Sitting up in the crib, I run my hands over the top bar of the side wall or whatever it’s called. Axel lowered it earlier, when he put me to bed, so I know it can be moved.
There has to be a latch of some kind. There!
I resist the urge to crow in triumph when my fingers brush over something metal. It takes me another few minutes to figure out the actual mechanism, but eventually I manage to flip both latches.
The wall slides down with a deafening crash. Or maybe it only sounds deafening to me because it’s so silent in the room otherwise. Either way, I freeze, going perfectly still as I wait for Axel to come barreling through the nursery door to spank my ass.
When several seconds tick by with no angry Daddy storming into my room, I let out a slow, shaky breath and will my racing heart to calm as I climb down out of the bed.
Okay. I’m out of the crib. Now how the fuck do I get out of this room?
There are only two ways that I’m aware of. I can go through the window and take my chances dropping down into the snow from the second floor of this giant house.
Or I can sneak through Axel’s room.
Going through the window presents multiple problems. The first being that I’m not even sure the windowopens. For all I know it’s locked or something. And even if I can get it open and I can jump down into the snow without getting injured, I’m currently wearing nothing but one of Axel’s giant shirts and a pair of his thick, fuzzy socks.
That snowmobile isn’t going to do me any good if I die of hypothermia before I get to town.
My boots, or rather the boots Auntie Gray let me borrow, are still downstairs by the front door along with all their outdoor gear. It’s all way too big on me, but for my purposes, it could work.
Just have to get downstairs first.
With slow, careful steps, I creep toward the door separating my room from Axel’s and grip the knob. Holding my breath, I give it a painstakingly slow turn, wincing with every creak and scrape of the metal until the door pops open.
His room, like mine, is lit by moonlight, though there’s no cute little nightlight to help guide my way. Stepping inside, I give my eyes a moment to adjust to the new terrain as I scan my surroundings. In the giant bed, Axel lays sprawled on his stomach, his bare back glinting in the pale glow through the windows.
My mouth waters at the sight of him. Before now, I wouldn’t have said I had a thing for large men. But there’s something about him, about all that raw, unbridledpowerlocked inside one person that has my heart beating triple-time in my chest.
If I wasn’t currently trying to escape him, I’d be tempted to climb into his bed and…
Stop that. Youaretrying to escape so get on with it, already.
Right. Forcing my gaze away from the giant in the bed, I creep toward his bedroom door, again slowly turning the knob and praying the sound doesn’t wake him even though it sounds loud enough to wake the dead.
But I make it without disturbing him and with one last look for my so-called husband, I slip out into the hallway.
Toward freedom.
Axel
What ismy little runaway bride up to now?
In the dark, I watch her sneak over to the door and turn the knob so slowly I almost wonder if she’s moving at all until it pops open and she slips out into the dark hallway.
Maybe she wants a snack. If that’s the case, she will definitely be going over Daddy’s knee for a stern reminder that when I put her in bed she’s meant tostayin bed.
But if that’s not all she’s after, well…
Throwing off the covers, I slip from my bed and pull on a sweatshirt and a pair of pajama pants. And, just in case she’s up to something more malicious than just sneaking a snack, I pull the thick leather belt from my jeans before following her into the hallway. She’s already halfway downstairs, moving just as slowly as she did in my bedroom, and I have to fight back a smile at how adorably Little she looks. Exactly like a child sneaking downstairs to see if they can catch a peek of Santa on Christmas Eve.
I follow with equally slow steps, careful to not make a sound and alert my little runaway to any potential danger to her bottom. My palm is positively itching to connect with her bare ass again, but I want to know exactly what I’m punishing her for before I make my move.
So I follow her down the stairs but not, to my disappointment, the kitchen. Instead my Little girl makes abeeline straight for the front door, where she plops down onto her diaper-clad bottom to pull on the boots Gray loaned her to play in the snow earlier.
What thehellis she up to?
From the shadows, I watch her lace up one boot and then the other before pushing back up to her feet and reaching for a jacket. Not the one I put her in to go play this afternoon, but a larger one that falls down to her knees. Wrapped up in the jacket, she grabs a scarf and then a hat, and reaches for the deadbolt on the front door.
