But before I can spin around, the door is suddenly kicked open, and I suck in a breath as leaves blow in with the wind, and I see a mess of animal and blood as I stumble back into the railing and fall. I land on my ass and catch myself on my hands behind me, the breath knocked out of me. What the hell?
A man steps over the threshold of the shop, wearing jeans and blood running down his bare chest from the dead animal carcass hanging around his neck. I watch, my mouth suddenly dry and my heart lodged in my throat, as he walks over to the long wooden table and slings the dead deer, foot-long antlers and all, onto the table and turns around to kick the shop door closed again.
I gape in horror. Streams of blood run down his back, covering his spine, and I dart my eyes over to the animal, seeing its head hang limply off the table. I look away for a moment, pushing the bile back down my throat.
Is he where the deer came from that was here when I arrived a few days ago, too?
Turning around, his eyes meet mine as he heads to the wash basin next to the dryer. He looks away again and turns on the water.
I try to wet my mouth, generate any kind of saliva, but the blood all over him… Jesus. I fist my palms behind me.
Who…?
And then it finally hits me.
This is Kaleb. The older son.
He pulls up the hose and leans over the sink, running the water over his dark hair and down his back, cleaning the mess off his body. When he stands up straight again, I watch as he rubs the water over the back of his neck, and I notice a thin, faint tattoo running vertically from the bottom of his skull to his shoulder. Some kind of script.
His hands glide down, over his stomach, making the muscles there flex and the water drench his jeans. The overhead bulb swings back and forth from the wind he let in, the light hitting him and then the darkness swallowing him up again.
But I see him turn his head again—looking at me. His dark eyes fall down my body and stop, zoning in with his jaw flexing, and my stomach flips and then drops, every hair on my body standing on end. The room suddenly feels so small.
I inhale a breath. “Um, you’re, uh…” I say, standing up. “You’re… um, Kaleb, right?”
He meets my eyes again, and I see that his aren’t really dark, after all. They’re green.
But he looks mad.
His black eyebrows narrow, casting this shadow over his gaze, and he turns back around as if I’m not here, finishing his washing. He turns off the water and grabs a shop cloth, wiping off his face and neck and then runs it over the top of his head, smoothing his hair back and soaking up the drenched strands.
Hello?
What’s his problem? Why isn’t he answering me?
As he turns toward me, though, and tosses the shop cloth into the sink, he meets my eyes again, holding my stare, and then he cocks his head a little. I almost laugh. The gesture makes him look so innocent. Like a curious puppy.
But then his loaded eyes drop to my stomach again, and his chest rises and falls heavier, and I clench my thighs. Instinctively, I put my hand where his eyes are, and I feel it.
The bare skin of my stomach.
My breath catches in my throat, and I look down, seeing I’m still wearing my ripped T-shirt, the fabric torn and exposing my belly. I cringe. This whole time…
But as I trail my hand, my fingers brush the exposed underside of my fucking breast, and I stop breathing altogether. I pull down my shirt as much as it will go and back up, ready to scramble for the stairs.
As soon as I move, he moves, walking right for me. He approaches, droplets of water hanging from his skin, and I dart toward the stairs, but he shoots out his hand, grabs me, and shoves me into the wall instead.
Wha…
I gasp, fear curdling in my stomach.
He presses his body into mine, taking my waist in one hand and planting his other hand on the wall above my head, and dips his forehead down to mine, looking into my eyes. The embrace is intimate, and it feels like he’ll kiss me, but he doesn’t. I open my mouth to say something, but his breath brushes my lips—hot and heady—and the room is spinning.
He’s cold, but I feel warmer inside. Like I’m about to sweat.
Reaching up, he takes the ribbon I’m wearing and runs it through his fingers before bringing a lock of my hair to his nose and smelling it.
Then he dips to the side, running his nose over my ear, up my hairline, and across my forehead, inhaling me.
Smelling me.
It’s weird, but I can’t move. I shiver, pleasure at the gesture making my body react. My skin tightens, the flesh of my nipples pebbling and chafing against my T-shirt, and I close my eyes for a moment, loving the electric current flowing under my skin.
I should push him away.
I can’t lift my arms for some reason, though.
“I, um,” I choke out. “I don’t think you should—”
But he reaches between us with one hand, his forehead resting on mine with fire in his eyes as he starts ripping open his belt and undoing his jeans.
Whoa, what? My mouth falls open. “Wait, stop.” I plant my hands on his chest. “You can’t…What are you…”
But he presses himself into me, breathing harder with his teeth bared a little, and I feel the hard ridge of him rubbing between my legs.
I exhale hard, my eyelids fluttering.
He slides his hands down the back of my shorts, cupping my ass as he lifts me into his arms and spins us around. My stomach somersaults, and I can only grab onto him as he lands me down on the hood of a car, pulling my ass forward, so he nestles between my legs.
“Kaleb,” I say, trying to push him away. “Kal—”
He fists the back of my hair and presses his body into mine as he comes down on my mouth, hungry and wild, kissing me and shutting me up. His tongue dives in, and I moan with the throbbing down low.
Stop!
Holy shit.
He rolls his hips into me, faster and faster, breathing hard as he bites and chews at my lips before sucking on my tongue so hard, my thighs are on fire.
What the hell is he doing? Fuck! Have we met or something?
I finally swallow. “Stop!” I shout, my pulse ringing in my ears. “Stop. Just stop!”
But he comes down on top of me, forcing me back onto the car, and his hot mouth finds my stomach.
I shake my head, tears hanging at the corners, because it feels so good, and I don’t want it to. I don’t want him to go lower. I don’t want to wrap my legs around him. None of this feels good or warm, and none of it makes me feel soft on the inside like I could kiss him back.
I close my eyes as his lips suck and nibble their way across my stomach, and I feel air hit my left breast, knowing it’s popped out from the rip in the shirt again. I feel him pause, and I dig my nails into the car, because I know he sees it.
I wait for it, wanting to shake my head to stop him, but failing at even trying, and then… he catches my nipple between his teeth, his warm mouth sending heat pouring over my whole body. I let out a loud groan, hearing my nails screech across the hood of the car.
“Please stop,” I murmur, but I know he hears me. He growls and yanks me back down to the end of the car, diving for my stomach again as he starts to pull off my sleep shorts.
I grit my teeth together. “Stop,” I mutter.
But he doesn’t. His kisses only get lower, trailing over my hip bones as he eats me up, and warmth pools between my legs, almost burning with needing something there.