Page 131 of Truck Stop Tempest

I hugged him from behind, curling my arms around his warm skin. He sighed, grabbed my hands, and squeezed them to his chest.

“Everything okay?” I pressed my lips to his skin.

“Perfect.”

I lifted my face and traced the edges of his fresh ink. The outline covered his right shoulder blade, and when finished, would become a depiction of a mighty storm,whereamidst the backdrop of black clouds, lightning strikes and blowing trees, a woman with seductive curves and flowing hair danced in a field, arms stretched to the sky, as if commanding the tempest. And if you looked closely, you’d see a beast with red eyes and jagged teeth hid in the shelter of trees, watching, waiting, enthralled by the tiny dancer.

“Thank you for this.” I kissed the skin just below his artwork. His muscles coiled.

I shook my hands free of his grip and slid my fingers down his stomach, attending to each dip and curve of his tight abs. I moved lower still, through his patch of hair, to his arousal. He stiffened when I curled my fingers around the hot flesh, moaned when I stroked, once, twice.

“Fuck, baby.” He grunted, hips flexing into my hand, the husk of his voice igniting elicit thrills.

“Thank you for loving me,” I whispered into his back, working my palm up and down his length.

His breath hitched, head falling back on his shoulders, hand falling to his waist to cover mine, halting me mid-rub. “Tuuli. Shit, stop.”

My body ached, heat swelling between my thighs. “I need you, Tito. I ache for you, everywhere.”

“I know, Bunny. I feel it too,” he rasped, guttural and desperate. “I bleed for you with every beat of my black heart.”

His words coated my soul like warm maple syrup, sticky sweet and so satisfying. “Make love to me.”

“You don’t know how desperately I need that right now.” He turned in my arms and cupped my face, fingers trembling, staring long and hard, searching for something. Words, or courage, or maybe both. “Marry me first.”

My world stopped spinning. “What?”

“If I’m going to be the man sitting next to you every Sunday in that damn church, let me sit next to you as your husband. Let me be worthy of this body. Let me be yours forever.”

Husband? Worthy? Didn’t he know? I was unworthy. He was the prize in this relationship. “You are my forever.” I gripped his wrists. His pulse thumped beneath my fingertips, a heavy, determined beat.

“Let’s make it official.”

“I’m too young,” seemed the correct response, though the words sounded hollow.

“Too young. Too sweet. Too pure. We don’t make sense. We shouldn’t be here. But we are. Call it fate, divine intervention, whatever the fuck you want, but we’re here. You’re the only future I see. Let me make an honest woman of you.”

I trembled, despite the heat between us. “Tito. It’s too soon,” I argued, again with the knee-jerk response.

He huffed, arms falling to his sides. “It’s okay. We have the rest of our lives. I’ll wait forever.” With a sad smile, he scrubbed a hand over his head, then fisted his hair. “But know this. I won’t enter that beautiful body again until you’re my wife.”

Oh. Sweet. Baby. Jesus.

“But we’ve already done everything,” I huffed, frustrated. “What would be the point in refraining now?”

“Never too late to make things right.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because you deserve nothing less.” He left me standing speechless at the sink, and stepped behind the glass enclosure, his body disappearing behind a thick plume of steam.

He didn’t want to be the demon who defiled the church girl. He wanted to be my forever in every way.

I twisted to see my reflection in the mirror. My tattoo, a beautiful stretch of wildflowers in my favorite muted spring colors, covered my shoulder blade and stretched across my back, delicate, feminine, and free.

I was young. I needed to find my own path. My own way. I needed to rise and fall, break and heal on my own. Become the best me I could be before sharing my life with someone. Right?

I had no doubt Tito would be patient. I had no doubt there were many storms in our future. What I knew, what he’d proven time and time again, was that Tito wouldn’t carry me through those trials, he wouldn’t come to my rescue. He would slap my ass, shout encouragements in my ear, and stand behind me until I conquered every lightning strike, tamed every gale force wind, and rose above every pounding pellet of rain. And no matter the devastation left in the wake of my storms, he would stand by my side and help me rebuild.

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