11. Sophie
CHAPTER 11
SOPHIE
W e got an out-of-town call Friday night, to a crash on a rural road in the middle of nowhere. The local service already had both their rigs out, so when the crash came in, it came to us. We rolled up on-scene expecting the worst — car versus tree on an icy-cold night — but when we arrived, the damage was minor. The car had struck sidelong and scraped off its paint, but not hard enough to set off its airbag. The worst part of the call was locating the driver, who’d got tired of waiting and left us a note.
WENT NORTH FOR HELP – UP TO GAS STATION.
We drove north a few miles and saw nothing but trees, no tracks by the roadside, no hint of life. Miles pulled over at a wide spot and flicked on his high beams.
“He couldn’t have come a lot farther than this.”
“You think we missed him?”
Miles shook his head. “No. I was thinking the snow filled his tracks, but there’s nothing up here. No gas station for miles. I think this fool can’t tell his north from his south.”
We turned around and searched to the south, and soon enough I spotted a figure trudging along kicking up snow. Miles pulled up.
“Hello? You come from that car wreck?”
The driver turned, wiping his nose.
“Yeah. Man, it’s cold. I thought there was a gas station somewhere up here.”
“There is,” said Miles. “If it wasn’t snowing, you’d see it.”
“I’m not from here, as if you can’t tell. Looking for my in-laws’, and I hit that black ice. You think you could drive me to the gas station? I can Uber from there.”
I laughed. “Not out here, you can’t. But you can call your in-laws.”
Miles got out of the bus, and I got out with him. I guided the driver around to the back.
“Were you alone in that car?”
“Uh-huh, just me.”
“And are you hurt anywhere? Any dizziness? Headache?”
“No, I’m all right. I was going slow. Looking for my turnoff, and that’s when I skidded.”
“All right, step up here. We’ll get you somewhere safe.” I helped him into the back and Miles checked him over, but it was as he’d said: he was fine. Not a scratch. We drove him up to the gas station and let him out, and called dispatch to let them know we were going.
“Lucky guy,” Miles said, as we drove away. “These backroads in winter, no lights, it’s bad.”
“I didn’t know anyone lived way out here.”
“Yeah, there’s some cabins out in the woods. Well, ‘cabins’ — McMansions with a backwood flair. We should’ve got coffee back at that gas station.”
I yawned. “Yeah, we should. We could always loop back.”
“I would, but?—”
“Shit!”
We swerved without warning, our back end fishtailing. Miles steered into the skid, but we spun like a top, tires squealing, brakes grinding, bags sliding in back. Miles yelled hold on , and I grabbed my headrest. I caught flashes of tree trunks and snow whirling by, then black, empty sky, then a bent-up mile marker. A branch struck the windshield in front of my face, and I shrieked as the glass starred and buckled in.
“Miles!”
“Just hold on!”
I shut my eyes tight. Visions flashed through my head, warnings from training — ambulances are like turtles. They want to be on their backs. We swayed and I screamed, and I knew we were flipping. Rolling over the guardrail and down the scarp, the roof caving in, the doors, the windshield. Our whole back end folding accordion style. We’d be crushed with it. They’d spray us out with a hose.
“Reeves!”
We hit with a bump. I felt us go flying. I curled in on myself. I didn’t want to die.
“Reeves.”
The whole bus was shaking. Rattling apart. Spinning and spinning?—
“Open your eyes.”
I pressed my palms to my face, but my panic was fading. We weren’t spinning, just my head. I was dizzy and shaken, but sitting still. Sitting still, breathing, and right way up. We’d never gone flying, never tumbled or rolled. Miles was shaking me gently. Gripping my arm.
“I’m okay?” I said.
“Move your hands. Let me look.”
I dropped my hands and all I saw was white, my airbag draped over me and snow outside.
“We hit a snowbank,” said Miles. “Probably saved our lives. But I think we’re stuck. Can you move your arm?”
I blinked. “My arm?”
“Your tablet flew into it when your airbag went off.”
I touched my left arm and it felt okay. When I flexed, it moved fine. I wiggled my fingers. My hands stung and itched, I guessed from the airbag. My heart was still pounding, my stomach all tight. But other than that, I felt okay.
“We didn’t hit that hard,” said Miles. “How many fingers?”
I pushed his fingers away. “I didn’t hit my head. Three. Well, two and a thumb.”
“I’ll call in,” he said. “You check on the rig.”
I squeezed out with some difficulty — my door was snowed shut — and circled the bus, sniffing for gas. I didn’t smell anything, or spot a whole lot of damage, other than our front end buried in snow. Our back tires looked fine, our body intact.
“Try reversing,” I yelled.
Miles leaned out. “What?”
“I don’t think we’re stuck that bad. Try backing out.”
Miles did as I said, but his tires only spun. He gave it more gas and snow shot up in plumes. I waved for him to stop.
“Stuck in there, huh?” He squeezed out, too. “They’re sending a tow for us, but it could be a while. They’re backed up with the snow, and a couple of roads closed.”
I shivered. My nose was numb, and the tips of my ears. By the time rescue got to us, I’d be an ice cube.
“It’s at least five miles to get back to that gas station.” Miles leaned past me, into the back. “We should put out flares so rescue’ll see us, then get inside and try to stay warm.”
I frowned, but I helped Miles set up the flares. Normally, it’d be a bad idea to stay in a crashed vehicle. A lot of people got killed in secondary collisions, drivers plowing into crashed cars in the dark. But I was shivering so hard I’d bitten my tongue, and not just from shock. The cold was bone-deep. We ringed the scene in LED flares, then piled in the back and shut the doors on the wind.
“Come here,” said Miles, as I dug for a blanket.
“I’m getting us blankets.”
“Sit down a sec.” He patted the bench next to him. I turned and sat down. Miles reached for my arm. “Take off your coat.”
“What?”
“The tablet tore through your sleeve. From the airbag.” He pulled the fabric apart where it was already torn. “I want to look at your arm. Make sure you’re not hurt.”
“I’m all right,” I said, but my voice caught and cracked. Was I okay, or was I just in shock? I’d heard stories of patients torn up inside, bones through their organs, walking around. It was the adrenaline. It blocked out the pain. They stayed on their feet till the rush went away, then they dropped dead.
“I’ll be quick,” said Miles. He unzipped my coat for me and I pulled out my arm. My sweater was ripped, but not the shirt underneath. Miles rolled up both sleeves and breathed a sigh of relief. “You got lucky. That tablet ripped straight through your coat. An inch to the right, and it’d have ripped through you, too.” He brushed the pad of his thumb over my skin, the same spot my tablet had narrowly missed. Goosebumps rose where he touched, though his hand was warm.
“You’re freezing,” Miles said, but my face had gone hot. He leaned past me and pulled out an emergency blanket. It crackled as he settled it over my shoulders. I tried to share it with Miles, but he shrugged it off.
“No, I’m all right.”
“Then why are you shaking?”
I stretched out the blanket and he pulled it around him. He had to edge closer to drape it over his back. His knee bumped on mine and he inhaled sharply.
“Sorry,” he said.
I realized I’d stopped breathing. Miles was shoulder-to-shoulder close, my hair in his face. If he turned his head, his lips would graze mine. I felt his breath on my arm when he exhaled, the shift of his bicep as he tugged on the blanket. He leaned back to look at me.
“You’re flushed.”
“From the cold.”
“You weren’t out there that long.”
“Then, uh…” I swallowed. My mouth had gone dry. Miles slid his hand up to cup my cheek. I turned my head without thinking, my lips to his palm, and when I turned back, his dark eyes were blazing. He ran his hand up my cheek, then through my hair, working my clip loose. It clacked on the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“Your hair clip was loose.” His voice was so low it was almost a growl, rough in his throat, his breath on my ear. A shiver ran through me, all the way to my toes. I knew I should shift back, push his hand off. It was what we’d agreed on. I’d said it myself. But that look in his eyes, the sound of his breath, the heat of him next to me filled me with want. And his hand was still tangled up in my hair, pulling me closer. Or was I leaning in? His lips moved, but no words came out, and then we were kissing. Miles was pushing my jacket off. I shoved my hands under his. He hissed from the cold of them, then kissed me again.
“Warm you up,” he gasped between kisses.
I ran my hands up his back, mapping his muscles. Each one twitched in turn from the shock of the cold, then relaxed as I stroked him and massaged his tense back. His kisses trailed down my neck and a line of heat followed. I arched my back as he pushed up my shirt. The contrast of hot and cold made me tremble, his lips on my bare skin, the chill in the air.
“Bruises,” said Miles. His breath tickled.
“What?”
“From your seat belt.” He traced them up, with one fingertip, over my shoulder. I unzipped his jacket. Tugged his sweater aside.
“You’ve got them too.”
“Yeah?” He rid himself of his sweater in one easy motion and looked down at himself. “Eh. Could be worse.”
“A lot worse,” I said, and ran my hand down his chest. His pecs were surreal, movie-star perfect. The sort of perfection you’d think was airbrushed. I had to touch them to make sure they were real, then touch them again for the sound he made, half-moan, half-curse, deep in his chest. The blanket slipped off him and down to the floor. When I reached to retrieve it he caught me in a kiss. I melted into it and into him, and he laid me down across the bench. It was too short to stretch out and my legs hung off the side, and Miles had to kneel over me with one boot on the ground. I dragged him down anyway, his skin hot on mine.
“Sophie,” he whispered, my first name for once. I’d always been Reeves to him, at least on the job. Which we still were, but rescue felt far away. Everything did but his body on mine. My senses were full of him, and I couldn’t think. All I could do was want him and reach for him. Run my hands through his hair. Nip at his lips.
“Sophie.” He rocked back, all breathless from kissing. “Should we be doing this?”
The answer was obvious. No, we shouldn’t. We should be up by the radio waiting on updates. Watching the road for oncoming hazards. But my body was tingling with the thrill of survival. Of being alive and not dead in the road. The world seemed more present, brighter. More real. Miles in my arms seemed to radiate life. I needed to be with him and take him all in.
“I need you,” I gasped.
Miles ground up against me. My head bumped the wall. I didn’t care, but Miles sat me up. He swung me into his lap and kissed his way down my chest, teasing his way along the line of my bra. I moaned at the heat of his tongue through the lace, then the chill of the air when he pulled back. I was freezing and burning, panting for more, pressing into his arms to share in his heat.
“Sophie…”
I reached down and unzipped his pants, and took hold of his cock. It throbbed in my hand. I could feel his pulse pounding, his rushing desire, and I wanted him so much I couldn’t breathe.
“Cold hands,” Miles said.
“Then warm me up.”
He thrust up with a groan, into my hand. I stroked him and he shuddered and grabbed up his coat. He draped it over my shoulders, stretched out on his back, and the sleeves brushed the bench as I followed him down.
“Do you have protection?”
“Yeah, in my bag.” He leaned down to get one and I wriggled out of my pants. Miles tore the pack open and slipped on a rubber. I straddled him awkwardly on the narrow bench, and he held me steady as I slid down his shaft. A wave of pleasure washed through me as he bucked up to meet me. I closed my eyes and saw stars, and grabbed his shoulders for balance. His thumbs dug into the meat of my hips. I heard someone panting and realized it was me, my breath coming so hard it sounded like sobs.
I rode him hard with the bench cold and slick on my knees, his hands hot and eager on my hips and my back. Every sound he made rumbled up from his chest, and I felt the vibration straight down to my toes. I felt every groan, every gasp, every hitch, and all I could think of was, I needed more. More of his sounds, and his hands, and his lips. More of his body pressed up against mine.
“Oh, God, is that—” Miles froze mid-thrust.
“What?”
“The radio.”
We both held our breath, straining to hear. Up front, a branch scratched against the windshield.
“Was that what you heard?”
Miles frowned. “I don’t know.”
“Well…”
“Fuck it. Who cares?” He lifted me up and flipped me onto my back, my legs wrapped around him, his hand braced on the wall. Then he slammed into me so deep my head spun. Heat crashed through me in waves and I felt my toes curl. Who cared? Not me, not one little bit. All that mattered to me was Miles in my arms, his racing pulse next to mine, his hand in my hair. He was holding my head to keep it from bumping. Twisting my hair as our rhythm picked up. It hurt in a good way and I moaned his name. He gasped mine, then shouted it, and then he went still. I felt the shudder run through him, and then through me, a tide of completion that took us by storm. It crashed over and through us and left us spent.
Miles rolled to one side of me and dragged the blanket up over us, but it was cold from the floor and I squirmed in his arms. He held me close till I felt his pulse slow.
“We should get dressed,” he said.
I didn’t think I could move.
“Reeves? You awake?”
I chuckled into his chest. “We’re back to last names?”
“ Sophie . Get dressed.”
“Ugh. Do I have to?” I didn’t want to shake free of his arms. The minute I did, we’d be back to coworkers, and I didn’t want that. I wanted more. I wanted his hand on the back of my head, keeping me from bumping up on the shelf. I wanted that kindness he kept hidden away, and I wanted it every day, not just this once.
The radio crackled, this time for real. Miles let me go, and we both scrambled up. He jerked his pants up while I searched for mine. When I closed my eyes, I could still feel his touch, and my whole body ached for it.
“Fifteen minutes,” called Miles. “They’re on their way.”
I should have been relieved, but what I felt was loss.
What I wanted was more of Miles. All I could get.