Page 17 of Burning for You

Levi

“Shit,” I murmur to myself as I keep hearing Carolyn moaning behind the cubicle door.

I could make a clear run now and leave the evil woman to suffer. I’m sure it’ll be nothing compared to what our family has gone through.

But I can’t.

“Miss, I’m gonna come in, okay?”

Her moans have now trailed off.

I charge at the door, forcefully but with control, stopping it from slamming back against her. Once the lock is broken, the door can only open halfway. It’s blocked by Carolyn’s form hunching on the floor, facing down.

Using whatever room is available to me, I make myself as slim as possible and slip into the cubicle. I scoop Carolyn up in my arms. Her skirt is rolled up and her panties are down almost to her ankles.

Carolyn’s hand moves, seemingly trying to locate a spot to hang on. Something within her guides that hand to my shoulder.

Now, how do I hate a woman when she’s holding me like this?

Is it reflex? Is she aware of what’s going on?

One thing’s for sure—she doesn’t know who I am and what I’m planning on doing to her.

“Carolyn?” I whisper, testing.

No response from her, but my tongue is dancing upon calling the name, and my arms tense up in attention, as if getting ready to defend the precious human they’re holding—if anyone ever dares to snatch her away.

This is not the kind of response I’m expecting from myself. The last thing I want is to get all puppy-and-kitty with her!

But my inner self keeps betraying me. The need to take care of her is immense. I swathe her body as I move sideways to take Carolyn out to the open space of the bathroom. My elbows and back knock the partitions left and right, but she’s protected.

I lay Carolyn on the floor, cradling her head on my lap. I’ve gotta call an ambulance. But where the hell is my phone?

A vibration on the floor stirs me. From here I can see my phone buzzing next to the toilet bowl Carolyn had used. I think it’s the midget calling.

“Dammit!” I murmur and slowly draw my lap away from underneath her head. But she grumbles and clenches my shoulder.

I give up my attempt to retrieve my phone.

Carolyn Meyer keeps grumbling under her breath while her eyes are still shut. Her loins—her tidy bush and all—are exposed, whether I want to see them or not. Gulping, I ask for forgiveness in silence. I can’t let anyone else see her like this. I need to get her decent.

My experience in handling girl’s underwear goes out the window. Between the delicacy of Ms. Meyer’s lacy silk thongs and my rioting nerves, I fail to pull her panties up. One wrong move and I might rip them apart, or I might wake her up calamitously.

My hands stutter as the small purple garment twists and rolls in my grasp. Inch by inch, I slide it up to her upper thighs. They don’t look right, but that’ll have to do. I then jerk her skirt down, barely covering her groin.

With that, the lights suddenly go out.

Is this my wake-up call?

Indeed. After my heart goes fluffy and my instincts turns all protective toward Carolyn, it’s a fucking perfect time to leave this life-destroying woman behind.

But before I can get up, I hear Carolyn scream. In the dark, I feel her arms flailing over my chest and shoulders.

“Help!” she cries. As if she finally realizes that what she’s holding onto is human, she hugs me. “Please, help me!”

With how much fear is packed into that voice, I don’t think her cry for help has got anything to do with her fainting. It sounds like she’s in some kind of nightmare.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s just the lights,” I say—and I stay, accommodating Carolyn’s plea by opening up my chest, letting her ram herself against me like I’m a hero who’s arrived just in time. The closer she pulls me, the tighter I hold her. “You’ll be alright.”

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