CHAPTER 38
Evander
I stare at the ceiling. The fire is burning too low. It’s the middle of the night. It’s cold and the wind howls.
Phoebe’s sound asleep. My arms are around her as she’s sprawled half on me and half off of me. Somehow, one of her hands is plopped directly in the middle of my forehead. The slim fingers of her other hand are in my chest hair. One of her perfect thighs is thrown over my hip.
She’s part purring kitten and part octopus.
I close my eyes and let it all sink in.
I think about all the post-sex awkwardness I’ve dealt with in my life. The come-down moments filled with any number of questions and regrets.
What’s her name, again?
Where did I leave my pants and when I find them, will my car keys be in the pocket?
Where the fuck did I park my car?
But at the heart of all those housekeeping kinds of concerns was the real crux of the matter—how do I make my escape?
I run my fingers through Phoebe’s curls and know that in this situation, I’m dealing with a whole new set of loaded questions that exist on a whole ‘nother level of magnitude.
And I don’t have a clue how to deal with any of it.
At least I know where my ATV keys are—they’re frozen in the ignition of the Can-Am 700 and likely buried under eight feet of snow.
Good thing I’m not looking to escape.
Which brings me to the things that need to be dealt with immediately.
How much wood do we have left?
How long will the food last? Because there’s no way I can hunt anything in this shitshow of a winter storm. Any living creature is either in hiding or buried under five feet of snow.
Most importantly, how much snow has accumulated on the roof while I’ve been otherwise occupied? I know it’s the middle of the night, but I have no choice but to get up there and clean it off.
If I concentrate on those topics, I can delay dealing with the heavier shit.
Such as…
What the fuck even was that?
What is happening between us?
What has Phoebe done to me?
I hear the roof creak. I don’t want to wake her, but I need to get up, get dressed, and haul my ass back up there before it’s too late.
“I’m going with you,” she says, suddenly wide awake.
“Nope. You’re not.”
“I can help.”
“No.”
She throws off my arm and sits up. Her hair is tossed all the way to one side of her head. She blinks, rousing herself.
I can’t help but stare at her. The dip of her delicate clavicle and the soft, rounded point of her chin. The trim but strong shoulders. The swell of her magnificent breasts and how perfectly they complement her curvy frame.
Phoebe is all female.
Sex with her was absolutely insane—the most over-the-top sexual experience of my life. But not because she’s an Olympic gymnast or a circus act or a flat-out freak.
But because she sucked the life force right out of me. Then she wrapped it all up in her tender kisses and outrageous orgasms, and shot it right back into me, directly into my veins.
Bigger. Bolder. Delivered with a smile.
I think I’m in serious trouble here.
“You can stare at my boobs later, MacLaine. We need to clear off the roof.” She hops up.
I remain where I am sprawled out on the floor, watching her move.
She’s got a delicious little swing of her hips when she walks, even in those chunky wool socks.
She’s straight and sure of herself. Shoulders back.
I realize I’ve never seen her in heels. Or even a dress. Or a skirt.
Can that be right? Jeans. Scrubs. Snow coveralls. That’s it.
And Phoebe’s been genuinely lovely in all of them.
Or nothing at all.
She bends over to grab my cashmere sweater from the floor and flings it onto my face. I peek around it to see her reach for her clothes hanging by the fireplace.
I jump up, too. “You’re not going on the roof with me. It’s pitch dark out there.”
I watch her pull on her panties, thermal underwear, turtleneck, and fleece sweater. She steps into her snowsuit and zips it up to her chin.
She’s serious.
“Phoebe. Stop.”
She puts her hands on her hips and starts looking around for her gloves. I get it. She wants to help. But I need to reason with her.
“I haven’t been outside in many hours now, Phoebe. I don’t know what the conditions are, and I don’t want to put you at risk.”
“Conditions?” She makes a production of pretending to peer through the tarps into the night. “Looks like it may have snowed.”
I shake my head and grab my thermal underwear, socks, long-sleeve thermal T-shirt, and wool beanie, then top it off with my sweater. Next, I tug on my thick, waterproof socks.
“And why is it that you haven’t been outside in many hours, I wonder?” Phoebe tips her head in puzzlement.
I see where she’s going with this. I pull on the weatherproof layer that goes under my coveralls.
“I think it’s because I made sexual demands that kept you from your outdoor duties.”
I’m trying not to laugh.
“Therefore, I should carry my weight.”
I give her no warning, just snatch her up off her feet and hold her high off the floor. I lay a kiss on her. She links her arms around my neck and slides down the front of my body until her feet reach the floor and our lips part.
She smiles up at me. “I just want to help, Evander. I’m fine now. Think about it, if I can survive the crazy sex we just had, I think I can shovel some snow.”
“All right, all right.” There is something she can help me with. “But remember our agreement—if I tell you to do something, you do it, because it’s for your safety.”
“I remember.”
“But wear the extra parka over your snowsuit, okay?”
“Won’t you be cold if I do?”
I glare at her.
“All right, all right. Jeeeesh.”
We step through the tarp and put on our boots. I check to make sure she’s zipped up, buttoned up, and covered from head to toe. I check her balaclava and pull the parka hood down her forehead before I snap it in place.
She looks up at me. I can only see her eyes, but I know from the sparkle that she’s smiling. All I want to do is strip everything off her again and watch her ride my dick to a few more orgasms, but that will have to wait.
Roof safety first. Dick riding second.
“What’s so funny?” she asks me, her voice muffled under the face mask.
“I’m going to have to tie you up.”
Her eyes flash. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. A rope around your waist that tethers you down. I don’t want you to blow away.” I lean in and lower my balaclava to hers, giving her a kiss through two layers of tightly knit merino wool.
She chuckles.
I hand her the lantern. I hope the battery can last a bit longer, since my solar charger can’t work without the solar bit. “Ready, Phoebe?”
“Ready.”