14. Donny
14
Donny
Carmen’s warm body is pressed against mine when I wake, her soft breaths tickling my neck. For a moment, I let myself imagine this as my everyday life. I carefully slip out of bed, making sure not to wake her.
As I move away, I spot a family photo on her nightstand—Carmen at about six, smiling brightly between her parents and brother. It hits me how little I actually know about her life outside of work. I make a mental note to ask her about her childhood over breakfast.
The door’s still frozen shut, but I’m not worried. We’ll figure this out, one way or another.
I’m not sure if Carmen will sleep in, but I set out enough eggs, bacon, and coffee just in case she joins me while I’m cooking. There’s enough food in here for a few days, but I’m concerned about what will happen if we are stuck in any longer. I assume that Carmen’s parents are the ones who stocked each of the cabins, or Walker, and I wish I could thank them properly for their generosity.
Instead of dwelling on the storm, my mind drifts to last night—the moment the power cut out, leaving us in complete darkness. I found her standing still, barely breathing, and without thinking, I reached for her. The way she melted into me, trusting me without hesitation, hit me harder than I expected. It wasn’t just about keeping her safe—it was something more. Moments like that make it hard to remind myself that this whole charade isn’t going to last. Because in that darkness, holding her close felt real.
She had this softness about her that I’d never seen before and it instantly made me want to be closer to her.
The aroma of coffee fills the cabin, a comforting contrast to the harsh winter landscape outside. I glance out the window, the blanket of white reminding me of our isolation, before turning my attention back to breakfast preparations.
I drop strips of bacon into a skillet, which sizzles as soon as it hits the pan, and while those start searing, I whisk eggs in a bowl for an omelet. Soon enough I’ve got the eggs cooking in another pan, filled with chopped peppers and onion, with shredded cheese sprinkled in the middle, and once the bacon is cooked enough, I add that into the mix.
It’s when I’m putting toast onto a plate when Carmen finally emerges from the bedroom and I have to squeeze my eyes shut to contain the groan, desperate to crawl up my throat.
She’s got an oversized tee shirt on and it barely hangs over her ass. Her hairs pulled into a haphazard bun, like she got out of bed and twisted it without thought.
“Something smells good this morning,” she mumbles while reaching for the coffeepot that I’ve already got overflowing with coffee.
I know she’s talking to me, yet I can’t bring myself to form words in response.
As if sensing my dilemma, she turns to look at me over her shoulder and arches a brow. “Are we just going to let the food burn?”
“ Shit ,” I mutter, then hurry over to the stove and flip the omelet.
Carmen glides over, her presence as warm as the stove’s heat. I stiffen involuntarily as she peers around me at the pan, her voice soft. “Mmm, love a good omelet.”
When I don’t answer, she backs away, a challenge in her eyes. “Cat got your tongue this morning, Drummer Boy?”
I turn, catching her eye over my shoulder. “Just enjoying the view, Sunshine,” I say, my voice low. “It’s not often I get to share breakfast with someone so beautiful.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I saw a flicker of uncertainty cross her face. Right. This is supposed to be pretend.
I fully turn around, and my breath catches in my throat. My eyes involuntarily trace the lines of her body, drinking in the sight of her curves and bare legs. I try to look away, to be a gentleman, but I'm mesmerized.
Carmen watches me, her brow furrowing slightly as she notices my stare. Then, as if suddenly aware of her state of undress, her eyes widen and she glances down at herself. A soft gasp escapes her lips, and a rosy blush blooms across her cheeks, spreading down her neck. Then she’s hurrying into the bedroom without another word.
A few moments pass by when she comes back out into the kitchen, now completely dressed instead of half-naked, and I find that I’m able to breathe a little easier. I’m also able to look at her without thinking about what it would’ve been like to strip the shirt from her and see what she’s hiding underneath it all.
My cock jumps at attention with that thought and I groan softly, doing my best to adjust myself discreetly before I turn around and put Carmen’s plate in front of her. She stares at me for a moment, her cheeks tinting that pretty pink again, and brushes a strand of loose hair behind her ear.
“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking when I walked out.” She shakes her head and sighs. “I’m used to being alone.”
I clear my throat and give her what I hope is a genuine smile. “Not a problem. We’re supposed to be getting married, after all.”
Her skin turns back to normal, and she rolls her eyes. “I highly doubt that is what you had in mind.”
She has no idea the things running through my mind right now, and if she did, she’d probably blush from head to toe.
Trying to ease the tension, I decide to change the subject. "Hey, Sunshine, what's your favorite childhood memory? I realize I don't know much about you."
She looks surprised by the question, but then a soft smile plays on her lips. "Oh, that's easy. It was the Christmas I got my first puppy, Max. He was this tiny golden retriever with paws too big for his body. I woke up to find him under the tree with a big red bow, and I've never felt joy like that since."
Her eyes light up as she speaks, and I can't help but smile at the image of a young Carmen with her puppy. "Sounds magical. What happened to Max?"
"He lived a long, happy life. Passed away when I was in college," she says, a hint of sadness in her voice. "But those memories? They're priceless."
I nod, appreciating this glimpse into her past. "Thanks for sharing that with me, Carmen."
Clearing my throat, I continue, "Let me make dinner for you tonight," I say, my voice low and intimate. "To thank you for... everything." I say sweetly, hoping it will further ease the tension that's been hanging heavily in the air.
“Seems as though I may not have a choice,” she mutters, her attention turning toward the front door with a frown.
“Gee, such excitement.”
Her eyes flick to me, a hint of amusement in them. “I’ll have dinner with you.”
“Dress for the occasion, Sunshine.”
She rolls her eyes, but I catch the ghost of a smile. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Whatever you say,” I reply, my voice low and teasing. “But I’m still going to make it special. After all, what kind of fiancé would I be if I didn’t?”
She quirks an eyebrow, but I catch the slight upturn of her lips. It’s small, but it’s progress. And I’m determined to make the most of this situation, one way or another.
“Eat up while it’s hot.”
The silence that surrounds us as we eat is enough to have me thinking about how I can make dinner tonight the best it can be for her.
I start mentally inventorying our supplies, planning a menu that will impress her. Maybe I can’t take her to a fancy restaurant, but I can bring the restaurant to her. The challenge of it, of making something special in these circumstances, thrills me.
I can tell she’s slowly warming up to me. The truth is, I’m hellbent on getting her to warm up to me because of that kiss. It hit me harder than I expected, stirring up feelings I wasn’t ready for—and still don’t fully understand.
I’ve always been drawn to Carmen’s fire, but being trapped here with her like this? Those feelings are becoming primal, and keeping my hands off her is becoming damn near impossible.
***
As the day slipped into dusk, the cabin’s small kitchen became the heart of our evening. The sizzle of chicken hitting the pan, mixed with the rich aroma of garlic and herbs, filled the space, a comforting contrast to the wind howling outside. The storm hadn’t let up, its presence a constant reminder of why we were still here.
Once I finish stirring the alfredo and set it to simmer with the seared chicken, I quickly head to the bathroom outside the bedroom to change into something a bit more suitable for dinner. I settled on a pair of jeans, without the usual holes, and a simple tee, not too dressy but not overly casual. There’s a good chance Carmen’s going to show up in pajamas, despite my suggestion to dress for a date, so I’m aiming for the middle ground.
After a quick attempt to tame my unruly curls—because of course, they refuse to cooperate—I run my fingers through them, trying to smooth the wildness. If there’s one thing I hate about curly hair, it’s how it seems to have a mind of its own, especially after spending the day messing with it.
Luckily, I was so preoccupied about the dinner that I haven’t had much time to think about the fact that we’re still locked up in here with no signs of the weather getting hot enough to thaw the door. Walker could’ve easily made a move to unthaw it for us, get the door open, but I haven’t seen much of him each time I looked out the window.
Maybe we aren’t the only ones frozen inside?
When I pull open the door, I’m not expecting Carmen to be ready on time, but there she is, standing in the middle of the living room. The dress clings to her curves, and she’s looking around, clearly searching for me. I pause, silently taking her in, a surge of pride and desire rising as I watch her.
She’s got her hair falling down her back in waves, the strands looking smooth enough that my fingers are itching to reach out and thread through them. The silky dress she’s got on doesn’t hide anything from the imagination and I’m certain that if she turns around, I’m going to get an eyeful of something I’ll never be able to forget. I glance down at the black heels she’s got on, the straps wrapping around her ankle, and I get a brief image of her standing in front of me with only those heels on.
It’s enough to have me groaning, which startles her, and she spins around to face me.
Nothing could’ve prepared me for what that would be like. The breath has been knocked from my lungs as I look into her bright gaze, shining unnaturally under the dim lighting from the kitchen. She glances over my frame, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion, and I realize she probably thinks she’s overdressed for the night.
I clear my throat and chuckle, running a hand down the back of my neck nervously. “I, uh, didn’t expect you to look so… beautiful.”
She rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Gee, thanks a lot. You sure know how to make me feel special.”
“Shit,” I mutter, then take a step forward and grab one of her hands. “That’s not what I meant. You’re always beautiful. I just didn’t expect you to take my words seriously when I said to dress for the occasion.”
“Should I go change?” she asks, chewing on the inside of her cheek while darting her attention around the room.
“Don’t you dare,” I growl, the sound foreign coming out of me, and I take a tentative step back. “Let me check on dinner.”
Carmen turns to walk away and I grab her elbow gently, forcing her to look back at me. “Seriously, Sunshine, you look beautiful tonight.”
Her cheeks heat and she nods curtly. “Thanks, Drummer Boy.”
Now that I’ve seen how she looks tonight, I’m more nervous that something will go wrong with dinner and I wipe my sweaty hands down my thighs in frustration. Nerves have never taken hold of me so much and it’s nerve wracking to say the least.
She follows me in the kitchen, as I'm gathering ingredients for dinner. I have to remind myself to stay focused on the task at hand.
"So, what's on the menu for tonight?" she asks, her voice light but with an undercurrent of something I can't quite place.
I grin, grateful for the distraction. "I thought I'd keep it simple but delicious. How does Chicken Alfredo sound?"
"Mmm, creamy pasta with tender chicken? Sounds perfect," she replies, her eyebrows raising slightly. "I didn't know you could cook Italian."
"Well, it's more Italian-American, but I've picked up a few tricks," I say, unable to keep the pride from my voice. Cooking has always been my secret talent, something I rarely share with others. "The secret is in getting the sauce just right - creamy, but not too heavy."
"I'm impressed," Carmen admits. "And here I thought your talents were limited to the drums."
I can't help but chuckle, meeting her eyes. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Sunshine. Maybe it's time you found out."
The words come out more suggestive than I intended, and I see a flicker of something—surprise? Interest?—in Carmen's eyes. I turn back to my preparations, trying to steady my hands and my racing thoughts.
As I start chopping vegetables, I can feel Carmen's eyes on me.
Is she as affected as I am?
The Chicken Alfredo turned out better than I expected—creamy with just the right amount of garlic and perfectly seared chicken mixed in. The smell still lingers, wrapping around us, making the quiet between us feel heavier somehow.
Carmen finishes off the last of her wine, courtesy of the wine cabinet being partially stocked, and chuckles before rising from her chair. “I should get to bed.”
“Thanks for dinner,” she murmurs, her voice quiet, almost... shy.
She doesn’t seem to be too intoxicated, she’s only drank a few glasses of wine, but that doesn’t stop me from being protective as I rise to help her into the bedroom. I wait for her to scold me about helping, but she keeps her eyes straight ahead and narrows them in concentration.
When we stumble into the room, I’m so focused on the look in her eyes—those dark, unreadable depths—that I don’t notice the shoes scattered across the floor until it’s too late. My foot catches, and we go down hard. Instinct kicks in, and I twist mid-fall, wedging myself between Carmen and the floor.
The impact knocks the air out of me, but it’s not just the fall that leaves me breathless. Carmen lands sprawled on top of me, her soft curves pressed against every inch of my body. My hands find her waist without thinking, holding her steady.
And that’s when everything slows.
She’s right there, her chest rising and falling in quick bursts against mine. Her tongue drags slowly across her bottom lip, and my mind blanks.
Fuck. Closing my eyes for half a second, I try to will the rush of desire away. It surges anyway, planting itself deep inside me.
The moment she feels it, her eyes widen, and she jumps, lips parting slightly in surprise.
A sharp breath escapes me as I fight to keep my hands still against her waist, uncertain if she’s even aware they’re there. Every nerve screams for movement, but I wait, bracing for her to tell me to get the hell off of her. Time stretches painfully thin before she finally shifts, wiggling in my grasp. Reluctantly, I ease my hold—but she doesn’t pull away.
“What... what are you doing?” The question slips from me, low and rough, more growl than words.
“Hell if I know,” she whispers, her gaze locked on mine, pupils blown wide.right before slamming her lips against mine in a searing kiss that has me turning into pathetic putty in her hands.
She could will me to do anything right now and I would, no questions asked.
I breathe in her floral scent, mixed with a hint of vanilla, and groan against the curve of her neck. Her hips grind into my lap, slowly and surely, and it takes everything in me not to tear the dress from her body.
I’m giving her control.
And the way she looks at me—like she’s weighing every possible outcome, every line we could cross—makes me want her even more.
Then she leans in just a little closer, her eyes searching mine. "Donny," she whispers, "what are we doing?"
In this moment, with Carmen in my arms, our breaths mingling, I can't tell where the act ends and reality begins. The line we've been toeing has become so blurred, it's practically invisible.
"I don't know," I finally admit, my voice barely audible. "But I know I don't want to stop."