Coraline
Ican be a brat. I know I can. I can tell I get under Gavin’s skin easily. I can also confirm with myself that his cheeks flushed red when we were in the hallway.
He’s attracted to me.
And I am to him.
He’s…hot. His voice makes my heart skip a beat.
Those light blue eyes bring me peace, and just the way he moves, his muscular shoulders sway, full of confidence and control.
He’s a gentleman. In the beginning, he came off as a grumpy asshole, but there’s a switch, and I’m not complaining or asking why.
Everything about him attracts me like a moth to a flame, but I know if I get too close, I’ll burn.
I see how Georgia can’t take her eyes off him, how upset and hurt she was when he turned her down. There has to be history there.
I also noticed his handsome face turn stone cold when I admitted I’m married. I hated myself after I said it. I wanted to explain everything. How yes, I’m still married, but I’m also technically single.
Fuck Liam. I feel pathetic for still wearing a ring that holds false promises and broken memories when I know he probably wore his ring proudly while he had sex with my best friend.
I still care about him. Regardless of how deeply he cut me.
I still care, and I hate myself for it. Maybe it makes me stupid, but I think more than anything, it makes me human.
I was loyal to him, and it hurts. I’ve been moving on, rightfully so, but it doesn’t mean the dream I had, to be married to someone I thought I could trust, died with him right away when his affair came to light.
I wish it did. I wish the feelings and memories never existed.
Liam did a number on my confidence. I don’t have any left, and I’m trying to get it back.
When Gavin asked if I was married, I couldn’t lie.
So, I kept half the truth. I don’t know if I’m ready to look at another man with irrefutable lust, but I’m doing it now, and there are ounces of guilt residing in my loyal heart.
Liam’s been trying to reach out to me with flowers and chocolates to ask for my forgiveness ever since we separated, but I blocked him on everything possible, so he resorts to mail.
I can’t block him from using the postal service, and I don’t have enough money to move, so it all ends up in the trash.
Tossing and turning underneath the blankets, I stop when I face a sleeping Gavin. He’s on his back, his white shirt hugging his ab muscles.
Damn it, why does he look even sexier asleep?
Fuck me and my morals.
I stare at the ceiling, placing my hands on my chest, and count sheep as the sounds of the snowstorm lull my anxieties away. The high-pitched winds, the sound of ice pelting the windows, and the occasional strange creaks and thumping off the cabin. It all turns into white noise.
Maybe Gavin’s right. Perhaps the guy who was after me ran off when he saw Gavin for the second time. Either way, when the snow clears, I’m filing a police report and getting the hell away from Sleepy Coldwater.
My fear is slipping away with Gavin’s help. I haven’t seen another spirit appearing out of the walls, and I don’t feel that eerie sense of being watched. The dreary undercurrent of this place is gone, and instead, a spark that brews with the beat of my heart replaces it.
My sore body begins to melt into the mattress and soft blankets as I drift away in my head, growing sleepier by the second.
It has to be lonely up here for him.
He says everyone is scared of him, and my curiosity grows.
I mean, he can be a grumpy ass.
My stomach turns as butterflies flock in my gut as I remember the way his chiseled body felt against mine when he used his own body heat to warm me up. The way he stayed respectful when he undressed me melted me.
I blink at him through the darkness, the moon peeking through the window against his face.
Maybe we can be friends?
A rush of nirvana pulls through me and grabs me by the throat. The longer I watch him sleep, I picture him close up again, replaying the way he held me, and the way a look of desire flashed across his stony face.
Yeah…
I like him.
I wake to a loud sound that only resembles an explosion.
I jolt against something hard. I’m too tired to open my eyes, so I nestle further into the soft, cloudy, fuzzy blankets.
I haven’t slept this comfortably and peacefully since Liam’s betrayal, and that was months ago.
I slowly drift deeper into sleep again when the fuzzy blankets move…
Wait. It’s not fuzzy anymore. They’re hard. Like rock-solid hard.
Like a muscular man, hard, and my heart does that stupid thing where it skips a beat when I’m around a specific person.
My lids fly open.
I’m right.
Gavin is asleep, beneath me. He’s facing the wall, so I get a glimpse of his perfect, strong jawline. Several silver strands intertwined in his dark beard catch my attention. One of his arms is hovering over my waist, his fingers on my hips, gripping me in his sleep.
When did he get into my bed? And why?
I don’t mind it all, but how did this happen?
He twitches in his sleep, and his other hand grazes my arms, keeping me pinned to his abs.
His rough, calloused palms leave sparks in their wake.
My nose brushes against his hard stomach—his scent running into my senses, and his cologne mixed with his natural smell still remains strong.
It’s becoming my favorite scent lately. The kind that makes me want to savor it and not let go.
“You were crying in your sleep,” he mumbles. His deep voice reverberates through his chest while he keeps his blue eyes sealed.
Oh?
“You asked me to come into bed with you.”
“I did?” I hold my gasp. “So you listened to someone who is half-conscious?”
“It was the only way I could get some rest. So yes, Coraline, I did,” he mumbles with annoyance in his tone.
Ass.
My brows knit together as I remain still as a statue, trying to remember.
It all comes back to me.
I woke in the middle of the night, having another nightmare. This time, I dreamt of a masked man chasing me through the snow, wielding a butcher’s knife.
I remember waking up to Gavin’s hand on my shoulder. The rest is a bit fuzzy, but I vaguely remember asking him to come into bed with me. He stood silently as I waited for his answer in the dark. I guess I fell back to sleep before I could get his reply.
Five minutes go by, and I hear light snoring coming through his sleeping face. He’s too handsome. The kind that’s unfair because he could make any girl melt with just one glance.
He’s back to sleep. There’s a soft, baby silver-blue glow peeking through the window blinds. The sun is rising. The whistling of the windstorms is still present, acting like white noise to my thundering heartbeat. I don’t want to move.
I blink slowly and raise my head to face him.
My leg is swung over his middle, and the only reason I know this is because something hard pokes through his sweatpants and spears my midsection.
When I brush against it to stretch, a low, feral, deep groan slips into my ears.
His chest vibrates against my cheek, and heat creeps into my face when he makes that desirable deep growl.
I freeze my movements, too afraid to wake him.
The man intimidates me whenever he sets those blue eyes on me.
I can’t handle it if he wakes up now and all my morals go out the window.
It’s getting bigger.
I flick my gaze up to his, but I only catch his side profile, the bottom of his bearded jaw, and his wavy, dark hair, sprawled messily. He’s still asleep. His chest rises and falls slowly and deeply.
It’s his ‘morning wood’.
Jesus. He’s…huge. His length is long and thick. His sweatpants accentuate his hard cock. I’m fully awake now, with a fast heart rate and a fire ignited in the pit of my stomach. Heat travels to my cheeks, chest, neck, and between my thighs.
I make a whimpering sound, tugging the inside of my mouth with my teeth.
“Gavin,” I murmur softly and airily, so I don’t scare him. I slowly back away from him and inch to the other side of the bed. I shift my hips and raise his hand over my head to place it back to his side—even though it’s the last thing I want to do.
It’s freezing, which means the fire from the living room must have burnt out a while ago.
He slowly turns and fixates on me. A warm smile pulls on his lips, and his sleepy eyes look me up and down.
“What is it?” I ask.
He clears his throat and gazes away at the other side of the room. While his eyes look anywhere but me, he reaches for my bicep and pulls my shirt back up. Half of my breast was exposed, and half of my nipple peeked through. He raises the strap over my shoulder and covers me back up.
“Oh.”
He stands from the bed, and his bulge is bigger than before—holy monster thick dick.
I feel like I’m seeing one for the first time.
In a way, it does feel that way. I’ve never been with a man with this length before, and that’s because his clothes are straining it.
I thought Liam’s was average, but this? I mean, I’ve only ever heard my friends talk about being with hung men, but this?
“Oh,” he mirrors my shocked tone, gazing at his boner. He rounds the bed and moves past me.
“It’s okay,” I reassure him, trying to kill the awkwardness with a forced anxious grin. “I know that happens sometimes.” I rock on my heels anxiously, shaking my head.
What a stupid thing to say, Coraline.
He swings open the door and takes one last look at me. He deadpans, a flicker of restraint when he curls his massive fists into balls as he tries to hide his growing bulge. Geez, it’s getting bigger? A tingling sensation swims down my body.
“Yeah.” His eyes darken before he walks away.
The door clicks shut.