Page 65 of Overcast

Maybe I should’ve just letthose clowns keep her. It’s the second time I’ve had that thought, and the more I do, the more powerful the wish becomes.

I’ve watched her fingertips brush the cabinets of my kitchen, her wandering eyes taking in part of my hidden world that I built in case I needed to take my entire family there. It was for when Wade was president, and if his goons couldn’t protect him and my sister, I had a backup plan.

Everything Stormi touches, I want to immediately go in and wipe off. I told her not to move, so not touching should’ve been implied.

Regardless, I wasn’t going back down there. Not when she’s shirtless, and her body was more picturesque than what I imagined up in my head.

I don’t trust myself, and that’s an unlying problem. Not even Emmy’s shitty text could soften my cock when I stood there and gaped at her like a fifteen-year-old that’s never seen a pair of tits.

She had blood on it.

That was a fucking reason why I asked her to remove it. And now I don’t want to see her.

Granted, I’ve been eye-fucking her through my computer screen while Emmy kindly introduces herself, shaking her hand and gesturing for her to take a seat. Em is a people-person, I’m not.

Cracking open my beer, I immediately take a large gulp of it while my eyes stay pinned on that plain as fuck white bra and those slender shoulders that I would love to sink my teeth into.

You’re a fucked up human being. More than you believed prior to all this.

Being sexually attracted to my hostage is as dumb as it gets. Honestly didn’t think I could stoop that low.

But here we are. My gaze follows her every movement. I notice every hoist of her chest from her nervous exhales and how her posture is already starting to relax.

All because Emmy looks like a second-grade school teacher and hasn’t stopped smiling at her since walking in.

That alone pisses me off.

So why I’m lusting over a female that almost took away my entire reason for living—no clue.

However, I’m tired of it. Maybe Jane isn’t doing it for me. Maybe I need someone who’s more submissive and otherworldly looking. Normally not my type but—hey, anything to get myself out of this glitch of how I’m feeling right now, I’m down. Stormi is a means to an end, and I’m not getting balls deep into a woman who has done nothing but try to deceive me this whole time.

Stormi takes a seat across from Emmy, clasping her small hands together. Em must’ve offered a drink because she starts for my fridge, and I’m a second away from calling to bitch at her to get this shit over with.

After arguing with Em for over ten minutes, I finally allowed her to have a crack at the blonde who won’t leak a damn thing. Maybe a woman can persuade her to speak, I don’t fucking know, I’m out of options, and she can’t stay here anymore.

Not when Reagan, Huck, Wade, and my unborn nephew or niece lie more than a football field away.

Emmy—as much as I don’t want to admit it—is my last hope to figure all this bullshit out.

* * *

Her gaze keeps roaming the room, and she hasn’t said a word to me since I walked in here. Emmy brought her clothes—mine—and something to eat. She didn’t touch the food, but I wasn’t going to spend the night watching her to see if she does. I only spent most of it regarding her pace and squirm on the couch restlessly, trying to sleep while I chugged beer after beer.

I got so fucked up that my woozy brain wanted to go down there to beg her at one point to tell me anything that might be helpful.

Thank God for my rational side.

“Tired?” Stormi leaps from her slumber, sitting upright and flashing her large, and now open, blues at me.

Yep, should’ve had Emmy offer her own damn shirt because she looks way too fucking good in mine.

Stormi violently shakes her head at my question, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

I haven’t slept, I’m aware that she hasn’t either with the puffy skin underneath her eyes and the fatigued expression on her face. I’m betting that we can both argue that we want this over with.

“Going to need you to stand, sweetheart,” I tell her, still towering over her weary frame as she pretends to study the floor.

She slowly peers up, those beautiful glaciers piercing into me so sharp that I feel it prod my chest.

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