CHAPTER 21
An owl howling jolts me awake, but I'm not in my tent.
I can tell by the firmness of whatever I'm lying on.
My air mattress is never this firm, and my tent doesn't smell like cinnamon and sugar.
My pulse rings in my ears when I realize I have clothes on, and the last thing I remember being in is my bathing suit.
My eyes pop open when a car door slams off in the distance outside. That's when I realize I'm lying on a couch with a thick blanket covering my now clothed body. A low growl from the dark corner heightens my already raging panic.
“You should go.” The same voice from the other night says from within the shadows of the room. Of course, he isn't going to show me who he really is. “Your friends are worried. Go to them.”
It's not a suggestion. This man wants me out of his camper, and I want to be out of it too, but my body is frozen in place. I don't know if it's fear or arousal, but nonetheless, I can't leave just yet.
“If you don't get up and leave right now, I don't know if I can stay away from you any longer.” The sound of desperation runs through his voice.
He can't take being near me like this, and it's because he wants me. I know that, but this cements the fact into my core.
This man wants me at any cost, and if my blurry memory is any indication of true events, he saved me after the undertow swept me under and I blacked out.
“You saved me?” I ask, knowing that he did, but I need to hear him say it.
“You fucking just walked off the cliff high as hell, then you didn't come back up,” he yells, stomping his foot on the tile floor.
The whole camper rocks at the sudden movement.
“I couldn't let you drown, but Scarlett, what you did was reckless and unlike you.”
“Like you know anything about me,” I say into the abyss of darkness he's hiding in.
“You don't know shit.” I pull the blanket off myself to find that I'm in a long-sleeve shirt and a pair of men's boxers.
“You were freezing.”
He doesn't explain further, just states it like it doesn't matter that he took off my wet bathing suit and put me in his clothing.
“I didn't do anything besides save your life and keep you warm, don't twist it. Now explain to me why the fuck you decided to just walk off a cliff like your life was nothing.”
I don't owe this man an explanation for anything. He may have saved my life, but it doesn't mean I have to lay out all my inner workings for him to dissect. I get to my feet, heading for the small door straight ahead of me.
“No.” His hand slams onto the door, preventing me from leaving.
He gazes down at me, still in his disguise, with a hat and bandana covering his face.
It takes everything I have not to just rip the fabric away from his face.
This way, I can know for once and all who it is, and who I think it is.
His body heat radiates off him, making me sweat, wanting him to touch me again like he did the other night.
“You better talk before I make you.”
His command does things to me. Things I didn't know were possible.
My pussy weeps for him as he lingers over me, his daggering eyes not leaving an inch of my body unseen.
How do I tell him that I only wanted to be reckless so I could feel something?
To draw anyone's damn attention to the fact that I'm spiraling out of control and don't know what I want to do with my life.
I still haven't submitted my scholarship essay like I need to.
“I don't know.” I lie, because there's no way I'm telling him the real reason.
He lets out an annoyed huff, moving to face me as we stand in the narrow doorway of what I assume is his camper.
“You do know little prey, but once again you're lying, to yourself and to me.”
He's right. Maybe I do know what I want, and it scares the fucking shit out of me.
“You can tell me the truth. I won't judge you, because like I said, you're mine, and I will support you, but only if you can be honest with me.”
His fingers cup my jaw, so my gaze can't avoid his.
“Tell me, little prey, no one gets that fucked up for no reason, and no one walks off a cliff like it's nothing without having reasons.”
I don't know why, but I love it when he calls me that.
It's like I'm this delicate little thing he's afraid to break when I'm far from it.
But right now, as I'm only an inch away from being fully pressed flat to his body, I feel like I'm a piece of glass he’s worried he will shatter if he touches the wrong way.
It makes me feel oddly comforted and compliant.
“I don't know what I want to do with my life, and I'm out of time to figure it out.”