Page 38 of Braving the Storm
My eyes squeeze shut as my fingers claw against the tiled wall.Everything glows and tingles, and that coil winds tighter. The same sensation as last night when I had a rugged cowboy standing between my knees. He loomed over me as I sat there unmoving, tall and imposing, like the pine trees surrounding this cabin. The press of his fingertips against my nape damn near had me whimpering, just like I’m at risk of doing right now.
I can’t make a sound… I can’t—
“Briar, are you ok in there?”
Oh, fuck. Oh, god. My fingers jerk away from my clit. Embarrassment flushes straight up my chest. He couldn’t see me, couldn’t hear anything, there was no way, surely?
“Briar?” That deep, familiar voice is closer now. Too close. He’s inside the bathroom, and I see the faint shadowy outline of his presence on the other side of this flimsy shower curtain.
“Umm. Yep. Just needed a quick shower.” I stammer out. As my hand drags up over my hip, I wince, realizing the slick trail of my arousal coating my fingers has left a residue behind.
“Are you sure you’re ok in there?”
Something akin to a strangled noise comes out of me instead of words.
That, unfortunately, draws him closer. I’m nearly convulsing with embarrassment and panic.
“Do you need some help in there, darlin’?” His voice is raspy with sleep and doing that deep, sensuous thing that tempts me to fling this curtain aside and launch at him.
“Need a hand?” He’s so close I see the shadow of his hand when he yawns and reaches up to thread roughly through his hair.
Oh my fucking god. I want to dissolve down this drain right this second.
“No—No, I’m fine.” Stammering, I can only hope to all things holy that the pounding shower spray on the base of the tub disguises my strained tone.
“You hungry?” Even over the drumming water and hammering of my pulse, a heavy rasp of sleep coats his voice, and my mind immediately wanders to illicit places. I’m making everythingso goddamn sexual, and I need him to go the fuck away so I can get myself off. I need to successfully get rid of this tornado of lust flying around, trapped beneath my skin, and him standing over me in the bathroom is not helping any of this highly inappropriate confusion I’ve been experiencing.
“Thanks, some breakfast would be great.” Do I sound like I’m falling apart in here? Because I’m about one second away from combusting.
He doesn’t answer for what feels like an eternity. “Ok.” Then, his footsteps retreat.
Relief interlocks with a torrential downpour of self-judgment as my fingers seek out my clit. This time it’s desperate, hard, fast circles when I reach out for that precipice I had been so close to before.
Sparks begin to creep up from my toes. God, all I can see behind my eyelids as they fall shut again and my head drops forward ishim.
I try my hardest to picture someone, anyone else. But I’m evidently a slut for the man only a few feet away.
I shouldn’t picture him like this, but he invades my lust-soaked brain.
His strong arms.
Tattoos filling my vision, when he snakes his hold around me from behind.
It’s his rough hands seeking out my breasts, my stomach. His hard planes of muscle cover my back, and that sensation of his arousal digs into my spine.
The rumbling sound of pleasure fills my ears as he feels just how slick and slippery I am. How swollen my clit is, just for him.
Deftly nudging my hand out of the way, he takes over.
Let me take care of you,darlin’.Let me show you what you need.
Holy shit, my body ignites.
There’s a ringing in my ears, and my knees almost buckle as the wave crashes immediately. Driving fast and hard through meas soon as I picture the man who I shouldn’t be thinking aboutat alltouching me.
With fumbling hands and my heart galloping like the wind, I turn the water off—because I’ve definitely been in this shower too long—feeling the intense sting of disappointment as silence envelops me.
The man I can’t bring myself to stop craving, who is just down the hall, is one I cannot ever have.
