Chapter 8
Chapter eight
Garrett
There’s a warm, hard body plastered to my back and a jogger covered leg over my hip.
My cock is hard and my skin sweaty and I don’t dare move for fear of waking Roman.
I like the feel of him against me more than I care to admit.
When he came through last night, his skin was pale in the light of the bedside lamp, and he had wide, frightened eyes.
Everything in me screamed to make sure he was okay.
After a long discussion about Big Foot and wolves and the overall dangers of the woods, Roman fell asleep.
Though I’m sure his fear of the storm and the unknown outside goes deeper than he’s letting on.
He lay with his face towards me, his hair spread over the pillow and his hand next to mine.
So close that our pinkies touched. I wanted to wrap my hand around his.
But wouldn’t that be a ridiculous thing to do?
We barely know each other. Mother Nature, or fate, or a poorly functioning computer system threw us together, but that doesn’t mean he’s out here looking to hook up.
Especially not with someone like me. Old and boring.
And now? Now, this sexy, sweet man is wrapped around me like a koala and I refuse to move and let the connection between us end.
I’ve never been with someone who cuddles as intensely as Roman does, stuck to my back all night, at least one hand holding onto some part of me while he slept. I will admit, I like it. A lot.
His warm breath ghosts my ear, setting off goosebumps over my skin, and I rest a hand on his leg, absentmindedly massaging his calf.
“Hmmm, don’t stop,” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. “Too nice.”
Roman shuffles closer, the rigidness of his morning wood pressing against my back. The awareness of it makes my own cock throb. I should get up. I should get up and take care of this in the shower. Alone.
“Gare Bear,” he says, his lips right at my ear, his hand now on my hip. “Thank you for letting me cuddle you last night.” He rolls away from me before I can reply, and I whine inside, my body missing the feel of him.
Fuck fuckity fuck. Have I gone and caught feelings for the little intruder?
I move my head against the pillow, blaming my lack of a sex life for the past few months for my sudden influx feelings towards the guy.
I roll onto my other side, watching as he climbs out of the bed, subtly adjusting himself. He’s wearing purple Christmas pajamas. With reindeers and gift-wrapped boxes printed on them. They’re far too big, hanging on his lithe frame, but they look comfortable and he looks adorable.
I clear my throat. “It’s no problem.”
His cheeks are flushed pink as he points to the bedroom door.
“I’m going to take a shower and have a bowl of cereal. If the rain has stopped, I’ll head off into the village after breakfast.”My stomach sinks.
I sit up, keeping the duvet covering my crotch.
“Even if the rain has let up, you should probably give the ground a day or two to dry. There’s a risk of mudslides after a storm like that.”
His eyes widen, and I hate I put more fear in them. I don’t even know if my comment is true, but I’d be lying if I pretended I didn’t know where the comment came from.
“Oh. Okay. Well, if you don’t mind –”
“I don’t,” I rush to say. “When it looks safe, I’ll walk into the village with you.”
He smiles and dips his head, then retreats to the shower.
I listen to the sound of the water running while I take my cock in hand and work myself over fast and hard, the image of a blue-haired troublemaker in my mind.
I let out a groan, holding in the desire to shout his name, and spill my hot seed over my stomach, just as I hear the click of the bathroom door.
“There’s been another photo left in his house.
This time on the kitchen counter while he was in the shower,” Jill Parker says to her partner, Jack.
DI Sniper sits up straighter, reaching his hand out to take the page from her.
An unexpected wave of anger washes over him as he looks at the polaroid of Blaine, lying on his sofa, wrapped in a purple blanket while his eyes are closed.
The glow of the television can be seen to the left of the photo. The stalker was in his house again.
“I don’t understand how he got in. Blaine had the locks changed and there’s an active neighbourhood watch in his area. How has no one seen anything?”
Jill sighs, rubbing a hand through her long blonde hair.
“I don’t know. Forensics found no unknown DNA in the house. No fingerprints or tread marks, nothing to say there was even someone else in the house besides Blaine.”
Jack taps his fingers on his desk.
“We need him to move out. Or have the Captain put a detail on his house.”
Jill shakes her head. “Cap says that’s not in the budget and Blaine is refusing to let the guy scare him out of his home. His best bet now is to hire a bodyguard.”
“I’ll do it,” Jack declares, surprising them both. “I’ll protect him.”
My eyes shoot from the page in front of me, to where Roman is spread out on the floor, his head bent over another one of his mangas while alternating between talking to himself and humming along to the Michael Bublé Christmas CD playing on low.
He’s still in his reindeer pajamas despite it being late afternoon.
We ate breakfast together and then I retreated to my desk and he to that spot. In the time since, he’s moved between playing cards, reading, writing something in a notebook, and drinking tea. Oh, and consuming his body weight in biscuits.
I look at the selection of biscuits in front of me, and the cold cup of tea he handed me hours earlier. My stomach clenches with hunger and I pick up a Rich Tea biscuit and eat it, then move through the rest of the selection.
“Taking a break?” Roman asks, moving into a seated position in front of the fire. His fringe falls in front of his face and he flicks his head to move it to the side.
“I think so.” I stand and stretch, moving my neck this way and that to work out the muscles.
Roman climbs onto the sofa, leaning against the arm as he watches me push the chair beneath the desk.
“Do you want to do something together?” he asks, his eyes bright and sparkling.
“Play a game, watch a film, or…” he does a ‘come here’ motion with his fingers and I move closer.
He drops his voice as though someone may overhear what he has to say.
“I read a book about Kama Sutra once. We could try out some of those.” Heat rushes from the tips of my toes to the top of my ears and I cough on my surprise.
“I’m joking!” Roman lifts his hands, then slaps them down on his knees.
“Liam says my mouth is going to get me in trouble one day.” The smile on his face drops when he adds, “I’m sorry.
I told myself I would not flirt with you.
But it’s hard when you’re like my perfect type.
Besides not being a lumberjack, that is.
Ignore me.” He makes a zipping gesture in front of his lips.
“A lumberjack?” I ask when what I really wanted to delve into was me being his perfect type. Maybe outwardly, but does he know how boring I am? And why the fuck did the voice in my head sound like Nico just then?
He chews on the strings of his hoodie.
“It’s a fantasy thing. Like I said, ignore me.”
“Okay. But just so you know, I don’t mind your flirting. It’s been a while since anyone has flirted with me,” I admit, biting back my desire to ask him more about this fantasy and about what other fantasies he has. Maybe we share some of the same.
“Oh. Well. Silly people,” Roman replies.
“I was kidding, though. About the Kama Sutra. I’m not that forward, and I don’t actually know anything about it.
” He gets to his feet. “I’m not kidding about the movie or game, if you’re interested.
” Roman moves closer to the fire, where he bends towards it and rubs his hands above the dying flame.
“Ooh,” he spins on his heels, his lips set in a beaming smile.
“Want to go in the hot tub?”
My nose wrinkles instinctively at the suggestion.
“Um, no thanks. Hot tubs are bacteria infested pools of human soup.”
He barks out a laugh, his hand covering his mouth, his eyes twinkling with joy.
“You’re serious?”
“Absolutely serious. You won’t catch me in one of those petri-dishes.”
“Well, that is unexpected. Why did you pick a cottage with a hot tub, then?”
“My agent chose it. I would never get in one,” I reply with adamant certainty.
“Your loss!” he says, literally bouncing towards the door of the lounge. Now that he has his mind set on this, his energy is buzzing out of him like sparks from a broken cable. “I’m going to soak my bones in human soup for a while. And a word of warning –”
He strips his hoodie off and drops it to the floor. I move without thinking, picking it up and neatly hang it over the back of the sofa. His lips tip up on one side before he removes his t-shirt and drops it on the floor, too.
I glare at him, my eyes darting from his, warm with challenge, and then back to the crumpled fabric on the floor.
I hate mess; I hate things being out of place.
My body is physically begging me to bend down and pick it up.
But then his grin widens and his fingers wrap around the waistband of his joggers, and I know he’s enjoying messing with me.
And maybe – by the way my heart is picking up speed – I’m enjoying it too.
“As I was saying,” he shimmies his joggers lower, “a word of warning. I didn’t bring a swimsuit because I never intended to have company.” With that, he strips his joggers off completely, leaving him in only a purple jockstrap, and expanses of smooth fair skin.
He kicks the fabric across the floor and saunters away.
I watch. My eyes fixed on his gorgeous form until he’s out of sight.
Letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, I bend down, pick up his discarded clothing and hang them over the sofa, my cock hard and throbbing in my boxers and my certainty that I’ll never get in a hot tub wavering.