14
REMI
I have a problem.Like, I know for a fact if I tried to explain to Quill that I might have fallen head over heels for someone who broke into a cabin and killed everyone but me, he’d probably tell me I was a little…
Absurd.
That’s just it, though. For the first time in a long time, I feel… peaceful. Streeter stayed up with me all night and listened to me talk about books. He smiled when I got excited, and it reminded me of every time I’ve ever had someone tell me I talked too much and made me want to just be…
Small.
These last few nights have made me feel anything but. I’ve never had someone listen to me, be interested in what I’m interested in. I’ve never had someone care about what I thought, or how I felt, or what Ineeded. Streeter reads my body in bed and seems to read my mind when we’re having a conversation.
It’s strange to realize that the first person who actually sees me, lets me just be myself, and seems genuinely interested when I’m excited is… a killer.
It’s even stranger to realize I’m okay with that, but I’m not going to question it. It’s like the universe heard all the times I’d wished for the perfect Christmas present, all the times I’d wondered when I would get my own little fairy-tale ending like I read in books… and it brought mehim. He’s the perfect gift, and the only thing that I really want to keep.
Because even though it’s only been a few days, it’s impossible for me to deny that I want to keep him—no, I want Streeter to keepme.
I can worry about the moral implications of it later.
It’s the day after I realized insta-love is apparently more than just a trope to me, and while Streeter is carefully nailing a board over the window he broke, I’m tossing another log into the fire when I look out the window. It snowed a little more last night, but the sun is bright today.
A little too bright.
And even though he promised he wasn’t going to hurt me when this was all over, something in my chest still constricts. I frown as I walk across the room, watching my breath fog up the glass as I stare at the white outside until my eyes hurt.
“How much longer do you think the snow will last?” At least I manage to keep the melancholy from my voice when I ask, though from the way Streeter’s golden eyes turn to me, I have a feeling he can tell anyway.
“I don’t know. It felt a little warmer when I went out to get wood earlier. What’s wrong, Hummingbird? Worried you’re going to run out of supplies and we’ll have to go forage for food in the snow?”
I idly trail my finger across the haze on the glass, tracing a small heart in the condensation and watching it disappear as I step back, fading away like some weird sign of how this will all end when the snow melts. “I bought more than I should have, and there was some food in the pantry from the last people whowere here. We should be fine, it’s just…” I trail off and let out a soft sound when I feel his warm arms slip around me, and that strength that could be so dangerous draws me against him.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I turn, coming up on tiptoes to press my mouth to his. “I just don’t want to run out of food. Maybe I’m okay with you killing people, but the wildlife is innocent.”
There.
It helps that I believe what I’m saying, so the lie on my tongue is only a little bit of untruth. He just snorts, and the smile that crosses his face is so beautiful it makes my chest ache.
It makes me wrap my arms tighter around him, and I press my mouth to his again. Maybe I talk too much, and maybe I have so much anxiety I could probably power a small town if they ever figured out how to convert it to energy… but I do know that apparently one thing I’m good at is beinggoodfor Streeter.
It feelsgoodfor me when I do it. And when I open my mouth and he licks inside it like he’s starved for something other than our half-frozen food, I can’t help but let out a little moan. Maybe he isn’t into insta-love, but I can settle for insta-lust.
As long as he wants to keep me after the snow melts, I can work with it. I squirm against him and he deepens the kiss, sucking my tongue gently until I’m nearly a puddle of burning nerves and want. I know he’s doing it on purpose, because I can feel the way he grins against my lips when I let out a helpless little sound and my hips jerk forward of their own volition.
But that’s not good enough, is it? I need to do more than just fall apart every time he touches me—I need to be bold, and memorable. I need him to want me just as much as I want to stay with him.
I can do that.
It’s almost empowering to realize that the man who has his arms around me makes me brave enough towantto be bold.
“Hey, Streeter?” I ask, just a little breathless when I pull back. His pupils are already blown, and I’m a little caught up in the way his lips are just a little red from the pressure of his kiss. Still, his eyes are on mine when I glance up.
“Hm?”
“You know how we were talking about our favorite books last night?” I can almost hear the blush crossing my cheeks in the tone of my voice, but that’s fine. I can be bold while being shy… and if I’m being honest with myself, there’s something about the man standing in front of me that gives me this odd, quiet confidence to ask for things that I’ve never thought I could ask for.
