Page 11 of Snowed in with the Brutes
I glance at the antique clock on the wall.One hour.How am I going to let them touch me?I’ll never be the same again.Ever.For as long as I live.
A painful jolt stabs me in the ribs.I can’t.I can’t.I can’t.From the first moment I set my eyes on them, leaving the Anderson ranch on a random Tuesday afternoon, larger than life and unbelievably mesmerizing against the backdrop of a slowly setting sun, I haven’t been able to remove them from my thoughts.But that’s where they should have stayed—in my thoughts.They were never meant to come to life.
I jump from the bed and glance out the window.No, I need to escape.But hope drains from me.I can barely see anything outside; the storm is now raging with frenzied hunger.
I'll be dead within an hour if I don't fall off the mountain first or get mauled by bears.
I wring my hands together and force myself to get a grip.
Whatever they do to me here, I won't be taking it with me to the outside world.Everything will remain here, forgotten and never thought of again.
Making it out of here is my only priority.Nothing else matters.My mind is stronger than my body, but as I sit here, surrounded by sheer luxury, expecting a single older man and instead finding three dangerous apex predators turning my world upside down, I can't seem to separate my head from my body.
I'm acutely aware of the ache in my nipples, the wetness soaking my cotton panties, and the way my heart starts to thud in my chest simply because they’re near enough that their presence blankets my entire existence.
Why is it that after just five minutes in their company, their scent—rich and expensive—has saturated my skin and will forever taint my blood?
This is stupid.They're my enemies.But after three days, it’s over, and I finally get to live the life I was meant to live.My dad will finally be safe again.
I have no idea how the time slipped away, but now there are only thirty-five minutes left.Determined to get this over with, I head to the shower, deliberately ignoring the level of opulence surrounding me as I scrub every inch of my body.
I make full use of the high-end products provided.Before long, the entire bathroom and bedroom are tinged with the fragrance of shower gel, shampoo, oils, and moisturizers.I put on a thick robe to keep warm before I dry my hair with the blow dryer, then twist my tresses into a bun at the nape of my neck.
I refuse to wear any makeup.Maybe if I'm lucky, they'll find me generally unappealing in a different light and send me back to this room to wait out the raging storm before I can go home.
I remove the robe, take a deep breath, and slip the dress over my naked body.It's only then I realize the heat has been turned up.Thank goodness.I’m comfortably warm even in the flimsiest dress imaginable, while outside the temperature has dropped well below freezing.
Steeling myself with a deep, fortifying breath, I step out of the room with a minute to spare.The last thing I want is to pass out from a lack of oxygen in front of them.
I need to remain vigilant.But nothing can stop the tremble in my legs as I enter the dining room.I hadn’t noticed before, but there’s an entrance into the kitchen from the dining room, and Flinn, with a kitchen towel over his shoulder, stands confidently in front of the stove.I miss an entire breath as he slowly wipes his hands on the towel and his eyes glide over me, top to bottom, making me burn.
Kian is seated on a chair that looks like a throne; his right foot rests on his left knee, and his frame is so big he seems to fill the whole room.The orange light from the fire highlights the hard set of his jaw and the coldness in his eyes.He doesn’t bother looking at me.I’m grateful for that since I’m 90% naked.
But near where Kian sits is a ghost of something of my past.An antique piano, its black lacquered surface gleaming like a lighthouse in the sea, beckoning to me.The craftsmanship is so fine, the curves and symmetry so perfect.My fingers buzz with the need to touch it but it’s a call I can’t answer.I have other things to think about.
Sinclair regards me with his usual intensity of a man who gets what he wants.His tall body moves with a casual yet deadly grace as his eyes darken, slipping down my body.
My entire system glitches, and I’m rooted to the spot at the entrance of the dining room.
Self-consciously, I cover my arms over my breasts and press my thighs together tightly, hoping to conceal the outline of my most intimate parts from their view.
Yes, I’ve lived an incredibly sheltered life.I haven’t traveled outside of New York.I don’t socialize; I don’t even have real friends.But I’m certain that even if I traveled the entire world, no other men would captivate me the way they do.The sight of them attacks every neural pathway inside me.They’re scarily formidable and yet also the most handsome men I’ve ever seen in my entire life.
But two things can be true at the same time.They can be undeniably good-looking and my most feared enemies simultaneously.I need to make that distinction clear in my mind so I can move forward.
There's nothing I can do but play this out.What I don’t have to do is play nice.
“Ms.Anderson,” Sinclair says, pulling out a chair for me.
“Please call me Cora,” I reply as I walk toward him and take the seat he offered.I’m not being polite; I just hate the name Anderson.
“Cora,” Sinclair says softly, his breath whispering against my neck, and the ache in my nipples quadruples.I turn blood red.The dress is so unbelievably see-through that my nipples strain against the tissue-like material.
I gasp aloud as Sinclair slides his large, calloused hand over my shoulder; his fingers slip into the fabric of the dress and push it aside, revealing my right breast.
