Текст книги "Shut In"

Автор книги: Cee Smith

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Chapter Two

“Knock, knock,” his voice rang through the partially closed door. I appreciated that he didn’t start immediately treating this place like it was his home just because we were forced into this situation together. Although, he didn’t really strike me as someone that was that respectful, but what did I know? It was my first one-night stand after all. I had no idea what was standard protocol, except I was sure that most one-night stands didn’t accidentally turn into a staycation due to natural disasters.

“You may come in,” I said so softly I was unsure if the sound of my voice reached him, even beneath the half-inch gap under the door.

I sat at the edge of the bed, one foot tipping toward the floor while the other foot rested comfortably beneath my butt. The covers were cradled against my back. The same covers I remembered tussling last night in our melee.

Once again, he strode into the room comfortably, taking a seat next to me—his long legs allowing his feet to come to a stiff rest against the beige tiled floors.

“I’ll start first. Hi, my name is Joel.” He turned and pushed his hand toward me, and all I could think about were those hands—how they brandished my skin, how they brought me to the peak before tossing me into the abyss. Their size, his touch, that mouth. I turned away, flushed by my turning thoughts. Can he read my face? Can he see what I am thinking about? Does he know how affected I am by him? How am I going to be able to spend more than a day with a man like him? Maybe Kerri was right and I got in too deep thinking I could take on a man like him. It wasn’t like I propositioned him though; he was the one who sought me out.

“Is it safe to assume your memories are returning?”

I whipped my head back, and he held a smug grin as if this was all so amusing for him.

“There’s no reason to be shy,” he said, pulling a long lock of my tawny hair between his thick fingers. “We’re both adults here, pretty bird, and last night doesn’t have to be a one time thing. It’s not like we’re going anywhere.”

I slid my hands over the waterfall of hair that was dripping through his fingers. Yanking my hand down, the hair escaped his fingers and fell back against my shoulders. My hand fell into his, and I moved to shake his hand while introducing myself. His hand was surprisingly warm, and I tried to ignore how his hand could encapsulate mine from every angle. They were that huge, but they were also soft and comforting, in a way that made me feel self-conscious and uncomfortable. I just didn’t know if it was from the fact that I was now stuck there with that man, Joel, or if it was because of all the things I was sure his hands had done to me the night before but couldn’t remember.

“My name is Blaire, and last night won’t be happening again. Actually, it would be beneficial if we come up with some ground rules for the foreseeable future, however long that may be.” I ended my sentence on more of a grumble, still disbelieving my luck would be so bad that I would be the one person to be stuck with a one-night stand. This was the stuff of some made-for-TV special—this was no romantic comedy, though. This was real life, and I was really stuck with him.

Within a matter of minutes our hands had moved from shaking to holding, as I worked through what the next few weeks would look like. His thumb worked over the back of my hand, rubbing small circles that calmed me to the point that I could melt into the sheets beneath where I sat.

I tugged my hand from his. Rules. We need rules. I couldn’t allow myself to get comfortable with him. That wasn’t part of my plan. He was supposed to be a one-and-done. I had no room in my life for anything more, and I could see how being with him for more than a day could have a girl questioning all of her priorities, but I was dedicated. I had goals.

Folding both my hands in my lap, I worked through a quick rundown of rules that would definitely need to be established up front.

“Okay, rules. Lay it on me.”

“You’re a big guy, so…”

“I’m glad you noticed,” he said, looking across his still exposed flesh, which was barely covered by a few scraps of fabric that bundled tightly against his crown jewels. Enough to show that something about my statement had left him excited. My eyes pulled back up to his, and he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

I should have realized then what trouble he would be, but instead I urged on about rules, sure that limiters would calm his libido and my mind’s inquisition into what happened once the clothes came off the night before.

“Ah, first, we should have this conversation with both of us fully clothed.”

“I don’t know. If I’m only going to have these clothes to wear for however long, I don’t think I want to be wearing them every day, all day long.”

“Stop making excuses to hang around here in the nude. That won’t be happening here. So you can save whatever story you have about being raised in some nudist colony and freedoms to wear your skin shit.”

I hopped up from the bed, avoiding contact with him as I moved about the room looking for my shirt that was shed in haste last night. He at least acted like he was looking for his clothes as well, but didn’t seem as eager to find them as I was.

“I’m not some hippy from a nudist colony, but I am comfortable…‘wearing my skin’—is that what you said? Yeah, whatever. Do you have any clothes that might seem more partial to a man like me?”

I found the remainder of his clothes kicked under the side of the bed he slept on. I threw the bundle on the bed, watching as he picked each garment up and righted it before slipping them on.

“You’re staring,” he said with a grin. I turned toward the door, trying to block out all thoughts of his bulging muscles, the trail of hair that drew my eye to what his briefs were hiding, and the hint of his erection.

“My brother visits sometimes. I might have some of his things. Although, he isn’t nearly as big as you, so some of the stuff might not fit.”

“It doesn’t look like I have the option of being picky at this point.”

“I’ll be right back,” I said, exiting the room.

To the left of the bedroom and down the hall was the garage. My brother, Kyle, usually kept a spare bag for when he would stroll into town. It’d been a while since he’d come to visit, but I was sure the bag was still there waiting for him.

The cacophony of the storm was loudest in the garage where echoes of howling winds, shuffling sand, and rocks pinged off the aluminum door. I worried about what my neighborhood would look like when it was all over. Vegas had serious flooding issues, so we were used to rocks and debris filling the roads, but I feared this would be total devastation by the time we were finally able to leave our houses.

I stretched up on my tippy toes to reach the top of the shelving unit on the right side of the garage. The door to the house opened behind me, stopping my movement before I could grab the bag. My house looked small as Joel strolled through the doorway, turning slightly to ensure he didn’t hit the door jam on his way through.

“Can I get that?” I didn’t have a chance to answer him before he was pressed against me, reaching for the bag. His body was warm against mine, and I half expected him to smell like liquor and stale smoke, but was pleasantly surprised by the lingering smell of his cologne or aftershave. Whatever it was had a cinnamon smell, like scented pinecones and freshly baked pie, reminding me of fall. It was a spicy scent that tickled my nose and made me want to curl up close to him.

“Thanks.”

He placed the bag down and I opened it, pulling out the few sets of clothes, socks, and underwear that were folded nicely in the confines of the bag. I watched Joel take each item handed to him, pulling the tags into view. He showed no sign of whether or not the clothes would work before holding them up against his large frame. I must admit, just seeing the shirts held up against his chest, I knew they were one size too small, but they would show off those slick abs and concrete arms. I sucked in my bottom lip, careful to make sure I wasn’t drooling at the thought.

“These shirts are the equivalent of you walking around in a bra. You sure you don’t want me naked?” I flashed him a look that let him know how I felt about that and he shrugged. “It was worth a try.”

“The pants will probably be too short, but you could roll them up. Guys are doing that these days, aren’t they?”

“Sure, hipsters are. It’s not really my scene, but I can make do. Besides who else is going to see me, other than you? Can I just say, had we decided to just go to my place, this wouldn’t be a problem. Girls always look cute in guy clothes. All you would have had to do is throw on a tee of mine and you would have been covered. Boom. Different shirt every day would have taken care of you.”

“Well I’m not a twelve-year-old girl at a slumber party, so the tee shirt thing would work for me as much as rolled chinos works for you. Actually, it would do less for me. Either way, this is what we got.”

If the shirts were too tight I could only imagine what the underwear would look like, gripping those thighs and that sculpted ass. Or, would he just go commando? I chastised myself internally while leading him back in the living room where we could have a proper talk about what the rules should be for the next couple weeks. I think I was curious to see if he would have any rules that he would need to add to the list. My desire to get to know him a little better didn’t go unnoticed.

“As I said before,” I started, settling into the corner of the couch, waiting for him to take a seat on the other side. He sat close enough for our knees to touch, and I tried not to become distracted by the way our skin continuously brushed as he got comfortable. “With your size, I don’t think it would be fair for me to just take the bed, so I don’t mind switching days sleeping on the couch.”

“I don’t understand. Your bed was big enough for the both of us last night.” He looked genuinely perplexed by my statement, as if there wasn’t a thought in his mind that we would spend the next two weeks sleeping in the same bed together.

“That was last night. We’re talking about from here on out. I think we should create some boundaries, one of those being that we shouldn’t be sleeping in the same bed at the same time. It confuses things.”

“It’s not confusing me, pretty bird.”

I ignored his comment and pressed on, “I also have a large supply of bottled water and canned/packaged goods, which we should go over rationing later.”

“Do you have any pet-peeves I should know about? You obviously have an aversion to nudity. Anything else?”

“None I can really think of. Though I think we should try to take some time away from each other, so we don’t get cabin fever.”

“Okay, sure. Do you have a spare toothbrush?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“I should have asked earlier, but you’re not married or anything, right? There isn’t going to be some dude fighting through the storm to make it back to you, to find that you’re shacked up with me, is there?”

“No, I’m—I’m single.”

“Good. Same here.” I appreciated that he didn’t make me ask because I was almost too afraid of the answer. If a man like him was single, it was only because he chose to be. Was last night his typical night? Does he troll for drunk, vulnerable women to seduce into sleeping with him? Not that he needed his women drunk, but now that I was there stuck with him, I couldn’t help but think about the kind of man stuck there with me. It’s easy when all they have to do is pick up their clothes and leave. There’s nothing messy about it; just follow the typical protocol of creeping to the door quietly, and there are no questions to be answered, no awkward goodbyes.

“Look, this is your house and I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, so if there’s anything I could do to make this easier, just let me know. If that’s settled, I think we should look at how long we can actually stay cooped up in here with what’s available.”

“Okay, thankfully I just went grocery shopping yesterday, so the food should last us a bit. I’ll show you what I’ve got.”

We both got up from the couch, and he followed me through the dining room and into the kitchen. On the left, granite countertops formed a U shape following the perimeter of the walls. I’m not the cleanliest of people, but I can honestly say that my kitchen doesn’t reflect that. The fridge, microwave, and stove are stark white against the beige walls and tan-colored granite. The floors and cabinets are also white, which helps give it the “clean” look.

“Here is what I have in the fridge,” I said, opening the door and stepping to my left so he could look for himself. The kitchen was small, allowing me little space to open the fridge without hitting the cabinets. He moved in closer, and though he was touching the cabinets to the right, his body brushed against mine, making me think of the first time he touched me in the club.

That was the thing that struck me about Joel; never once had he taken into account his proximity to me. He hadn’t so much as second-guessed the way he touched me. Is this how he typically is with women, with people in general? Or is it just women he has or wants to have sex with? The thought of him sinking into me quickly evaporated when he started picking up the carton of eggs and looking at the dates on items.

If I didn’t just go shopping, I would feel a bit uneasy about him sifting through my fridge. I was usually so busy that there were some weeks I went without shopping and chose to order takeout to save myself the time it would take to shop and cook. Cooking for one felt pointless most nights, especially after twelve hours spent at the office.

“Do you bake?”

“I can get by, why?”

“The storm may cut power, and if that happens, we need to have food that doesn’t need to be heated up in an oven. I suggest we get baking.” He opened up the freezer, pulling out the bags of frozen vegetables and various meats I had inside.

“Do you have a pantry?”

“Yes, it’s just over here.” I walked to the opposite side of the room, swinging open the double doors. Rows of shelves ran from the ceiling to floor on two walls; the third had shelves running halfway down the wall, stopping above the washer and dryer. I flicked on the light and exited the small room, expecting he was going to attempt to stuff himself in there with me, and there was no way there was enough room for the both of us. He waited until I stepped out to enter, and looked around before he picked up the five-pound bags of flour and sugar. He balanced them in his palms, weighing how much was left in the bags before placing them back on the shelf. Like the fridge, the pantry was pretty well stocked with canned and packaged food and unopened snacks.

“You think you got enough condiments in here?”

He turned off the light and stepped out with a sarcastic look on his face. I ignored his comment, crossing my arms across my chest as if waiting for his next assessment of our supply. His eyes licked across every part of my skin. A blaze of rampant desire coursed through his eyes like ivy. He was cocky and arrogant, making him seem somewhat childish, but I knew there was nothing childish about that look. His eyes watched me like I was a mystery to unravel, a puzzle for him to put together, a hidden treasure waiting to be found. I didn’t know what to think when he looked at me like that.

“Show me the water, and then we’ll go over what we should do.”

He deemed the supply of stocked water as “impressive” before we returned to the kitchen where he opened each and every drawer and cupboard silently while I looked on. Once done, he stood in the middle of the kitchen with feet shoulder-width apart, his thick arms stiff against his sides. He looked intimidating this way. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about being stuck with someone I didn’t know, but I thought I would rather have him there than not. I’d never been alone before, not truly. There had always been something to do, somewhere to go, someone to talk to. Could you imagine being stuck somewhere alone, completely alone? That’s worse than prison.

Plus, it kind of helped that he seemed to know his way around during an emergency.

“It looks like you have quite a bit of meat, which should last up to 3–4 days after we heat it, so let’s cook some of the chicken and steaks. You have a gas stove, so I’m not too concerned about cooking everything now. We should be fine on water so long as we stick to a gallon a day per person. You have some orange juice and soy milk, so I think we should switch drinking a glass of each every other day.”

“All right, pretty bird, you ready to show me what you got?”

“Wait, what?” I didn’t know when I zoned out, but his question shook me from my wandering thoughts.

“I already know what you got in there,” he said, his eyes perusing the curves of my body before his head motioned in the direction of the bedroom. I must have blushed ten shades of red before his mouth transformed into that sexy smirk that had me dropping my panties in the first place. Before I could pick my jaw from off the floor, he continued, “you said you could bake…”

“Oh.” I hightailed it to the pantry, like my ass had been pricked with a pitchfork. Turning on the light, I quickly pulled out all the things needed to make most types of baked goods. The large bags of flour and sugar were bundled against my chest with small containers of yeast, salt, and baking soda set atop. Though nothing could prepare me for the sight when I exited the pantry.

Joel was bent over in front of my fridge. The firm, round globes of his ass shining like a beacon in the night, guiding me to safe haven.

The quick intake of breath seized my lungs while every muscle from his shoulders down to his thighs was pulled taut, tempting me with thoughts of how firm yet forgiving his muscles felt beneath my hands. The crap in my hands seemed to fall from my arms, clunking across the counter, as I stayed focused on the way his shirt molded to his skin, highlighting the arch between his shoulder blades.

A couple days alone with that and I would need a rescue team to come save me from this man.

Rules. I put rules in place for this very reason. Something told me I was going to have a hard time abiding by those rules.

Chapter Three

There was something so domestic about working in the kitchen alongside Joel. He looked so comfortable in my home, working in my kitchen and wandering about my house without even an ounce of timidity in his actions. He moved from one end of the kitchen to the other intuitively, as if he knew where to find all the essentials to carve and season the meat that he handled like a professional butcher. I watched while his hands moved across the steak like a lover’s hands, and I grew hot thinking of the way those same hands held me firm the night before. How they dripped down from my shoulders to my hips as if he were committing the touch of my skin to memory.

“Oh, I should probably charge my devices before the power goes out.”

He leaned over the sink to peer out the blackened window. “Yeah, I would get on that. We probably only have a few hours before everything is down.”

Dropping the measuring spoon on the counter, I dashed off to collect my phone, mp3 player, and laptop and their various chargers. I brought them all to the kitchen, hooking them up to the outlet next to the fridge. My phone beeped when I pugged it in, alerting me to a few missed messages.

Kerri: Text me when you’re home, so we know you weren’t murdered before you got a good fucking. Teehee.

Kerri: OK, I’m going to assume the sex is soooo good you’re still reaping the benefits.

Kerri: Don’t make me come over there!!! Ugh, I sound like my mother.

Kerri: Is he still there?

Kerri: Storm coming. Be safe! Call me.

“I’ll be right back,” I said to Joel over the sound of him pulverizing the chicken.

“OK.”

I double-checked the bars on my phone, smiling at my little bit of luck—three bars. Making my way back to the living room, I sat down and called Kerri back. The phone rang two times before she answered breathlessly. Perhaps I’m not the only one who got lucky last night.

“Are you seeing this shit?” she greeted between huffs.

“I know. I can’t believe it,” I groan.

“Some fucking weathermen—they can’t predict shit like this? I would have got in a quickie last night if I had known it would be weeks before I got any.” Her voice displayed the same sexual frustration we’d been hearing for weeks at the office. I’m pretty sure some of the girls had a pool going of when she’d finally break the spell.

I let out a light chuckle thinking of her reaction to my predicament. She is going to flip her lid when I tell her, or will she be excited for me, or jealous? I didn’t notice when the phone went silent, but it wasn’t long before her soft lilt echoed through the phone folding me back into the conversation.

“OK, spill your guts. I may need all the salacious details to hold me over. Hold nothing back. And none of that shy shit. You’re probably just as freaky as the rest of us.”

“How much did I drink last night?” I whispered, looking over my shoulder to the dining room to make sure Joel hadn’t crept up on me again.

“God, Blaire, you’re such a lightweight. Don’t tell me you blacked out.”

“Well I do remember some things,” I said smiling to myself as I remembered the few good memories that weren’t absorbed by the alcohol sponge that seemed to wipe everything else from the night before.

“Annnnd…”

“Let’s just say he’s big, all over.”

“So he’s got a big dick? Let’s leave euphemisms out of this. Are we talking 6, 7, 8 inches or Guinness-Book-of-World-Records big?”

“It’s definitely porno dick.” I paused, testing to see if she would chastise me for not providing an actual quantifiable number. “I can’t remember much after the third orgasm, but let’s just say I’m still sore.”

“Positions?”

“Jeez, who knew you were a total nympho? You may want to charge your laptop so you can rub one out to professionals instead of a play-by-play of my one-night stand. In the bed—me on top, him on top, him behind, tongue, fingers, the works…more importantly, he definitely has a way with words,” I said, running through the basics. By the time I got to his penchant for talking dirty, I started to feel like the room was heating up.

“Blaire?”

Fuck, he did it again! How did a man of his size move like a snake in the grass, striking without warning? I yipped loudly into the phone and held my hand firmly over the mouthpiece, trying to shield Kerri from the knowledge that he was still there. If she didn’t ask and it didn’t come up, I had no intentions of divulging that of my own accord.

“Yes?”

I imagined my eyebrows were somewhere up by my hairline as I internally questioned his appearance.

“You’re not allergic to anything, are you? I already started seasoning things, but I just wanted to make sure.”

“No,” I breathed, shaking my head.

He returned to the kitchen, and I waited until I heard proof that he’d continued his work before I uncovered the phone.

“Oh. My. God. You have got to be kidding me. He’s still there, isn’t he? You’re stuck there with him. Your own personal sex slave for the next two weeks. Fuck, you don’t deserve it. You’re probably going to let good dick go to waste. I know it. I know you.” Every word was stiff, punctuated. She was more shocked by my circumstance than I was.

“I don’t even know him. I think it’s complicated enough without throwing sex in the middle of all this.”

“Sex is already in the middle of it. The best thing you can do is ride that man through the storm. What’s he doing right now?”

“He’s in the kitchen. We were in the kitchen preparing food.”

“Get out! You’ve got that man in the kitchen already? What the fuck are you doing on the phone with me? I swear, God wasted good parts on you. Get off the phone and show that man around your kitchen.” She said “your kitchen” like it was a euphemism for something else, something I didn’t even want her to explain.

I choked back my laughter. “You know satellite towers may go down, so this could be the last time we speak. Are you going to be OK over there? What about Piper? Have you checked on her?”

“Yes, yes, we’re all OK. Don’t worry about us. Let me say this and then I’ll let you go…you better have more stories for me by the time this storm passes, or you can consider yourself friendless. Bye, my lovely. Mwah.”

When I returned to the kitchen, I quickly put the phone on the charger before returning back to my task. With the dough having risen, I stuffed the loaf pan in the oven before returning to the batter of muffins that I was putting together before I got sidetracked.

Three hours later it looked like Thanksgiving, with dishes overflowing the sink and nearly every spice and condiment I owned covering the countertops. There was a clear distinction of where he worked when in the kitchen and where I did—the right side was littered with various consistencies of spices and herbs, whereas his side had splashes of watered-down blood and white blobs of fat that had been trimmed from the meat. We cleaned everything up and put everything away, both of us looking a little beat from slaving in the kitchen.

“You said you have a brother. Do you have any board games here?”

“What does one thing have to do with the other?” I asked, curious by his line of questioning.

“Typically kids who grow up with siblings have board games. Just something I’ve noticed,” he replied with a simple shrug of his shoulders as he followed me back out to the living room. I assumed he was an only child by the way he spoke. I imagined a cute, little boy with sparkling green eyes and shaggy brown hair playing with his train set alone. Though he looked unaffected by the conversation, there was something sad in his words. Or, it could be that I’d always thought of only children as a bit lonely. Even on bad days with my brother, I was still happy I had a sibling.

“I guess. I think I have some. They’re probably old though, and I don’t know how fun they’ll be with only two people.”

“It’s not like I’m expecting quality entertainment here. I figure it will be nice to have something to entertain us when the power goes out. Unless, you have a better idea of something entertaining to do?”

To be perfectly honest, I’d already started questioning how feasible it was to stay locked up night and day with this man without throwing myself at him, but then he spoke, and his enticing words seemed to lick up my spine with whispers of what I would be missing if I stuck to the rules. The rules I, myself, had set.

He seemed like the fuck ‘em and chuck ‘em type, so maybe our circumstances had no effect on him, but for me, this was something altogether new. I wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed in those types of things. There was no one I could talk to about this, and I couldn’t quite Google, “What to do when stuck with a one-night stand?” As much as I would have liked nothing more than to use him to my heart’s content, I knew everything had consequences, and the one time I’d been burned was enough to last a lifetime.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” I said when I concluded that it would be best to stick to the rules.

I took time showing him around the house as I made my way to the spare bedroom I used as an office. Walking over to the curtains, I pulled them shut before turning to the adjacent closet. The room was pretty scarce aside from my desk, chair, and lamp. The lack of furnishings allowed me to use the space for my morning yoga, which I could have gone for right about then. I needed to find my Zen.

I turned back to see Joel looking around the room, sizing up the empty space.

“How long have you lived here?”

“A little over six months,” I responded while trying to wiggle the games from underneath some bags. The bags shifted as if they wanted to come down, too, but I was being lazy and continued pulling the games while trying to shuffle the bags back toward the wall.

“Eeep,” I squealed as I ducked down in avoidance of the bag that teetered on the ledge. After a second without the bag hitting the top of my head, I risked looking up. Joel had pushed the bags up and pulled the remaining games out before taking a step back. Removing the other game from my hands, he folded his arms around the varied boxes and stepped aside, waiting for me to lead the way.

Before we left the room, he said, “We should probably get any flashlights, candles, matches, and batteries you have around the house. It’s easier to find those things while the lights are still on.”

***

The power didn’t go out that night, which was how we found ourselves relaxing on the couch watching a Blu-ray of my favorite assassin movie. It was one that was popular when it came out, so when I suggested the movie, I was sure he’d already seen it, but if he had, he never let on.

Before the movie began, I retired to the bedroom to change into a decent set of pajamas that covered every bit of skin that he could find tempting. The only flesh that showed were my feet and anything from my collarbone up. Joel apparently slept in less clothing, so when I returned to the living room, he was stripped down to his briefs and my brother’s Ramones shirt.

With long legs outstretched, Joel sat comfortably pressed into the corner of the sectional that acted like an island. I sat dead center with my legs folded in, my hands resting between the creases created by my pretzled legs.

I interspersed looks of Joel’s body laid out across the couch with watching the movie. Luckily, this was one of those movies that didn’t feel the need to mix romance or sex with the killing; I didn’t need any more thoughts of sex besides those that were rotating on a conveyor belt in my mind. If Joel was or had been thinking about what happened between us the night before, he didn’t show it. In fact, he watched the movie as if it were the first time, not so much as looking at the small baggie of rationed crackers that sat between us.

It was only when his hand accidentally brushed mine, while attempting to pull a few crackers from the bag, that he finally looked at me. Our eyes locked for a brief moment. A moment that felt like an eternity as light from the TV flickered across his eyes, making his emerald eyes glow. In the light, his eyes mimicked the transition of fall leaves—how the sharp green shifts to yellow, orange, and red before they drift to the ground. When he looked away, I fought everything in me that encouraged me to reach out and touch his face, pulling his eyes back to mine so I could read their depths.