishmash of things. Castles, wolves, faces, masks, clowns, swords, feathers, random numbers, a rainbow, a motorcycle on a road, bleeding hearts, a raven, peeking eyes. There’s a black arrow low on his hip pointing toward his crotch. I smirk at it.
His skin is naturally dark and smooth. I spy a long scar on his chest, jagged and almost hidden under the fuzzy hairs and ink. I want to touch it, but I don’t let myself. Every part of him is defined muscle. He must work out a lot to look like this. This type of bulk does not come from sitting around.
He stirs and rolls over toward me, and his eyes slowly open and
lock right onto mine. He’s caught me staring at him again.
“I’m gonna start charging you.” His voice is groggy and sleepy.
“Very funny,” I say.
He sits up and stretches his arms out. “Breakfast or a blowjob?” he says.
“What?” I’m not smiling anymore.
“Those are the choices when a chick wakes up in my bed.”
“Not for this chick. Sorry.” Ugh, he’s such a pig sometimes.
He looks down at me with his bratty smile. “I’m just kidding. Don’t get all crazy.”
I shake my head in annoyance at him and roll over so I’m facing the other side of the bed. I should get up, but it’s so nice to be in such an amazingly comfortable bed. I wish I could stay in it all day.
He props himself on his elbow and stares down at me. “I watched you sleep too, ya know. In the truck.”
“I’m sure that was exciting.” Ugh. I hope I wasn’t making weird faces, drooling, or snoring when I was sleeping. I’m sure I didn’t look all pretty and glamorous like women did in the movies.
“You twitch.”
I wince. Of course, something embarrassing.
“You don’t sleep peacefully, Evelyn. Why not? What are you thinking about?”
“How would I know? I’m sleeping.”
“I thought I was wound up, but I think you’re even worse than me.”
“I am not wound up,” I say sitting up and holding the sheet against my chest. I swing my legs off the side of the bed. I don’t want to hear any more of his comments about me. I just want to go home.
I look at him over my shoulder. “If you’re done psycho-analyzing me, can we please get dressed and go?”
