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"Finally, fuck!" I scowl.
She turns to glance in the direction where I’m looking. "Is th-that a h-house?" she whispers.
"It’s the lodge."
I break into a run toward the structure. Step up on the patio and reach the door. I push my shoulder into it, but it doesn’t budge. I try again, and the wood creaks but it doesn’t open.
"Cazzo,"I growl. "Now what?"
"Maybe there's a k-key under a p-pot or so-something?" she mumbles.
"Surely, that only happens in movies?"
"Why d-don’t y-you… At least, t-try?" Her teeth click together, a staccato rhythm that matches my racing heartbeat, and she attempts to pull her legs up, trying to hold onto what little warmth there is trapped between us.
I swivel around and notice a pot near the edge of the patio. I walk toward it, then sink down to one knee. "Can you reach for it?"
She reaches for the pot, and I lower her further until she can feel under it.
"F-found it," she cries out.
Well, whaddya know? The movies did get something right, after all.
I straighten and walk over to the door. Hands shaking, she struggles to fit the key in the lock. Finally, the key clicks into place and turns. I put my shoulder to the door, and this time, the door gives way.
I step into the darkened interior. Bluish light streams in from a window on one side. I head for the fireplace and lower her down to the carpet in front of it.
I peel off my jacket from around her, then her shirt and bra. I reach for her waistband. "I'll ... d-do it," she insists.
I watch as she tries to grip the zipper, unable to stop the quaking of her hands. Her fingers slip on the zipper once, twice. I reach over and brush her fingers aside. She protests.
"Don't be ridiculous," I mutter. “I’ve already seen what’s inside your clothes, remember?"
I lower her zipper, peel her jeans and panties down her legs and notice she’s still wearing her boots. I guide her to the couch then help her out of her boots and socks. I straighten, grab the cover off the back of the settee and wrap it around her shoulders. She shivers, then sneezes.
"Porca miseria."I scowl. "Better get the fire started." I turn to the fireplace, get to work with the kindling and matches I find next to it. Once the tinder sparks, I add the logs. Within minutes, flames lick around the edges of the wood, and the warmth builds in the space.
I spring up, walk over to where she's seated, then haul her up into my arms and deposit her on the plush rug in front of the fire. She doesn't protest, and I know I’ve done the right thing when she sinks down with a sigh and snuggles deeper into the cover.
I shrug off my shirt, step out of my boots, and pull of my socks, pants, and boxers.
I walk over to the bar in the corner of the living room—yes, the lodge is small, but no way, would we Sovranos have compromised on having a bar in the house—and grab a half-full bottle of whiskey and two glasses.
I walk over to her, place the bottle down on the ground, then sink down next to her.
She turns, and I don’t miss how she rakes her gaze down my body. She takes in the tattoos on my chest and upper arm, then lowers her gaze to my crotch. Her lips part,and she takes in another shaky breath.
"Here…" I pour some of the liquor into a glass and offer it to her.
Her hand trembles as she reaches for it. She downs the whiskey in one gulp and bursts out coughing.
I sip mine at a slower pace, and by the time I’m done, she’s placed her glass down on the ground next to her.
"How are you feeling?" I peer into her flushed features.
"St-still… c-cold." A trembling grips her. Her teeth chatter, and the sound of them clacking against each other is loud in the space. "Sorry, it’s p-probably the sh-shock s-setting in," she stutters.
I place my glass next to hers, then pull her onto my lap. She doesn’t protest. I cradle her and tuck her head under my chin.
