Ten Below Zero(52)

But he didn’t kiss me. He didn’t do anything more than hold me tightly to him. So, after blowing out a shaky breath, I continued rubbing the wash cloth, up his temple and into his eyebrow. I was tender when I reached the actual cut and found it had stopped bleeding entirely.

One of my hands went up into his hair that fell on his forehead and I pushed it out of the way, to give me better access to his skin. My eyes immediately found the scar on his forehead.

With the thumb of the hand holding back his hair, I rubbed over the scar a little. Everett’s arms tightened around me and his breathing picked up.

My heart rate was climbing, blood was pounding in my veins. I wasn’t even concentrated on cleaning his wounds anymore, I was trying not to combust, just from his arms around my waist and his breath on my neck. I braved a glance at his eyes and finally, I was able to name what it was I saw there.

Hunger.

We stared at one another for a few moments. Me on his lap, one hand in his hair. His arms wrapped tightly around my waist so that I was straddling him. And then his hands slid from my waist to my neck and pulled my lips down to meet his.

I closed my eyes upon impact. This kiss was different than every other kiss. It was like gulping that last breath of air before diving deep, as if it would be the last time you’d ever breathe again. I certainly felt like I was drowning.

His lips were hard on mine, almost punishing, before his hands tugged the ponytail out of my hair, sending my hair falling around us. He wrapped his hand around my hair and pulled, forcing me to raise my chin and expose my neck.

And then he was kissing down the column of my neck, from my jaw to my collarbone. Slowly, but torturously. My chest heaved with exertion and my eyes refused to open. While he kept one hand in my hair, the other moved around my waist to my ribcage, squeezing. My breathing was so ragged at this point that I wanted him to reach in and spread my ribcage apart, to free my lungs from their confines.

“Stand up,” he said against my neck. I did, albeit on shaky legs. And then Everett lunged for me again, pushing me against the counter at my back as his lips met mine over and over.

Clothes were being pulled off of us like they unwanted obstacles they were, thrown on the floor in a heap. Everett whipped me around so I was facing myself in the mirror as he yanked me free of my underwear. I could do nothing but stare at our reflection, see him staring at my back. He made a sound deep in his throat as I felt his hand touch the top of my shoulder blade. “Exquisite,” he said while running his hand down the center of my back, right over my spine. When he reached my tailbone, his hands grasped my hips and a second later he was inside of me.

It happened so fast that I threw my head back in a moan. Everett stilled. “Look,” he said. “Look in the mirror.”

I couldn’t. It was too much. But Everett was bossy.

“Look. Look at yourself in the mirror, Parker.”

With great struggle, I pulled my head down and opened one eye, my entire body overcome with the lust he brought out in me. The first thing I saw was our skin – moreover the difference in color. I was pale, he was deeply tanned. I ran my eyes up my body, which took center stage in the mirror, until I saw his face reflected back at me. His eyes were narrow, the ice blue of them lit up. Blue was suddenly the warmest color I’d ever known.

“Keep looking,” he said as he thrust again. I had to fight my body’s instinct to close my eyes. “Look,” he said again, thrusting again. He kept up a rhythm, slowly increasing his speed, until my eyes involuntarily closed.

“Open them, Parker. I want you to see this.” I moaned but did as he said. He started again, slower this time. Excruciatingly slow. “If you close them again, I’ll start over.”

“Arrrgh,” I moaned from my throat, totally overcome with so many feelings. I couldn’t process them. The resounding one was desire-that was obvious. But there was more. It was in the way he was staring back at me, his eyes completely on my face in the mirror. It was how his hands were holding me, lifting me. He wasn’t just touching me. He was holding me. That was more. And most of all, it was the way I was looking at him, something I couldn’t, wouldn’t define. It was too much, frighteningly so.

His pace picked up and I was gripping onto the counter with white knuckles, my shoulders hunched as my body started rapidly ascending.

“Look, Parker. Look,” his voice demanded.

I didn’t realize I’d closed my eyes again, so I forced them open and watched, watched the moment we were both overtaken.

I fell onto the counter then, completely, utterly spent. I felt Everett pick me up and then carry me to the bed. As I fell asleep, I heard him whisper something along my neck, but I was too far gone to know what he said.



I awoke in the dark to the sound of moaning. It wasn’t a moan of desire, but rather of fear. I flipped over in the bed, seeing Everett writhing and soaked in sweat.

“Wake up,” I said. When he didn’t, I tentatively put my hand on his chest and pushed. “Wake up, Everett,” I said louder this time.

Everett thrashed harder, tangling the sheets all over the bed. I sat up.

“Everett!” I yelled. “Wake up!” I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him until his eyes opened and he was staring at me.

“Everett,” I said, softer than before. “It was just a bad dream.”

Everett coughed and rolled away, sitting on the side of the bed with his back to me. I watched him put his face in his hands and rub away the sweat. “Sorry,” he said gruffly before standing up and walking into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him, leaving me in the darkness alone.