CHAPTER 29
Frankie
I melt in his arms, surrendering to the solid strength of his body.
Special K is all over me. It’s starting. I give up. I won’t waste another second fighting myself over what I know to be true.
That he’s different. He’s the kind of man I’ve always wanted but didn’t think I’d ever find. And though the timing couldn’t be worse, I just don’t give a shit anymore.
Rational thought has left the building, and in its place is nothing but sexual greed. Off-the-charts lust. My body is already out of the starting gate, and I left logic back there somewhere in the dust.
Special K’s rigid length pushes against my belly, and I know that his body isn’t stopping either. Whatever it is between us, chemistry or desire or whatever writers or poets call it, it’s here. And nothing can stop it.
And then his lips are on mine, tentative and sweet at first and then more insistent. I open my mouth to his tongue, and my head spins with desire and arousal. Our first kiss was fireworks, but this second kiss is something else.
It’s life-altering.
My mind tries one last time to right the ship, to recall my predicament, to try and save Special K from the danger that surrounds me. But my mind is no match for what’s going on here.
He breaks the kiss for an instant and yanks his shirt off over his head. My hands fly to his barrel chest and down his washboard abs to his belt and waistband, which I greedily loosen and unbutton. “Is this why you brought me a mattress?” I croak, my voice deep and filled with emotion.
“In my dreams,” he croaks back, and I know that whatever I’m feeling, he’s feeling the same.
Maybe I’ll find a way to ask for his help. I’ll be as vague as I can and I won’t name names, because the less he knows the safer he is. But I will ask him to help me hide.
Just not right now.
I reach up to lace my fingers at the back of his neck and pull him into me. Then I tip my head to give him more access to my lips. I revel in how my body—from breasts to upper thighs—is crushed against the hard steel of his huge frame.
How his hands explore me. Up and down my sides. Along my hips. Cupping my ass.
I wiggle against him, curl my leg around his, hungry for more.
I feel his hands slide up my back and wrap around me. Tight. I’ve only been kissed like this one other time in my life—the first time Specia K kissed me. And now that I’m sure it wasn’t a fluke, it’s all I want.
His kiss is the real thing.
Special K is demanding, but I can feel him tremble with the effort to hold back, not come on too strong.
But I want him to. I can handle it.
At least I think I can.
I’m being pushed further into the room. And just as I sense him kick a heel behind him to close the door, Pussy bolts between my legs. Like a shot, she’s outside.
I yank away from Special K and race through the door in my bare feet. “Pussy!”
“Fuck,” Special K spits out the curse.
I spin around, thinking he’s complaining because my cat just ruined the moment. But that’s not it. Not at all. He’s scowling as he scans the trees beyond the camp, still naked from the waist up.
“You should go inside, Frankie.”
“I can’t. I have to get her.” I stand in the darkness, pine needles poking into the bare soles of my feet. I look everywhere for the glint of her pink glow-in-the-dark collar. I listen for the soft tinkle of her bell. Nothing.
“I’ll find her.” Special K’s voice is low and serious. “Go inside.”
A deafening crash to my right freezes my thoughts. “Pussy?” I’m seeing spots. I can’t breathe. If anything happens to that fucking cat…
“Go inside. Now. Grab your revolver just in case.”
“In case of what?”
He shoots me a glare. What I see is sobering. The man’s not fucking around. “Okay, okay,” I say, backing up. Then I turn and run for the door.
I grab the gun, like he said, though I don’t know what I’m supposed to be shooting at. I keep the door cracked open so I can watch, but I’m trembling from my chin to my toes.
“Pussy?” I whisper into the night.
I hear more rustling in the tree line, and in the dying campfire, I watch Special K skulk silently in the direction of the noise. Whatever’s out there is huge. I don’t know how he manages this, but his footfalls make absolutely no sound on the pine needles and twigs.
He slips into the shadows and out of sight.
Suddenly, a deep snuffling sound emerges from the woods, followed by a series of crashes and thuds. I see the pine trees sway as something crashes through the undergrowth.
Then I hear a sound that makes my blood run cold. It’s Pussy. She’s howling in alarm and hissing.
“Please,” I cry out. I’m choking on tears. “Please find her. She’s all I have.”
I collapse in the doorway and pull my knees to my chin, rocking back and forth. I hear nothing. Is Pussy already dead? She can’t be.
She’ll survive. She’s all right. She has to be. It will be okay…
“Reeeaaarwww!”
My cat’s cry cuts through the night air. I gasp. Then I hear a noise so horrific that I can’t even process it. I’m listening to what sounds like actual hand-to-hand combat. I swear I hear Special K’s fists beating someone—or something. I hear him grunt as he lands each punch.
Howls. Snorts. Growls. Thuds.
The whole forest vibrates from this clash. I stand, gun in hand, wondering what the hell I think I’m doing. I can barely point and shoot this thing! Another dancer gave it to me for protection while leaving the club at night, which is fine, but here? In the wilderness? In the dark?
I’m useless.
“MacLaine!”
A terrible high-pitched squeal cuts through the night. It seems to go on forever, and then I hear a crunch, and the ear-splitting cry abruptly ends. Just then, I see a flash of glow-in-the-dark pink through the trees. Pussy’s collar.
I race outside in time to see her bolt out from the forest. I catch her in my arms as she runs into the camp, and the instant I pick her up, I see she’s hurt. There’s blood on her fur.
Just then, Special K steps out from the tree line. He’s panting. I see the muscles in his abs and chest ripple as he steadies himself. But he’s very much alive. I take a deep gulp of the night air, not sure how long I’ve been holding my breath.
I stare at him in shock.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” he says, like he’s running out to the convenience store for a half gallon of milk.
Then he disappears again.
I rush inside with Pussy, collapsing to the floor next to the lanterns. She’s licking her fur where she was injured, but even through my sudden flood of tears, I can see it’s not deep, not an emergency. It looks like she got scraped by a twig. She’s fine.
I feel him before I see him. I glance up to find Special K taking up the entire height and width of the doorframe. I blink away some of my tears, enough to get a good look at him. From my spot on the floor, the man looks like a storybook giant.
“She okay?” he asks.
I nod, words not possible. I’m on the verge of sobbing—from relief and the adrenaline crash. I have absolutely no idea what just happened out there. But he’s okay and so is my cat.
Special K leaves. I hear him rustling around in one of the storage containers outside. He steps back through the door.
“Can I take a look?” He’s got a first-aid kit dangling from one hand.
I nod.
He closes the door and comes to sit next to me on the floor. Pussy immediately jumps in his lap and starts rubbing her face against his chin, neck, and cheek. I see that his whole upper body is covered with a thin sheen of perspiration.
Whatever he did out there took a lot of effort.
“Okay, okay,” he says, gently removing my cat from his face. “You’re welcome, Pussy. Stop squirming so I can get the IFAK open.”
“A what?”
His eyes flash at me. “Individual First Aid Kit. Navy term. Can you keep her still for a moment?”
I hold her in place while he uses an antiseptic wipe to clean her off. Then he moves a lantern closer to inspect the cut. “She’s fine,” he says. “I’d put antibacterial ointment on her, but I suspect she’d just lick it off. She’s got all her shots, right?”
I nod, silent. I wonder if I’ve permanently lost the ability to speak. That’s when I see that the knuckles of his right hand are raw and bloody. “Oh, shit!” I grab his wrist and hold the lantern up to his hand. “What did you do to yourself, Special K?”
“I’m fine.”
Pussy jumps out of his arms and finds a soft place to curl up on the bed, where she can keep an eye on us.
“Are you always this damn stubborn?” I ask him. “What were you doing out there? What were you punching?”
“You don’t want to know.”
I swallow hard. “Did something have ahold of Pussy?”
“You don’t want to know that, either.”
I let go with a nervous laugh, grabbing a few more antiseptic wipes from the first aid kit. He hisses softly as I clean off his knuckles. They’re all cracked and scraped up, but the cuts aren’t deep.
I grab the tube of ointment and dab some on his broken skin. “You got all your shots, cowboy?” I ask chuckling. “You’re not going to lick at this, are you?” I replace the cap and throw the tube into the first aid kit. When he doesn’t answer me, I glance up at him.
His eyes hold intense hunger. The force of his stare knocks the wind from me.
“Yeah, I got all my shots,” he says. “But I’d rather lick you. Everywhere.”
My breathing becomes shallow. My heart thuds so hard that I worry it’ll bust out from my chest.
“Dammit, MacLaine,” I whisper, just before I throw myself in his arms and send him sprawling.