Maddie
Searching for satellite. Searching for satellite. Searching for satellite…
After ten minutes, the nav system was no closer to finding the satellite than I was to erasing the white-hot sting of Hawke’s touch from my skin.
I clicked off the device and fished through the glove box for the map from the car rental place, hoping I could figure out the right direction toward town.
Hawke lived on the outskirts, but the tiny town center catered to tourists, and it had a bus line as well as private shuttles for the skiers and snowboarders that flooded the area every winter. Assuming I could find my way there, maybe I could catch a shuttle to my parents’ place tonight, then have Dad bring me back to Hawke’s tomorrow to grab the rest of my stuff from the car and wait for the tow truck.
Not like I’d have to interact with Hawke for that. He wouldn’t even need to know we were there.
And if the shuttles weren’t running tonight, I could probably find a restaurant or coffee shop to wait out the storm. Some quaint little mountain-view café filled with laughter and clinking glasses and hot cocoa and Christmas music—everything I loved about the holidays but had so often missed out on.
Not this year, though. This year was supposed to be different. I was strong. I was healthy. I’d been given a second chance, and I wasn’t about to squander it on a man who couldn’t even look me in the eye after I’d sucked him up like a damn Hoover.
I rubbed my fist against my chest, knuckles tracing the now-familiar grooves and ridges of the scar that ran down the front of me like a zipper. It didn’t hurt—not anymore. It was a comfort now, a reminder that life was short, that it was meant to be lived with passion and intensity and yes, even a little recklessness. That was the promise I’d made last December, and despite the risks, despite my parents’ constant fretting, despite my own deep-seated fears that my doctors’ predictions were eventually going to come true, I intended to keep that promise for as long as I could.
A few hours with a sexy, fierce, hot-tempered, seriously messed-up, multiple-orgasm-inducingreclusewasn’t going to change that. If anything, it only reinforced my desire to keep going. To pick myself up again, dust off my shoulders, charge right back out there, and grab the reindeer by the horns.
To live my life. Truly live it.
I’d taken a colossal risk tonight. I’d done something crazy, something wild, something all for me. And for that, I couldn’t be mad—couldn’t regret it—no matter how awkwardly and abruptly things had ended.
You’ve got this, girl.
With renewed hope, I checked the laces on my boots, re-knotted my scarf, and stuffed my hands back into my thick wool mittens. If my map-reading skills were reliable, the town center was a few miles down the mountain—practically a straight shot, save for a couple of forks in the road along the way.
There was a time when a few miles would’ve felt like an impossible marathon, but not anymore. Now, it was practically a cakewalk.
Passion. Intensity. A little recklessness.
“Let’sdothis thing, bitches.”
Leaving most of the luggage in the car, I packed up a few essentials into my shoulder bag, slung it across my chest, and clomped down to the road. Miracle of miracles, it looked like the plows had been through fairly recently, leaving the roads somewhat clear.
Snow was still falling in big, fat gobs, but the wind had eased up, lessening the brutal sting of the cold, and as I set off on my next adventure, I was feeling pretty good about my decision to take matters into my own hands.
The sky was dark, but the snow from the surrounding woods reflected a soft white glow all around me, lighting my path along the road. There was no sound but my breath and the soft crunch of my boots in the snow—the kind of deep, dark silence that didn’t exist in New York. The kind that made me feel like the very last person on earth.
It was terrifying and comforting all at once.
After I’d walked a few dozen yards down the road, Hawke’s cabin disappeared entirely from view. But that treacherous little body of mine refused to let him go. I was still primed and ready, the fresh panties I’d put on already damp with arousal, my core aching for Hawke’s expertly delivered thrusts.
The chemistry between us had been explosive; from the moment he’d opened the door, I’d felt the tension and electricity crackling like a live wire. And once we’d actually touched? Kissed? I was surprised we hadn’t burned down the house.
How had things gone from so scorching hot to so completely frigid?
Had I been too forward? I could’ve sworn he’d wanted me as much as I’d wanted him. Had I misread his signals? Thrown myself at him too easily?
Had I somehow forgotten how to give a decent blow job?
Was that evenpossible?
As the thoughts sped up and collided in my head, I continued my march down the mountain, more determined than ever to put a whole lot of distance between my body and Hawke’s filthy mouth.
I felt like I was making good time, but it wasn’t too long before the snow-capped evergreens all started to look the same, and without streetlights or passing cars, I couldn’t be certain I was still heading in the right direction—if I’d taken all the right forks. After another fifteen minutes of walking, I stopped to catch my breath and get my bearings, and my stomach bottomed out as reality came crashing down.
I had no idea where I was.
