Page 52 of Truck Stop Tempest

HARD TO SAY WHEN I turned the corner. Could’ve been the second I believed Tuuli was missing. Or when I found her driver’s license inside the trailer bloodbath, or maybe it was the moment she broke down in Jonas’s wrecked truck and beat the ever-loving shit out of me.

Most likely, I had gone soft the moment she outed her father as an abuser. No doubt, the past nights I had spent holding her in my arms and helping her breathe through the aftershocks of her nightmares had something to do with my change of heart.

Hell. Could’ve been the bravery she showed two days ago when she’d called Tango, Slade, Tucker, and Aida over to my place and stood before them, profusely apologetic, confessing everything about her family and her reason for coming to work at The Stop. Or the next morning, the way she bit her quivering lip to hold tears at bay until after she’d given her statement to Officer Caldwell about the murders.

The catalyst to my revelation wasn’t as important as the fact that somehow, at some point, for whatever reason, I had turned a corner. Fuck me and my lone soldier, live for me, die for me bullshit. I wanted to be the guy Tuuli saved herself for.

No other man would lay hands on her. Not while I was living and breathing.

I headed to the kitchen, barefoot and bare-chested, still wet from my shower, and sated for the time being because, yes, I’d jerked off again.

Tuuli stood at the counter. I slowed my approach, appreciating the scene, palms sweaty, throat dry as sandpaper, ticker pounding an atomic countdown in my chest.

Tuuli flipped through the morning paper, left heel bouncing erratically over the top of her right foot. The shirt she wore, although five sizes too large, rode up the back of her thighs, revealing too much naked real estate. I knew there was nothing under that lucky shirt of mine. Her only bra was hanging on my towel rack, and I’d thrown away her only pair of panties the night of her attack. She hadn’t asked to borrow any of my boxers. So, I knew, if I lifted the hem of that shirt, I’d find nothing but sweet, smooth, creamy skin.

I could’ve stood for hours, watching her read, watching her fidget and wiggle. I was a mindless, feral dog, panting over the piece of tail wagging in my face.

I could’ve watched forever. Instead, I dragged my ass to the fridge, popped the lid off the OJ, and chugged.

“When do you move into your new place?” she asked my back.

Sweet Jesus, that voice. I took another swig to lubricate my vocal cords before turning around to answer. “We close next week.”

“Oh,” she mumbled, chewing on her bottom lip. Tuuli looked down at the shirt she wore and smoothed her hand over her torso. “I need clothes, so I can get out of your hair.”

That constant low rumble in my chest rolled into a full-blown earthquake. She couldn’t leave. “You’ve got nowhere to go.”

“I’ll figure something out.”

Didn’t she get it? I would not lose her again. I scratched the top of my head, then fisted my hair to keep from screaming. Breathe in. One, two, three. Out. One, two, three. “I’ve figured it out for you. Stay here.”

“What? No. That’s not a good idea, Tito. I’ve imposed too much already. I need to find a job. A place to live…” she rambled on about her clothes that had been left behind in Jonas’s trailer and affordable apartments on the wrong side of town.

The more she talked about leaving, the larger the dent in my chest grew. I hadn’t touched her in the ten days she’d been with me, except to quiet her demons, but for the time being I needed to quiet mine. I decimated the space between us and claimed her mouth, holding her tight, absorbing her trembles, her heat, the press of her soft tits against my chest.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Couldn’t she see we needed each other?

Tuuli didn’t fight like I’d expected, and damn, her compliance drove me insane. I held her boneless body, kissing, smelling, tasting, just fucking connecting. I bent low, cupping her ass, and hoisted her onto the counter. When her legs cinched around my waist, a moan escaped my lips.

There was no going back. I wanted her. I wanted the connection. The buzz, the high, the fear, the ache, the uncertainty, the promise of things to come. I needed to keep her close. Needed to protect her from all the shit the world spewed. Needed to feed off the good she made me feel.

Tuuli broke the kiss, pulling away with parted lips and lowered lids. Breathless, she whispered, “I can’t stay here, Tito. Not after everything—”

“Don’t leave.” I fisted the hair at her nape and pressed my forehead to hers. God, I wanted to crawl inside her skin. “I can’t let you go.”

She jerked back like she’d been slapped. I captured her lips again, then mumbled into her mouth, “I’m fuckin’ keeping you.”

“But—”

“I can’t stand the thought of another man touching you. When you’re ready, let it be me. Please, let me be the only one.”

She grabbed my shoulders and pushed, holding me at arms’ length, glassy eyes aimed at my chest.

I tapped her chin. “Eyes up here.”

She didn’t lift them. I didn’t push. I was throwing enough at her already.

I heard the gears grinding in her pretty little head. She wanted to speak. She wanted to argue. Plead her case.

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