Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
STORM
I blink as the bright daylight stings my eyes.
The sound of soft light snoring startles me for a moment.
Last night replays in my mind, waking me further.
I blink again and slowly lift my head. Drix’s arm is still wrapped around me tightly, but he must have moved us so we were lying across the couch.
Lying on his back, his mouth slightly parted, his dark hair a tousled mess.
His thick dark eyelashes are kissing the top of his cheeks as he sleeps.
Beautiful. A soft smile plays on my lips, and I lean up and press a soft kiss to his cheek.
He had held me, soothed me through my terrors, keeping the demon that haunts my dreams away. He stirs.
I tense and quickly rest my head back on his chest where I was.
He lets out a deep sleepy groan, his arms tightening around me, pressing his body into mine.
“Hhhmmm,” he moans. My eyes go wide as I feel something very hard poking into me.
His hands begin to lazily roam over me. I freeze, unsure what to do.
He’s obviously still sleeping or half asleep and thinks he’s at home with Ginny.
His hand trails over my hip, over my stomach, until his thumb strokes the underside over my breast.
“Um, Drix,” I call out.
“Hhhmmm,” he mumbles, his thumb still caressing the soft flesh.
I swallow, my cheeks heating. “Drix! I yell, startling him. His body tenses, freezing in place. I look up at him, and he blinks, frowning as he looks down on me. After taking a moment to realise where he is and who he is with, his eyes widen.
“Shit,” he murmurs, removing his hands and holding them up in the air. “Shit, Storm, fuck!” he hisses.
I push myself up, my body stiff and aching more this morning from falling asleep on the couch. I wince slightly, biting down the pain in my ribs. If they would just hurry up and heal, I can handle the rest.
Drix sits up, resting his head in his hands. I place my palm on his back, but he jumps up like my touch is a red-hot poker. “Sorry, Storm, fuck,” he grits out, gripping his hair.
He paces back and forth. “I can’t believe I fucking violated you like that, with everything. All that you went through just last night. Fuck, your dad is going to kill me,” he rants.
I watch him go back and forth, not paying him any attention as I fight to hold back my laughter.
Clasping my hand over my mouth, a loud snort escapes.
His head snaps in my direction, arching a brow, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.
I allow the laughter to flow and point, as I don’t have the ability to speak.
He follows to where I’m pointing, down to the huge hard bulge poking out of his jeans. “Shit!” He whirls around, facing away from me while I fall back on the couch laughing. “You know, laughing at my dick is cruel,” he snaps.
I keep laughing to the point it causes me pain. Wiping my eyes, I look up at him.
He turns, looking at me, his eyes shining with laughter. He shakes his head. “Only you could laugh at my fucking dick.” He tuts with a shit-eating grin across his lips.
I sigh. “I needed that.”
He turns around, his bulge now deflated. “Glad my dick could be of assistance,” he quips.
“Right, who knew you could bring joy without shoving it in every hole that has a pulse?” I stand and steadily make my way to the bathroom, my body feeling like it’s a hundred years old.
“Do you need help?” Drix asks, the laughter dying from his voice.
I glance at him. “No, I’m going to pee. Go put the coffee on.” I gesture to the kitchen.
“Yes, boss.” He salutes, making me smile yet again.
We sit in the kitchen drinking coffee. Drix did attempt to make pancakes, but in the process, he nearly set fire to the entire house. So, I took over and cooked some bacon and eggs, with him hovering around me asking if I was okay every five minutes.
His cell pings on the counter, and I chance a look and see Ginny’s name. I look away and drink my coffee, pretending I haven’t seen it. He just swipes her name away and turns his phone face down. I don’t know why that makes me happy. It just does.
“We are going out this Saturday, just to the bar in town. You should come.”
I shake my head. “No.” I pause. “This isn’t a good look, and people judge us enough as it is. They see the bruises, then who knows what they will think,” I point out.
He shakes his head. “Since when have you cared what other people think? Fuck ‘em!”
I nibble on my bottom lip. “I don’t know,” I say warily.
He rolls his eyes. “You never gave a shit what anyone thought. Why start now? We will all be there with you.” He pauses for a moment, and as I look from my coffee cup to him, his intense blue eyes set me on fire.
“I want you there,” he says with a raw sincerity.
I swallow and give a small nod. He grins. “Good.”
The front door opens, and Mom and Dad walk in. I look at the clock, surprised that it was already midday. Dad looks from me to Drix. “All good?” he asks.
Drix stands straight and nod. “All good.”
Mom presses a kiss to my cheek. “You want some lunch?” she asks. “Who burnt my favourite pan?!” she yells.
“That’s my queue to leave,” Drix says, fighting back a smile.
“I will see you out.” I chuckle, following him.
I stand at the door as he turns on the front step to face me. “Your mom is going to hunt me for ruining her pan, isn’t she?” He laughs.
I nod. “Most definitely. You should look at changing your identity,” I tease. His grin deepens, revealing the deep dimple on his right cheek.
He steps closer, his hand cautiously reaching out to cup my cheek, as if he’s waiting for me to flinch away.
I don’t. I see the relief in his eyes when I don’t.
He leans in closer, and I hold my breath, thinking he’s about to kiss me.
I’m unsure if I want him to or not. No, of course not. It’s too soon.
But it’s Drix.
He pauses, as if contemplating his choice before diverting and pressing his lips to my cheek. He swiftly steps back, and my face feels cold at the loss of his touch. “Good to have some of you back, BB.” He winks before making his way down the steps to his bike.
Exhaling a slow and steady breath, I close the door and walk back towards the kitchen to take the blame for her beloved pan. My steps falter when I see both Mom and Dad stood there watching. Mom’s grinning like the Cheshire cat, while Dad looks torn between being happy and wanting to commit murder.
I frown at them. “Can I help you?” I ask, arching a brow.
Mom shakes her head. “Nope,” she murmurs, shaking her head back and forth.