“You’re soaked.”
“You’re very observant,” she snaps. “Do you want a fucking prize?”
It takes me two steps to reach the woman in my living room. I grab her hair, fisting it, and I pull it back. Her eyes widen and her mouth slams shut as I get in her face and I hiss at her.
“Listen up, little girl: you’re in my world now. You knocked on my door. You came into my house. You’re invading my space, which means you’re going to play by my rules. Understood?”
She nods, and I fight back the arousal that’s growing inside of me. It’s been a long time since I dominated a woman. Any woman. It’s been a long time since a girl made me feel like I was going to fucking explode with desire. This woman is something else. I don’t know what she wants or what she needs, but something tells me that neither one of us is going to be walking away unscathed from this situation.
“Now try apologizing,” I tell her. “And then you can ask me for some dry clothes.”
She opens her mouth to say something, but that’s when I hear a sound.
A squeak.
No, a little cry.
Fear covers her face, and she takes a step back, and that’s when I realize that the backpack on her chest isn’t just some sort of fashion statement: it’s actually a baby carrier, and she’s got a kid in there.
“What the hell?” I ask. “You’ve got a kid? Out in this weather?”
“Please,” she whispers. “I’m sorry for being rude. Please don’t kick us out.”
“I’m not going to kick you out,” I say.
What does she take me for? Some sort of monster? Really? Is that what I look like? Well, maybe I do. I don’t want to. I don’t want that to be the impression I’m giving off because the reality is that I’m not a monster. I’m not cruel and I’m not mean and I’m not dark inside.
But I am lonely.
And I am isolated.
And I live out here for a reason, and that reason is my own personal hell.
Now I’m in a cabin with a woman and a baby. What do I know about babies? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I know even less about women, if that’s at all possible. I know one thing, though. These two aren’t going to last very long if I don’t get them into dry clothes.
“Give me the baby,” I say, reaching for the kid. “And get some dry clothes from the dresser.”
She doesn’t want to. I can see the hesitation in her eyes, and I don’t know whether that’s fear or nervousness she’s hiding there, but I know that she understands she doesn’t have a choice. Not anymore. She’s got one shot at whatever it is that she’s doing. One shot.
She has one chance to get this right and if she blows it, she knows that she’s going to be back in the storm. None of us wants that to happen.
Finally, after silently fighting with herself, she hands the baby over to me. I take it gingerly, carefully, surprised at just how light the little one is. I peek down at the baby. He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t get upset. He just looks up at me and for a quick second, I wonder if this is what my own baby would have looked like. Shoving those thoughts down, I push everything aside and look up at the woman. She’s managed to find a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, and she looks over at me.
“Don’t look,” she says.
I raise an eyebrow, and she swallows. Hard.
“Please,” she adds quietly, and I turn around to give her some privacy.
I hold the baby, bouncing him gently. The only noise in the cabin is the sound of her wet clothing hitting the floor. A minute later, I hear her pulling on the dry clothing.
“Okay,” she says. “It’s safe.”
I turn around and I have to practically fight to keep myself from going insane.
No, it’s not safe.
Nothing about this woman is safe.