Page 16 of Wrap with Love

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“I enjoy hearing you sing.”

“Now I know you're trying to be nice. I’m a terrible singer. So much so I played an instrument in high school so I didn't have to do choir. It was one or the other.”

“I enjoy your voice singing or talking.”

“Really? Sometimes I think you space out when I’m rambling on.”

“There isn’t a word you’ve said to me that I’ve missed. If I looked spaced, I was more than likely thinking over the things you said.” I smile over at him before I go back to singing. I want to ask him why he sometimes goes from burning hot to ice cold.

When he starts to slow down, I perk up to see where we are. He hits a button and a gate swings open before he pulls in and heads up a windy road. I let out a small gasp when the cabin comes into view. It looks like it was plucked out of a magazine and dropped into a winter wonderland. Snow is already starting to coat everything.

“I don’t think we’re going to make it out of here, Nathan.” The snow is coming down fast with big snowflakes.

“Would it really be so bad to be stuck in a cabin like this for a few days?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Unless I go and fall in love with you. That would be bad since there can’t be an us.” His eyes widen for a moment, and I know I’ve caught him off guard.

“I told you not to worry about it. I’ll—”

I put my hand over his mouth, silencing him. I want to laugh at the shocked look on his face. This one is bigger than the one when I talked about me loving him. I’m guessing no one has ever told Nathan to stop talking.

“What if we let ourselves have this time together? Explore whatever this is we’re feeling? A few days of not worrying about the rules. What if what happens at the cabin stays at the cabin? No one would ever know. It would be our little secret. Then we could go back and act as if nothing happened.” I slowly lower my hand from over his mouth. I wait for a response, but he only stares at me. Is he going back to the cold thing?

“A man would be stupid to keep you a little secret.” He leans over, his warm breath tickling my lips. “I’ll agree to almost anything if it means that when you enter that cabin you’re mine.”

I clench my thighs together at the possessive tone he wrapped around the wordmine. I wish that I could be his forever, but I know that I’ll take whatever we can have for now.

thirteen

DR. NATHAN AMHERST

A lotof people would say that science is only about facts, but it’s not. It’s about intuition and gut instinct and following your hunches. When Newton had his epiphany about gravity, he was at home trying to avoid contracting the plague. Under his family’s apple tree, the apple fell straight onto his head. He theorized that there must be a force pulling the apple downward as it never fell to the side or upward. Alexander Fleming’s nasal drip into a plate of bacteria eventually led to the discovery of penicillin—that and his habit of not cleaning his dishes, which was completely understandable. When trying to discover what kills off bacteria, who has time for washing dishes? Time is better spent over your microscope, staring at the corner of the room where the wallpaper joints are slowly coming apart due to the humidity, or coming apart due to being in close contact with an activating agent.

That would be Kayla. She’s undoing me, and rather than pick apart the why’s of this phenomenon, I’m going to ride that gut feeling that she belongs to me, that she and I have met in this universe at this time because it was meant to be, much like Newton and his apple or Copernicus and his solar system. I’m not going to let something as stupid as policy someone made up overrule this primal connection we have.

“Also Marie Curie,” I mutter as I swing her up in my arms.

“Marie who?” She stiffens.

“Marie Curie. Discovered radium, not serendipitously like the blue mold penicillin discovery, but through education, training and research.” At the doorway is a giant box which I’m guessing is the groceries. I avoid it and unlatch the door with a finger scan.

“Do I want to know why we are discussing radiation, or should we talk about your fancy door locks?”

“Neither.” I drop her inside the door and kick it shut. “Time for this.”

I slant my mouth across hers, diving deep into her mouth, opening her to me. Gut feeling. Animal instinct. Visceral reaction. It’s all I know now. She wants to fall in love with me. That’s really all I need to know. My job is to tip her over the edge, make her fall.

Her hands come up to cup my face, and that small touch rocks me like an earthquake. She’s ripping up my foundation and pouring love into the base. I’m desperate to give back. My fingers find the bottom of her shirt. I slide under the fabric and feel her shiver under my touch. Her tits are heavy in my hand. Her nips poke against my palm as I lift and mold her tender flesh. I tear my mouth from hers. “Got to have a taste,” I gasp out.

I push the shirt up over her glorious tits, jerk down her bra, and watch those babies bounce out like apples tumbling from the netted bag. I lift one to my mouth and suck the nip hard, so hard that my cheeks hollow out. Her knees buckle, and I move to catch her.

“God, that was...I didn’t know my breasts were so sensitive.” She’s half-delighted, half-abashed.

I kiss her on her rosy cheeks. “Let’s see what else is sensitive.” I move her away from the door, perching her on the edge of a thin hall table.

I move lower, my mouth finding the curve of her stomach, the tiny indent of her belly button. Her trembling intensifies the further south I go. I push down her pants, only far enough so I can see the juncture of her legs, allowing the knit fabric to bind her legs together. The cotton fabric of her panties is dark where her juice has soaked through. “Turned on, baby?” I finger the cotton lightly.

“Yes, damn it,” she chokes out. She wriggles her legs slightly, trying to get more freedom, but I like her bound and tight, exactly as I have her.


Tags: Ella Goode Romance