Page 11 of Should I Fall
“Weather’s rolling in,” Dash says, nodding out the west window. “Heavy rains. Possible severe thunderstorms could pop up. Chopper can’t make it back until tomorrow when it clears.”
“That’s…inconvenient.” I flash him a devilish smile, but his hardened expression only deepens. Wait. What the hell?
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—wecan’t—this was a mistake.”
“A mistake?” I repeat, my tone a challenge.
“It’s not going to happen again, so put your clothes back on.” With that stumbled but cold declaration, he rushes out the door, leaving me not just confused but also really irritated that I’m stuck here overnight with the grumpy mountain man and the building humiliation I feel.
Just fucking great.
Chapter Six
Dash
What the actual fuck was I thinking?
I shouldn’t have kissed Stormi.
I sure as hell shouldn’t have tackled her onto the bed and started living out one of my many growing fantasies about her in real time. She’s not just some woman in a bar who’s only looking for a one-night stand. She’s an incredibly rare gem, and I won’t fucking tarnish her shine by giving into my base desires.
I know fucking better than this. The last time I acted on impulse, it cost me everything. I swore I’d never go down this road again. Not for a woman. Not for anyone.
“Fucking Brutus,” I grumble, hurrying down the stairs.
The spike of adrenaline had me blind to reason, but not anymore.
If I’m going to be stuck with Stormi until morning, I’m keeping my fucking head on straight and hands off of her.
My dick throbs, as though arguing with me.
Guess I’ll have to wait one more night to jack off.
Unless you let Stormi drain your cock down the back of her throat.
I groan, wishing like hell I could escape this tower that will no doubt be my prison for the next several hours. But with a storm on the horizon, I have to keep watch.
After thoroughly scanning the ground level area for any signs of Brutus, I collect the firewood I tossed aside earlier. Scattered raindrops fall more steadily, and gentle thunder rolls closer than is comforting. If the storm wasn’t on my fucking doorstep, I’d take a few beats to get my wits about me.
When I return upstairs, Stormi has pulled down the map from where I can keep it stored and is studying it. The offending yellow jacket is back on, and she’s hugging herself tight. Blaze sits at her feet, looking back over his shoulder at me with what I can only describe as a glare pointed at me.
Great. My dog likes her better than me.
“Looking for something in particular?” I ask, attending to the wood stove.
“My escape route.”
I snap my head toward her, but her back’s facing me. Her irritation is understandable, but I’m not going back on what I said. What happened earlier was a mistake, and if I be anything but an asshole about that, I’ll cave quicker than lightning can strike.
Instead, I switch to my Tour Guide Dash mode and put her to work. “Can you do me a favor and watch for lightning strikes so I can get the stove lit?”
“You want me to watch for fires?”
“Just for a few minutes, so I can get the stove going. Blaze is shivering.”
She doesn’t say anything, but she sits back on the edge of my bed, scanning the three-sixty perimeter as my traitorous dogcurls up beside her. He’s going to be heartbroken when that chopper shows up tomorrow.
Me too, buddy.
