Chapter Nineteen
Mara-Present
I Got You-the White Buffalo
I was falling.
It was cold.
So cold.
And that was all I could remember. The cold was so all-consuming that it’s all my body could register. Dark, cold, wet, and devoid of life. That’s what I felt until the warmth spread from my center to my extremities.
I become vaguely aware of the solid body beside me and the warm scent of him surrounding me. It took a moment to realize the steadiness I felt was from arms holding me so close so I didn’t slip away again.
Blinking once, my memories of the ice cracking under my weight and plummeting into the frozen pond rush back like a tidal wave. I don’t know what happened after that but I’m somewhere warm now, so either I’m dead…
Or I’m safe.
And there’s only one logical explanation for that.
He saved me. He saved me? I thought he hated me. But maybe not as much as I thought if he was willing to risk his own safety for my life.
Another blink and the blurry orange-red glow of the room solidifies a bit more so I can make out the shadowed contours of the man holding me.
The naked man holding me.
That doesn’t turn me on simply because he’s naked, but because I can only assume he was trying to share his body heat and raise my own.
There’s something so intimate about it. Dare I say…
romantic. Neither one of my exes ever cuddled me unless I asked for it.
And even then I would lay on Bryce’s chest while he scrolled Instagram on his phone.
I always had this feeling that my relationships were one sided without fully acknowledging them.
Until I did. And it broke me how used I was.
It doesn’t take a doctorate to realize that my insecurities with Jason stem from my past experiences. The hurt I felt had little to do with him and more to do with unresolved feelings.
I never got the closure I needed. I never got to tell either of them how emotionally abusive they were, how much their actions hurt me.
Not that they would care. But I was too weak to speak up and say anything besides “you’re a piece of shit.
” In hindsight, that really didn’t pack the punch I wanted it to.
Then there’s Jason.
Jason, who pulled me out of my car on the side of the road in a snow storm.
Jason, who saved me from a frozen death.
Jason, who has made it very clear I’m just a good fuck, yet he’s still holding me in such a possessive manner that I can physically feel his concern for my life. I don’t know if he has some sense of duty over me or something. Should I be grateful or suspicious that he keeps saving my life?
I open my eyes fully and try to tilt my head so I can see Jason. But he moves his strong hand to the back of my head and holds me in place. I don’t know if he’s awake or subconsciously tucking me into him. But I comply.
The scratchy length of his beard rubs against my smooth hair. My bare breasts press against his hard pecs and every inch beneath that is in contact with the other. Flat palms against my back. His stomach against mine. My legs layered with his. His erection is stiff between us.
Yet…he isn’t acting on it. He’s just holding me to him and keeping me as warm as possible.
I finally realize we aren’t in the bed but laying on a pile of blankets on the floor, bundled in quilts beside the fireplace I didn’t realize was in his room.
I noticed the house had two chimneys outside but never asked where the other fireplace was. Here’s my answer.
It’s unbelievably warm. The light sheen of sweat over Jason’s body melts us together so our skin feels like one. But my body is still recovering from the accident so the heat is a welcome relief. The only thing still tinglingly cold is my toes.
Which seem to have a weight on them. When I wiggle my foot I hear a soft meow and assume it’s the infamous barn cat I heard about, resting on my foot.
Finally, I notice that one arm is looped under Jason’s so the hand can rest on his tricep while my other hand is flat against his pecs. My face is buried in the area where his neck meets his shoulder so his scent is overpowering.
It’s like a drug. I’m addicted to his scent. To him.
Closing my eyes, I speak into his chest, “You saved me.” No answer. “Again.”
Callused hands sweep up and down my spine from the nape of my neck to the top of my ass. On the last pass, his hand lands on my ass cheek and stays there like a home base.
“Thank you,” I whisper into him.
Jason shifts his head so his mouth and nose are against the crown of my head. He doesn’t kiss my hair like I thought he might, but it’s still a sentimental gesture.
Rest. I can practically hear him telling me.
So I do.
The next time I wake up, we’re spooning.
I must have shifted in my sleep to face the hearth, and a sleeping Jason didn’t lock me into place like before.
Every curve of me fits all his curves, every bend in our bodies nestled together like puzzle pieces.
His arm loosely bands around my waist. But not too tight.
The weight of the cat is gone so I slip out of his hold and lift the covers to rise. Thankfully Jason doesn’t stir. Seeing he’s still fast asleep, I move to the dresser I got a shirt from last time and pull out a long sleeve black Carhartt shirt before slipping it over my torso.
I’ve been in this room a handful of times but I was…preoccupied every time so I haven’t gotten a good look at the room.
It’s so cozy. I expected a bleak room. But the flames flicker light over beautiful wood panels on the floor, a large wood frame bed covered in a beige comforter, and a rust red Pendleton patterned rug on the floor. A set of French doors leads to a small balcony with a light dusting of snow.
But what really catches my eye is the rows and rows of floating shelves on either side of the fireplace neatly lined with books. Upon closer inspection, I notice they’re arranged alphabetically. I had a feeling Jason was anal-retentive and this solidifies my suspicions.
I have no idea what time it is but it’s still dark outside.
The juxtaposition of the cold winter night outside and the homey, ember coated interior of the room separated by glass doors does something to me.
Some feelings can only be described by a scene, a smell, there’s no word for how you’re feeling.
That’s Jason’s room. Moody, cozy, it makes me want to curl up in front of the fire with a book for hours.
Shuffling behind me alerts me to Jason waking. Spinning around, I see the panic on his face melt into relief when he sees me standing in front of the book shelf.
This might be the first time I’ve seen his hair pulled into a manbun at the back of his head.
Sweeping his hair away from his face reveals just how jagged his features are, how masculine and chiseled.
All of this to say he looks like a Viking ready to pillage a town for treasure. Fierce, deadly in his own way.
“Sorry if I woke you,” I say. Though I wasn’t making any noise. It wouldn’t surprise me if Jason has Spidey-senses that know when something is amiss.
Taking my hand, Jason pulls me down to the floor on my knees between his spread thighs.
A less than graceful hand runs up the length of my stomach beneath the shirt, lifting the fabric with it until his hand meets my breast. Adjusting the shirt, Jason lifts it so he can access my nipples, wrapping soft lips around one while his beard scratches the sensitive skin around it.
All the while, my hands weave through his hair, longer than when I arrived.
I can practically feel the shivers run down his spine from my touch, just like he’s doing to me.
We fuck, I sit on his lap and ride him like I can clear my mind of all the chaos if I grind hard enough. And just before he comes, Jason lays me on my back, shirt still lifted, so he can paint my skin with his release.
It wasn’t as rough as usual, probably trying to be careful with me after today (or yesterday, not sure). But it was…different. I don’t know how to describe it but the way Jason handles me, the way he looked at me, felt different than our usual rutting.
And different isn’t alway good. It plants a seed of doubt and I worry that’s not what he wanted.
As I wipe the come from my body, I ask,“Is our sex what you want?” The question slips out before I can stop myself.
Then immediately regret it but the words are already there, hanging like a noose between us.
“I mean…do I do enough of the work. Do I do what you like? I’m completely satisfied, don’t worry, but I want to make sure I do what you want too.
Pulling my own weight in our situation.”
Oh my god, Mara, stop rambling.
Jason stares at me without a nod or a shake of the head or anything. So, naturally, I assume I’ve made things awkward.
As usual.
“Do you want me to be on top more? I mean, my ex said I never did enough of the work in our sex life and I’d expect him to do everything. So I’m consciously trying to be an active participant in this arrangement. Soooo, is it ok? Do you want to change anything about our sex life?”
After another endless moment of silence, Jason shakes his head firmly, putting my rapid heart rate at ease.
As long as he’s happy, I’m happy.
“Ok. Good.” I still sound like a blubbering idiot. “I’m gonna go get a little more sleep before the sun rises.” I point toward the door and by extension my room before lifting off the ground, and lowering his shirt to cover the important parts and head for my room.
A part of me expected him to take me back to the pile of blankets and quilts on a wordless request for me to stay.
That same part of me wanted him to.
But he doesn’t move to stop me so I leave his room and enter my own with a mix of emotions I can’t place.
A sickening pit in my stomach that keeps me awake until the sun peeks through the curtains of my room.
It’s a new day. But I feel like something changed.
Like the rest of my time here will be different.