Chapter 32
TRENT
The basement wasn’t much. Just a den really, with two side rooms for storage and a backup pantry my mother insisted on stocking like we were preparing for the end of days. The generator hummed steadily above us, a dependable rumble.
At least it was working properly now. That was a godsend.
Charlotte sank into the small couch with her arms wrapped tight around herself, her wet hair dripping onto her shoulders. She tried to look composed, but every few seconds, whenever thunder cracked, her eyes flicked toward the narrow window.
Giving her a minute to realize she was safe now and no longer lost with Hurricane Hustle, I pulled out my phone to check in on my parents, finding a text waiting for my mom.
Claira Shepard: Let me know you’re okay. We’re safe. The hail’s loud as hell. Where are you?
I typed back that we were safe too, in my storm basement. Then I flipped through the weather alerts. There was still just a severe thunderstorm warning, no tornadoes on the ground as far as I could tell.
The power flickered again and the TV went black, then came back to life with the local meteorologist being far too cheerful about wind speeds that could rip a roof clean off. I turned the volume down and glanced at Charlotte.
As soon as I saw that she’d started shaking, I moved closer. “Hey, are you okay?”
She nodded, but her teeth were chattering and it dawned on me then that she hadn’t grown up with this kind of weather. Chicago storms were loud, sure, but not in the same way. From what I’d seen when I’d been there, they weren’t this violent.
“You’re freezing,” I murmured when I reached out to touch her shoulder. “Hey, listen to me, we’re perfectly safe unless you decide to get hypothermia in the summer.”
“I’m fine,” she said, the lie so obvious even her brothers could’ve spotted it despite their insane schedules.
When I touched her hand, her fingers were like ice and I shook my head before I straightened up. “You need dry clothes.”
She tensed immediately, like she thought I was going to undress her right there. Hell, the thought had definitely occurred to me, but I kept my voice steady, trying to be reassuring. “I’m going upstairs. I’ll grab towels, clothes, and check on the house while I’m at it.”
Judging by the way her eyes flew wide open, she didn’t like that. She reached for me again, like she had when I’d tried to check the breaker earlier. “Trent, I don’t want to be alone.”
“You won’t be alone. I’ll be gone for two minutes.” I brushed my thumb along her knuckles. “I promise, okay? I’m just going to grab some clothes for both of us, then I’ll be back. I’ll be just fine. The storm isn’t even really that bad yet.”
She swallowed hard but nodded. Knowing better than to waste any time, I spun around and strode across the room. The generator lights flickered as I climbed the stairs, my boots squelching with each step.
Upstairs, rain hammered against the windows in sheets, hail cracking against the glass like someone was throwing handfuls of marbles at them, but the house was holding up just fine. It’d been built to withstand much worse than this, but I’d taken her to the basement just to be safe.
When I reached my—our—bedroom, I grabbed two of my old cotton shirts and two pairs of sweats. I knew these would be huge on her, but it would also keep her warm. Then I snagged a couple towels from the linen closet and hustled back downstairs.
She looked up the second she heard me, tension draining from her shoulders like she’d been holding her breath the entire time. I set the clothes down and grinned, needing to put her at ease and assure her that I was fine.
“Told you I’d be two minutes.”
“You were gone for five.”
I gave her a smile, my eyebrows arching and my hands on my hips. “If I knew you were timing me, I would have run.”
She flashed me a tiny smile, but small as it was, I would take that over the fear from earlier. Striding across the room, I knelt in front of her, close enough to feel how cold she still was. “Let’s get you warm, sweetheart.”
Her breath caught at the endearment, her eyes flying down to mine, but she didn’t move away. I took one of the towels and wrapped it around her shoulders, rubbing gently, then reached for the hem of her damp shirt.
“May I?” I asked.
She nodded and I peeled the wet fabric away from her skin, working hard to keep my eyes on hers instead of anywhere else.
Her lips parted with a small inhale as the cold air hit her.
Goosebumps rose across her collarbones. I worked fast, but gently, drying her arms, her back, and her stomach, every inch shaking from the chill.
Once she was in my clothes, I moved around the corner and changed into the dry set I’d brought for myself. Then I went back into the main room and stood in front of the TV, watching the storm move across the screen on the news. She drew my attention to her when she spoke again.
“I still can’t really get my fingers to work,” she whispered. My heart tripped over itself at the realization that she wasn’t holding up as well as I’d thought.
“I’ve got you,” I murmured, immediately going over and taking each of her hands in mine, warming them between my palms. “You’re okay.”
Her eyes met mine, soft and trusting, and I felt the implications of that right in the center of my dang chest. I wasn’t sure I deserved for her to look at me that way, but I was going to do everything in my power to earn it.
She was finally starting to warm up, her skin pinking and her shoulders loosening, when another crack of thunder split the sky wide open. The basement vibrated with it and Charlotte flinched so hard she nearly knocked into me.
“Hey,” I said softly.
Her breathing was rapid, her gaze was glued to the floor, and her shoulders curled inward like she was trying to make herself smaller. The panic had hit her fast, like a wave rolling over her before she’d even realized it was coming.
“Charlotte.” I moved in front of her. “Look at me.”
She didn’t, so I slid my hands up to her face, holding her cheeks gently but firmly enough that she had no choice. Her skin was warm now, but her pulse was still fluttering under my thumbs.
“Breathe,” I said. “It’s just noise.”
She let out a shaky sound that barely qualified as a laugh. “It’s not just noise. The sirens, the hail, the wind. It feels dangerous.”
“It is, but not to us. Not right now.” I leaned in so our foreheads nearly touched. “If there was a real tornado threat, we’d know. I grew up with this shit. This is a decent storm, but it’s not gonna take us to Oz. You’re safe. I promise.”
Her eyes flicked up to mine, wet, wide, and still too scared. I pulled back a little, my thumbs stroking across her cheekbones as I tried to fight a grin. “And quit getting worked up just to get out of being berated for stealing my damn horse.”
Her mouth fell open. “I did not steal your horse.”
“You absolutely stole my horse,” I said, leveling her with a look. “You took Hurricane Hustle out like you were riding off into the sunset alone with no plan, and then got stuck out in the middle of the worst storm we’ve had in months.”
Her jaw tightened. “I just needed a bit of space.”
“You could’ve gotten space without damn near giving me a heart attack.”
“Well, excuse me for wanting some room to think,” she snapped, color rising in her cheeks. “Besides, we’re married now. Doesn’t that make him my horse, too?”
I chuckled. “Yeah, okay. Maybe you didn’t steal him. And room to think? Sure. Take that any day, but galloping a half-wild racehorse into a thunderstorm? Less sure. A lot less sure.”
She shoved lightly at my chest, but I didn’t budge an inch. “I wasn’t galloping.”
“It sure felt like you were,” I muttered.
“You didn’t see it.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so you were galloping before I found you?”
She groaned. “Trent.”
“What?” I asked, but my voice was gentle. “You scared me, Charlotte.”
That brought her up short, her lips parting and her eyelids glitching with a few too many blinks. “You were scared? Really?”
“Terrified,” I admitted without hesitation. “I came home and you were gone, and so was Hustle, and the sky was getting dark. I thought I’d find you in a ditch or hanging off a damn fence.”
Her chin trembled, but it looked like she didn’t know what to do with that information. Thunder boomed again before either of us could say anything and she flinched hard, her shoulders jerking.
I tightened my hands on her face. “Hey. Eyes on me. Not the storm. On me.”
She did as she was told this time, her gaze locking onto mine. Something snapped between us as soon as our eyes met, slicing clean and sharp through the air like a wire that had been pulled too tight for too long.
Her breathing changed. Mine did too. Her eyes dropped to my mouth.
“Charlotte,” I warned.
I didn’t even know what I was warning her about. Myself, probably.
She rose onto her toes, her hands sliding up my chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt, and she kissed me. It was the first time she’d ever started it and I folded.
Instantly. Like paper.
I made a low sound that was embarrassingly close to a moan, and hauled her against me, one hand sliding into her damp hair and the other wrapping around her waist like I could fuse her to me. Her mouth was warm, soft, and desperate, kissing me like she’d been dying for it all day.
Hell, maybe I had too.
The storm raged on outside, but all I could feel was her. Her lips, her breath, and her hands bunching in my shirt, pulling me even closer. She gasped into my mouth when I angled her head and deepened the kiss, and the sound lit every one of my nerve endings on fire.
I pulled back for a second, just enough to breathe, and pressed our foreheads together. “If you keep kissing me like that—”
“I’m going to,” she murmured steadily, showing no traces of backing down. “Unless you look me in the eyes and tell me that you want me to stop.”
I groaned. “I can’t do that.”
“So why expect me to?” She gazed up at me. “Forget whatever else I might be and focus on the fact that above all else, I’m your wife.”
My heart was thundering louder than the storm outside. “Fuck, Charlotte. I can’t do this with you.”
“Then who?” Hurt flickered in her eyes. “Is it—”
The last thread of my restraint snapped, and this time when I kissed her, my mouth crashed into hers. She melted into me like she’d been made for it, but I could still feel the uncertainty in her.
Shit, why do I keep putting my foot in it with this woman?
“You are the only woman I want, Charlotte,” I said between bruising kisses. “Trust me when I tell you that this isn’t about want.”
“What is it about then?”
Her fingers slid up the back of my neck and my whole body shuddered.
Finally, I looked into her eyes again, my breathing rapid as the truth bled out of me.
“Once we cross this line, we can’t uncross it.
We can’t walk it back or take it back, and I sure as fuck am not going to be able to go back to how things were. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
She didn’t miss a beat. “Yes.”
Another low sound came out of me, closer to a growl this time. Whatever it was, it sure wasn’t human and I’d definitely never made it before, but I sealed my lips back over hers and I knew, beyond any kind of doubt, that I wasn’t going to be able to put a stop to it again.