Page 36 of Like a Hurricane

“Fine,” She snaps, “But can we hurry it up, I’m getting frost bite on my nose.”

Laughing, “You’ll be fine for another five minutes.” I tell her as I leave her hanging from the window and go search for the scissors.

Chapter Seventeen

So, this wasn’t my smartest idea. To be fair, I did think I’d be able to shimmy my way through the gap, though I hadn’t entirely thought the plan through. My hips wouldn’t fit but I would have been able to free myself if I hadn’t got the sweats caught on whatever it was beneath me.

And I knew Everett was reveling in this.

His chuckle was still ringing in my head. And I hated that I liked the sound of his laugh. It was so damn hard to stay angry at him. I put on a great show but fuck, the man had more charm than I knew what to do with. I was usually a woman immune to such things, yet here I fucking was, melting a little at the way that chuckle had sent goose bumps chasing down my spine.

I could blame the cold biting at my face, but I knew it wasn’t that.

I hated that I reacted to him.

I could pretend all I fucking wanted, but physically there was no denying what he did to me. Even trapped in this damn window I reacted to the feel of his hand on my leg, running so softly up the back of my thigh but he stopped a few inches from my center and then he’d run it back down and done it again. It lasted barely a few seconds, but I could still feel the burn of his touch like it was a brand on my skin.

Cabin fever. It had to be.

I hear him return, his cheery whistle echoing in the bathroom. “Stay still, princess,” He tells me, “I don’t want to cut your pretty skin.”

I hold still as I feel him pull at the cuff at the bottom and then I feel the cold slide of metal as the backside of the scissors moves up my leg. He makes quick work on one side, cutting it all the way up to the waistband before he moves to the other side.

If I wasn’t so focused on where his fingers brush the bare skin of my legs, I would be mortified that I was about to be bare assed and sticking out a window.

“Almost there,” He whispers.

I focus on the scissors until he cuts the final section, and the material falls away. I wasn’t wearing underwear.

“Fuck,” I hear him grumble.

I start to move, my cheeks flaming hot despite the cold, but he quickly stops me, “Watch yourself on that metal.”

He helps guide me out and once I am free and upright, his sweatshirt falls down over me, stopping around midthigh to cover me back up. He brings my back to his chest as he leans around me to pull the window closed, shutting out the cold.

My eyes fall closed when his lips brush the shell of my ear, “Am I so bad you’d risk the weather to escape me?”

Skilled hands brush the hair away from the side of my face, so much tender in comparison to the way he gripped and pulled it earlier, hard enough that there was a delicious bite of pain on my scalp that had done things to me I didn’t know was possible.

It was so strange to be aroused by the sudden lack of control around him, as a woman who liked control on all things, it confused me. Perhaps that was why I was fighting him so hard.

I knew I needed to stay here even if I didn’t want to, but the logical side of my brain and the stubborn, combative side were warring. I didn’t want to die. The fear and the grief didn’t help, putting me in a constant state of agitation.

“I feel trapped.” I admit.

The tips of his fingers run up the side of my thigh, stopping at the hem of the sweater.

“Keep talking, princess, what else?” He whispers.

“I’m scared.”

He runs his nose up the underside of my ear, “And?”

“I’m incredibly sad.” My voice catches on the word.

Where the fuck was this vulnerability coming from? Why was I letting him see this?

I choke it down, swallowing the lump building in my throat. He opens his mouth to talk, and I could already guess what he was going to say but I didn’t want to do that, so I spin around.

---