Chapter 15 #2
“No doubt,” he says. “It’s safe to assume they’re already performing preliminary radius searches, but it won’t take long before they expand it.
Those sniffer dogs don’t fuck around. They’ll get my scent, but we’ve gotta be gone before that happens.
Not to mention, they’ll quickly realize I’m not alone.
Your body wouldn’t have been accounted for. They’ll know I’ve taken you.”
“Shit.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“But they won’t be able to track me, right? They have nothing to get my scent.”
“You had a blazer at some point. That’s gone,” he murmurs. “Plus, you must have driven to the prison. Where’d you put your keys? In a handbag? Trust me, they’ll get your scent.”
“Fuck, I—”
“Shhhhhh.”
My back stiffens, and in an instant, Stone is pressed against me, his hands gripping my waist as though preparing to defend me.
“What is it?” I whisper, my eyes darting around the woods, hoping like fuck I’m not about to face down a sniper rifle.
His fingers tighten on my waist as my heart races, fear seeping through my veins. “You hear that?”
I listen closely, but I’m not getting anything other than the normal sounds I’m supposed to hear in a forest. Birds chirping. Leaves rustling. Frogs calling. Water trickling—wait. Water?
“Holy shit,” I breathe. “There’s water.”
“Mm-hmm.”
My head whips around, searching through the trees, trying to find which direction it’s coming from. “Where?”
“My guess, straight ahead.”
Relief pounds through my body, and I pick up my pace, all but racing toward the sound.
It’s been way too long since I last drank water.
My body is on the brink of giving in. Not to mention, I stink.
No, stink isn’t even brutal enough. I reek.
We both do. After crawling through the dead-rat museum, and then scrounging through old, moldy sewer lines for twenty miles, there are some smells no human should ever have to live with, and this is it.
Though that wretched smell might just be enough to mask us from the sniffer dogs. I hope.
We walk for another twenty minutes, and with every step I take, the subtle trickle of water becomes a strong rush. “Oh, thank God,” I groan as we finally find the flowing creek and walk right up to its shore.
I go to stop, to drop to my knees and desperately inhale the water like it’s my lifeblood, but Stone captures my waist and keeps me moving. “Not here,” he says. “The water’s moving too fast, and that’s all leading somewhere.”
My brow arches, and I find myself eagerly following the rushing creek. Could there be a whole pool of water somewhere?
Every passing minute, the creek widens until finally, it falls right off the edge into a large body of crystal clear, deep water below. Happiness rushes through me, and my eyes fill with tears at the mere sight. It’s my fucking salvation.
Need swarms through me as Stone cuts ahead, trying to figure out the easiest way down the edge of the cliff to the water.
It takes a lifetime, but the promise of clean water keeps me going.
We jump down large rocks, Stone having to help me at times, and after climbing over fallen trees and squeezing through scratchy bushes, we finally make it to the secluded water.
Relief pulses through my veins, and as I walk right up to the edge of the rippling water, I sink to my knees and scoop it into my hands. I drink up as Stone stands behind me, watching my desperate performance.
“Don’t drink too much of that,” he tells me. “It might look clean, but there’s no telling what’s in that water.”
Shit. The rational part of me knows he’s right, but the desperate woman inside of me who has put her body through hell and back over the past twenty-four hours can’t possibly listen to reason.
My hands sink into the water, my knees brace against the shore, getting wet, and as I stare at the cool, clear water that holds the promise of a bath, I can’t possibly resist.
I glance back at Sergeant Killjoy, already getting to my feet and reaching for the hem of my torn shirt. “I’m getting in.”
He arches a brow, and as if seeing some kind of determination in my eyes, he doesn’t even attempt to stop me.
I feel his hot stare on my body as I peel my dirty shirt over my head before clutching it in my hand and reaching for the buttons of my pants. I start undoing them as I step out of my sneakers, and then finally, I stand at the water’s edge in nothing but my black thong and matching bra.
I know his eyes are on me. I feel them like lasers on my body, but I can’t bring myself to care as I wade into the clear water, taking the dirty outfit with me. Every step into the relaxing water is like claiming a slice of heaven.
“Oh God, yes!” I groan, walking right in until my shoulders are covered, sinking under the water and letting it wash through my filthy hair.
Stone doesn’t take his eyes off me, and as I discreetly glance back over my shoulder, a strange tension builds between us. Goose bumps sail across my skin, and I’m suddenly very aware that I’m the first woman he’s truly laid eyes on in over seven long years.
A heated desire pools in his eyes, and as I hold his stare, the tension only grows, threatening to snap like the silence right before a deadly storm.
My heart races, but I turn away, unable to handle the wicked need building deep inside me.
I can’t cross that line with him. I’m his hostage for fuck’s sake, not to mention, we have history.
I don’t even know where the boundaries are here.
Is this a strict foster brother and sister kind of relationship, or have the lines blurred before?
Hell, keeping in mind that he’s six-seven, a man like that is definitely packing some serious heat. He’d tear me to shreds.
Stone hasn’t been with a woman for so long that surely there’s a ferocious need there.
When he takes somebody, it’s not going to be gentle.
It’ll be hard and raw. He won’t hold back, and that .
. . fuck. Why do I want to know what that’d be like?
He could have taken me at any point since we escaped the prison, but he hasn’t.
There’s no denying it, Stone Blackthorne is an animal, but not like the animals that were grabbing at me back in that prison.
Swallowing over the lump in my throat, I focus on the wet clothes in my hand, trying to scrub the stench out of them, but my heart never stops racing.
Not when he starts peeling off his orange jumpsuit, not when he wades into the water, and certainly not when his stare becomes so heated that I can barely think straight.
There’s silence between us, but that silence has never been so loud.
He dips under the water, letting it wash right over his face, the same way I had, and I take my chance to step out of the water before hanging my clothes over a low-lying branch. They’re not perfect, but they’re a million times better than what they were.
I ease back into the water as my clothes begin to dry.
Today isn’t exactly the hottest day, but the material is thin enough that it shouldn’t take long.
Stone hangs his wet jumpsuit over a fallen log, the bottom of it still dragging the dirty ground, and I shake my head.
I swear, men just don’t care about shit like this.
He hangs a white tank beside it, and just like me, he wades back into the water, keeping his distance as he stands waist deep.
I keep going, sinking as deep as my ribcage before tipping my head back, lifting my legs, and floating across the surface.
With the sun warm on my face, I enjoy the weightlessness that finally gives my feet a break.
My calves and quads have been burning for well over twenty-four hours.
There’s a reason I haven’t taken on the hiking lifestyle.
It’s not me. Not by a long shot. My daily exercise consists of lifting things to my mouth.
Coffee. Food. Cocks. All my favorite things.
“We need to find a small town,” he tells me, finally breaking the tension-filled silence. “There has to be somewhere close. We need different clothes. Food and clean water. Maybe cut your hair. Steal a box of hair dye. Brunette maybe. It’s too recognizable the way it is.”
Unease settles through me, and I lower my feet back to the sandy lakebed before turning to face him and really taking him in. Droplets of water linger on his bare skin, and fuck, he’s absolutely delicious.
His skin is covered in ink, full sleeves of tattoos cover both arms, leading right up over his chest and to his neck.
If I were a braver woman, I’d study each one of them, committing them to memory.
His chest is defined, proof of how much time he’s spent working on himself over these past seven years.
His abs are tight like woven steel beneath his skin, and I track every last one of them, sailing all the way down to the deep V low on his pelvis.
He’s flawless, and the way he watches me in return tells me he has a few thoughts on my body too, but I don’t want to know them. With my gaze locked on his body, I move through the water, taking my time until I stand right before him, my hungry stare eating him up like the starved woman I am.
Sucking in a nervous breath, I lift my hand, laying it against his warm chest before trailing it across the defined lines of his muscles, soaking in every last inch of him. He doesn’t make a move to touch me. Just watches me in return, waiting for whatever it is I’ve come here for.
The tension skyrockets between us, and as my fingers trail across his decorated skin, fire burns deep in the pit of my core, desperate to feel the way this beast would fill me.
My hand pushes up to his throat, my thumb brushing across the ink as I explore.
When I trail my palm back down to his shoulder and follow it to his massive bicep, my heated gaze collides with his, and it’s like lightning finally meeting its match.
I inch closer, my chest brushing across his warm skin as I keep my stare locked on his, desperate to feel his hands on my body.
“Let me make one thing clear, we are not in this together. I’m your hostage, so be it, a willing one at this particular moment, but a hostage all the same.
I am not cutting my hair and dying it to make life easier for you.
I will keep my mouth shut, I’ll be a good little hostage, but the moment the cops catch up to us, I’m out.
I’m going back to the life that I worked my ass off to build.
I know there’s history between us, but the truth of the matter is, I don’t know who you are.
I don’t owe you my loyalty. Not anymore. ”
And with that, I stride out of the water, grab my almost dry clothes off the low-hanging branch, and disappear into the bushes beyond, his sharp stare tracking my every step.