11. Oliver
Silence.
“It’s passing,” I whisper against her ear. “Or maybe the worst already did.”
She’s clinging to the steel pipe with one arm, the other wrapped around my waist.
I don’t know if she’s trying to protect me or if she just needs something to hold on to.
The debris hitting the barn is softer now, farther apart, and the air has changed—less pressure, less roar.
So I ease my grip, realizing I’ve practically pinned her against the beam.
“No!” she cries, clutching my leg. “Don’t leave.”
“I’m not,” I tell her quickly. I can tell by the silence—the tornado’s gone, or it’s moved somewhere else. “You okay?”
She nods fast, but I can feel her shaking. Her whole-body trembles undermine.
“The animals…” she says, her voice breaking.
“They’re fine,” I lie. “What matters is they’re safe, and so are we.”
She nods again, still trembling. I’ve never seen her like this—so terrified, so small.
I loosen my hold on the pipe and wrap my arms around her shoulders instead. At first, she tenses… then slowly melts against me. Her warmth seeps through, steady and real, grounding me in a way I haven’t felt in years.
“Cala,” I murmur, my voice low. “I need to go check outside.”
“What if it comes back?”
“Unlikely.”
Her hands tremble as she unties the rope I’d looped around her waist—just in case the wind tried to carry her away. I do the same with mine, and when we finally let go, we both sit down on the dusty floor, catching our breath.
Tornados in this area aren’t usually violent.
But this one came close. Too close.
The barn’s quiet except for the creak of the beams and her uneven breathing.
Then I hear soft, muffled sob.
I glance over and see her crying openly, tears cutting through the dirt on her face.
Something tightens in my chest, and before I even think about it, I pull her into me.
She doesn’t hesitate. Just folds into my arms, small and breakable. And for the first time in a long, long while, I let someone stay there.
“Thank you,” she sobs against my chest.
“For what?”
“For keeping me safe.”
My first instinct is to tell her she’s wrong; she doesn’t need me, she never did.
But the words never make it past my lips.
Because when she looks up at me, eyes red and glassy, everything inside me goes quiet.
I lift a hand and brush away the tears on her cheek. Her skin is warm, trembling under my fingers.
It’s reckless.
It’s stupid.
But something in me—maybe the adrenaline, maybe the relief of still being alive—urges me forward anyway.
Before I can think, before I can stop myself, I lean in and decide that for once, I’ll deal with the consequences later.
I press my lips to hers carefully, testing the ground, trying to read her—trying to know if this is what she wants too. Cala closes her eyes and clings to my shoulders, standing on her toes to reach me.
The softness of her mouth ignites something deep inside me, a fire that’s different, that’s real. Her breath mixes with mine, and the kiss grows hot, urgent, like we’re both trying to erase the fear we just lived through.
Her fingers twist in my shirt, and for a moment I forget about the tornado, the barn—everything. There’s only her lips, warm and trembling, yet sure of what they want.
My heart is pounding out of control.
Damn it.
Her lips are firm, her fingers buried in my hair.
I want to take her right here, make her mine on the hay-covered floor—raw, fast, wild.
Like animals.
My hands slide down to her firm, incredible ass, and I bury my fingers there. I know she can feel my erection, and as my cock rubs against her stomach, she moans from deep in her throat.
I lose my fucking mind.
“Tell me to stop,” I demand between kisses and caresses. “Tell me because I don’t think I’ll be able to later.”
“Don’t stop.” she replies, and that’s all I need to hear to lay her down on a pile of hay on the floor and climb on top of her, holding her captive in my arms. Her hands find the hem of my shirt and slowly pull it up, brushing my body with the knuckles of her slender fingers.
I prepare myself to stop her, to beg her not to touch me, but strangely, I don’t feel a panic attack when I sense her proximity, and that makes me want to know what else I can experience with this woman that I haven’t done before, but at the same time, I don’t want to push it to the edge and break this feeling I have, this animalistic need.
I lift her jacket and T-shirt, exposing her perky breasts in a white bra.
My tongue travels over those mounds while my hand unbuttons her jeans.
She helps me pull them down, leaving her white cotton thong exposed to my eyes.
Immediately afterward, I unbutton my jeans and free my cock.
I need to bury myself between this woman’s legs.
“Condom,” she moans as I brush against her center.
Damn it, the condom! How the hell did I forget the damn condom?
Think, Oliver, think. You’re not usually this impulsive.
“I don’t have one,” I whisper, resting my forehead against hers, my breath ragged and my eyes closed in frustration.
Cala opens her eyes, and I can see her eyelids heavy with lust, and I want to break everything around me for missing out on something like this.
“I...I take the pill,” she says shyly, her pride preventing her from sounding desperate for me, and I won’t allow it, because she’s not the only desperate person in this barn.
“And I’ve never been with anyone without a condom,” I reply, looking into her eyes, analyzing those microseconds where she reveals her true thoughts.
But all I see is acceptance.
Cala moistens her lips, running her tongue over them, and my stomach tightens at the sight of something so erotic.
What I would give to see that tongue on my cock, impossible fantasies for someone like me.
Driven by the intensity of the moment and the acceptance in her eyes, I lean forward, capturing her lips once more in a passionate kiss.
My hand moves with urgency, pushing her thong aside.
Without hesitation, I press myself against her, slowly sinking into her warmth, overwhelmed by the connection and the raw need that pulses between us.
I hiss like an animal when I feel her heat surrounding me; she digs her nails into my back and lets out a shy moan.
“Are you okay?” It feels very tight; I might be hurting her.
Cala Saint-Clair nods and bites her lips, so I push into her slowly to feel every inch around me. I don’t know if it’s because it’s the first time I’ve had sex without a condom, but I’ve never experienced a more delicious sensation.
It overwhelms me.
It consumes me completely.
My mouth seeks hers and we fall into perfect sync as I thrust and she takes all of me.
I hated myself all this time for wanting her, for imagining her beneath me in my bed on more than one occasion, but now that I have her, I want to congratulate myself for not missing out on this ecstasy.
The pressure between us increases.
“Cala...” I moan into her neck, “damn it.”
“You...you...” Her voice cuts off abruptly, she takes a breath and her body tenses.
I can see the wave of pleasure coursing through her body as I thrust into her quickly. Her open mouth, her tightly closed eyes trigger the most intense and explosive orgasm I’ve ever felt.
Shit.
Shit!
Waves and waves of pleasure overwhelm me, and I release myself inside her without mercy.
We both stay quiet, trying to catch our breath—trying to come back to ourselves. When we finally open our eyes, they find each other again, and just like that, we’re back on solid ground.
She brushes her fingers along my face and smiles softly. I give her one back—small, unguarded, real.
“I wish you’d smile more often,” she says. “It looks good on you.”
Her words hit a nerve, and just like that, the smile fades.
“Sorry,” she mutters. “That came out wrong, like a boomer.”
I pull away from her slowly and tug my jeans back on.
“It’s fine,” I say, still smiling faintly. “I get that a lot.”
She sits up and starts fixing her clothes, pulling bits of hay from her hair one by one. I give her space, walking to the barn door. When I try to push it open, it doesn’t budge.
“What the hell…?” I shove harder, but the door doesn’t even creak.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, coming up behind me.
“The door—something’s blocking it from the outside. We’re stuck.”
Her calm expression twists into worry, and she moves beside me, pressing her shoulder against the wood to help push.
“What do you think it is?”
“Probably debris from the tornado,” I sigh, rubbing my eyelids with my fingertips.
Cala starts pounding on the door with both hands.
“Is anyone out there?!” Her hits grow faster, louder.
“Cala…” I warn, my tone sharp. “Cala!”
“What?!”
“No one’s coming. Eliza has strict orders not to open the shelter until the radio says it’s clear. We have to wait.”
Muttering something under her breath, she walks back to where we were and drops down beside me, defeated. I can see her worry building again, creeping up her spine, and I don’t want her to spiral—not over this.
So I sit next to her.
And we wait for someone to find us.