Chapter Thirteen
Malcolm
Curled up in the hammock, I should have been shaking with anxiety after a scene like the one in the house. I’d normally convince myself that Angry Man was going to drink those beers and change his mind about letting us off the hook. I’d be coming up with excuses to explain a black eye or an arrest record to my family and debating whether I should just run off into the storm and be done with it all.
But in the hammock, I felt fine. Gunner and I had to spoon each other to fit. His arms were wrapped around my chest, holding me tight, and one leg was thrown over my body. I felt each breath he took, and my weight shifted with the rise and fall of his chest. The wind rocked us gently, and when lightning struck in the mountains, I caught a glimpse of our reflection in the window.
It felt good to be held by him. It was like I knew he was close, and even though he might do something brash or impulsive, having him there meant that I was safe. It felt so good, in fact, that I could almost convince myself nothing was wrong.
Almost…
I felt his stubble against the back of my neck. The tickle of it made me wiggle up a little closer to his warmth.
He pulled the sheet tight around us. “You calming down?” he said softly, his voice rumbling in my ear.
I nodded, feeling grateful he hadn’t noticed the tears in my eyes earlier. Crying like a child in front of him once was humiliating enough. “Yeah, I’m good.”
His arm tightened across my chest, and with a sharp breath of air, I pushed my butt out. His crotch was pressed against my backside, and he felt as hard as I was. Smiling, I wiggled back against him one more time.
“Fuck,” Gunner whispered. “Sorry that got so intense.”
The wind howled through the forests again. “I’m just glad we don’t have to try to drive back in this. You think that guy is going to be pissed in the morning?”
Gunner scoffed. “He can go to hell if he tries to talk us that way again. As soon as the storm has passed, we’re out of here anyway.”
“Just promise me you won’t try anything,” I said softly.
“What do you mean?
A sharp gust of wind cut across the porch, carrying little droplets of rain with it. “Just please don’t try to fight him or anything. Or steal something.”
Gunner grunted, clearly displeased with my request, and we fell back into silence. I wished that I could just keep my mouth shut, and I knew that he had a tendency to talk a big talk. He was probably just trying to impress me, anyway, or maybe to impress himself. But after he mentioned robbing my landlord, and after he told me about the knife throwing competition he got in at work, I was nervous he’d start doing the things he talked about doing, instead of just tossing around threats and big stories.
I at least knew enough not to say the other parts I was thinking. I didn’t point out that the angry man was much larger than Gunner or that he probably had a gun hidden away somewhere in that house. And I definitely didn’t admit that I found him ridiculously hot.
I had always been turned on by rough, powerful men. I just always thought that guys like that would stay firmly in the realm of my fantasies. But now that Gunner seemed into me, I realized I wanted something more than just awkward dates with other uptight guys my parents picked. I wanted more than masturbating alone in my bedroom. I wanted a real connection, a real relationship.
The way it felt, to be held by Gunner and rocking in the breeze—I wanted to feel that way forever.
With any luck, we’d be out of there in the morning and never see the angry man again. But in a weird way, I felt I owed him something. Cornered and trapped with Gunner, his angry glare burning into us, I had felt just as turned on by him as I felt terrified. He was ruggedly handsome and so powerful that I couldn’t help fantasize about the things he might do to me, and to Gunner, too. I was vulnerable, needy, and frightened, and for the first time in my life, I could fully admit how much that turned me on.
I reached my hand backward, resting it on Gunner’s thigh. When he made a soft, gentle noise, I realized he had finally fallen asleep. And with the storm still gusting outside, I closed my eyes and drifted off with him.
* * *
I jolted awake the next morning when a blast of music shot out of the house. Gunner jerked to attention beside me, and we both fumbled into each other, nearly falling out of the hammock. When we recovered from the scare, I was folded up underneath him, confused and disoriented.
The door to the back porch slammed open, and the angry man stuck his head out. “Rise and shine, boys!”
Gunner groaned and pressed his forehead against mine. “This asshole again…” he muttered.
I pulled my body out from underneath him, rummaging around on the floor until I found my glasses. “Well, we did break into his house.”
The heavy metal blasting over the stereo was loud and obnoxious enough that I couldn’t even consider falling back asleep. Instead, I dragged myself out of the hammock, yanking my wrinkled clothes on and taking a second to fold up the sheet and blanket while Gunner dressed himself. “We’ll just take care of that fallen tree and hit the road,” he muttered, placing his hand on my back to guide me into the house.
Inside, I was surprised to see the guy up and going already. The storm had passed, and the forest was quiet again. I had assumed I would wake up at seven on the dot like usual, but seeing how much light was shining through the windows, I realized I must have slept in. He was standing at the stove, tending to some bacon and eggs. His chest was bare, and a pair of tight-fitting jeans hung off his hips. He was a solid, sturdy man, with thick muscles and dark, curly hairs across his chest. His tattoos were faded but still crisp enough to catch my attention. His whole left arm was covered with an intricate design in black and white, with snakes and vines entwining behind a motorcycle.
Mainly, though, I couldn’t help but stare at his face. His eyes were a piercing blue color, and his pupils looked brilliant beside the worn creases of his crow’s feet. His lips were full and thick, and the square of his jaw was so strongly defined that I accidentally stood there, my mouth hanging slack while I studied the gorgeous cleft in his perfect chin.
