Page 16 of Cold Snap
“Because this is what I sleep in when I’m at my brother’s house, you big ass!”
Anger hits me hard. “You…left…your fucking brother’s house…in your fucking nightclothes?” I start taking a better look at what she’s wearing. I’ve been so busy watching her ass I never even bothered to realize she’s got a thin as fuck tank on that leaves no room for her to wear a fucking bra under it!
“Calm down, psycho! It’s not a fucking sexy piece of lingerie or a nightie! It’s fucking shorts for fuck’s sakes!”
Does she really not know?!
I have her up, half walking, half dragging her over to the closest mirror which happens to be in my bathroom. I hold her up so more of her is showing.
“You can see your nipples through your fucking shirt! And if you pull these fucking shorts up just a little more, I can see the outline of your fucking pussy through them.” Her mouth falls open at my words -or maybe the fact I’m looking at all the places we’re talking about. “You think it’s okay to walk down a street with your tits barely contained and this pussy nearly falling out? You think a man wouldn’t kill someone to get this? You think I wouldn’t kill someone if they saw you like this! I almost beat the shit out of Aarons for touching you that night, and you think I would let him live if he looked at you like this.”
“Why?” Her eyes fill with tears. “Why would it matter to you who saw me like this? Is it because you think you need to help my brother keep me safe? Help my dad protect me? Why does it matter to you what I wear or who looks at me?”
I sit her down, and she turns to me, her arms still behind her back, handcuffed. She’s temptation incarnate, and my self-control has been worn thin already. I can’t even start to tell herwhy it matters so much to me. Not when the swell of her breasts is so fucking close.
“Are you trying to keep me…innocent and pure? How do you know I haven’t been with tons of men already and there’s no need to keep me…locked away?”
I step closer to her, causing her to back up, but there’s nowhere for her to go. I come closer until I cage her in between my arms and the wall. There’s nothing to keep me from reaching up and touching her face where that asshole Aarons touched her.
“Sweetheart, you have no idea…yeah, you could have had dozens of lovers, but I would still threaten to kill someone who touches you because you have no idea how sexy you are, how fucking much you entice men.” She opens her mouth, but I keep talking, “It’s not your fucking clothes or what you wear. It’s that body of yours. This little body that screams to men to come take it. Soft and sweet and welcoming, men see you and they want your body, they want that softness, that pretty little pussy you keep tucked away. I’m keeping this body safe, but more importantly…what this little body harbors.”
I place my hand between her unbound breasts and search for the thumping of her heart. My hand is so wide, so much bigger than her, that it pretty much covers her whole chest. She takes a deep breath, and my eyes are drawn to the hard points just under her thin tank. Pretty little pebbles that tempt me to slide my pinky over just slightly.
“And sweetheart,” I bring my eyes back to hers, “if you’re going to pretend you’ve been with other men…you shouldn’t have kissed me.”
My mouth lands on hers in a hard kiss. At first, she melts for me, opening her mouth and inviting me in. Our tongues meet and play, but then she tries to pull away from me, turning her head away from me.
“Stop.”
I pull back to stare down at her.
“We shouldn’t be doing this, Land.” Her chest rises and falls with each breath, my hand still firmly in the middle of her little body. “I…I understand why you don’t want to…why you...”
I stop what she is going to say by placing my mouth back on hers.
Chapter Twelve
Teresa
Ifight the feelings that well up inside of me. I have to keep thinking straight and remember why this is not a good thing. I have to…not give in to him and the things he makes me feel. Remember what it feels like to be turned away, shut out, because that is where this is going. Any moment now, he’s going to push me away and tell me he can’t be with me, that we shouldn’t fuck around with one another.
Right now, he’s just mad at me for deceiving him. That’s all this is. Just anger. Once he gets over it, he’ll tell me we can’t be together, and he shouldn’t have kissed me. Again. All I have to do is keep that in mind, and I should be able to fight this…and him.
But, oh, his lips feel good. And when he’s brushing them softly against mine, he gets me all fuzzy-headed. Fuck they are soft. How does a man have such soft, pillowy lips? I could totally become lost in them and the taste of him. Or the scent. God, he smells fucking great.
My hands are unexpectedly free -he must have uncuffed me at some point during the kiss- and somehow those traitorous bitches find their way around his neck. Not that I’m forgetting to keep my space from him. In fact, I’m going to show him exactly what he turned down! That’ll show the bastard!
And it will especially show him when I start kissing him back, using my tongue to explore his mouth. Moaning will definitely prove my point. Whatever my point is.
I give up lying to myself and focus on feeling as I press my body up against his. He’s so firm where I’m soft, so big where I am…not. I can barely reach his lips, and only because he’s leaning forward for me. Until it becomes easier to reach suddenly…because he’s lifted me up, trapping me between his big body and the wall. And the only reason I wrap my legs around him is because I don’t want to fall.
I put my hands on his cheeks and delight in the stubble that brushes against my skin. I love men who can rock stubble like Land can. I love how it makes them look a little like a bad boy who doesn’t care what people think of them. I love…Land!
The thought has me pulling away from him so I can look in his beautiful green eyes. Eyes that I have dreamed about so many nights when I close my eyes are now looking back at me. We're teetering on the brink of something big, but I don’t have a clue where it’s going to lead. I don’t know what’s ahead.
“Teresa,” he says it softly, but it might as well have been a scream. I brace myself for the cruel words I expect him to say to me. “Why did you lie to me?”
Is this still him being mad at me? Still trying to ferret out the truth?
