Page 138 of Overcast

Two gunshots startleme from my sleep, whipping my body upright, and my eyes sprinting through the room for an intruder or Emric changing his mind and killing me.

Dresser, small desk, chair, and the window that is covered by white meshed curtains, it’s only me here.

Squeezing my eyes closed, I whisk the sound away as the beginning of a pounding headache starts to form in my temples. The house remains eerily quiet like it always is besides the chirping of the birds outside and the soft breeze.

I was fully aware last night that this may happen.

Each jello shot and pink drink that Mills swiped and I ordered was going to take its toll on me. That my body wasn’t accustomed for such amounts and I’d do things that I—

Oh crap.

My eyes expand as visions of straddling Emric’s lap and his fingers stroking my pussy plow through the forefront of my head and the annoying ticking of the aftermath of too much liquor.

I want to make you come, Stormi. Right in the middle of this club, when you are worthy of so much more. When maybe you won’t remember for just a split second that you’ll regret it afterward.

I wait for it, pulling up my white comforter to my chest and somewhat ready to face the consequences. For them to slap me across the face and scold me for being so stupid and careless. For not thinking clearly and using my buzzed state to do things that are unacceptable in my circumstance.

But it doesn’t come.

Another crack of a gunshot ricochets off my bedroom walls, and I jolt out of bed.

“Emric!” My hands immediately cover my mouth at my bad decision.

If there are bad guys in this house, I just gave away my position.

Shit.

I listen for a noise, voices, a creak along the hardwood floors in the hallway outside my bedroom door, but nothing greets me back.

Slowly, I make my way to my door, finding it empty and Emric’s bedroom door open.

Another crack of gunfire rouses my body, and I jump in response, snapping my neck to the sound of it being outside. My anatomy buzzes with anxiety as I peer out at the familiar woods that surround the house. The beautiful country-side scenery when my gaze falls on Emric shoving a magazine in a gun.

He’s alone, peering over his shoulder at one of the three blacked-out silhouette targets and rolls his wide shoulders. Dressed in a baby blue tee that makes the black tattoos of his sleeve pop out, I study him taking a sip of his coffee, lost in his own world of thought.

I’m misplaced in mine, going through uncharted terrain, and the way that feelings of being terrified of him are replaced with a sense of normalcy.

This isn’t natural.

It’s not a typical reaction to someone who kidnapped you, tortured and interrogated, then flipped his switch and treats you like a human being.

Torture me, baby. This will be the best way you’ll ever get to do it.

My body buzzes, hitting my core with just the replay of how his eyes blazed with lust. I’ve seen how Emric looks at me but, last night, he was everywhere—jealous, overbearing, and aroused. I wanted him to do more than strum me with his fingers and taunt me with dirty words. I craved his lips all over my hot skin, his tongue to dance over my neck, and tell me everything he wanted to do in that moment.

Except there was Bishop and Mills behind us.

Behind us.

My face blazes in embarrassment at what they probably think of me. I literally threw myself at Emric and did something very private in a public place. I humped Emric like a horny dog and could’ve put on a show for the patrons of the club with the amount of grinding I did. I could’ve easily used Emric as my pole.

Pride slithers into my unease—I was spontaneous and fearless. I kissed a man that would never in a million years look in my direction, and I did it in front of literally anyone who looked in our way.

Thanks to the tequila, but still, I was aware of what I was doing. I comprehended what I was getting into when I let Emric touch me, and I don’t have much remorse other than the fact that Emric might be regretting it right about now.

Last night wasn’t awkward afterward. We left the club shortly after, and when we got home, he walked me to my bedroom.

That was it.

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