The weatherman warned his viewing audience to stay away from windows and to take cover in a bathroom or lower level. There wasn’t a bathroom down here, but it was plumbed for one. Figuring huddling there would be safer than standing in front of the television with the basement windows behind us, I headed for the tangle of pipes instead. Tasha’s hand in mine, I sat, my back against the wall.
She sat next to me, her knees to her chin, her arms wrapped protectively around her. She was shaking like a leaf. The wind continued blowing and the sirens continued wailing. From the TV came the drone of the weatherman repeating his warning. I was starting to think this could be the real thing.
Hail ticked the windows harder now. And when a loud thwack! shook the house, Tasha shrieked and buried her face in my T-shirt. I wrapped my arms around her. Fuck if I knew what to do if we were Auntie Em’d to Oz, but if holding her helped her feel safe, that’s what I would do.
I liked that she trusted me to protect her. I was rarely accused of being a hero. Scratch that. No one had ever accused me of being a hero.
I kissed the top of her head, inhaling the rainwater scent of her hair. She smelled amazing. She felt amazing. Half of me didn’t want this to end.
“H-how long will it last?” she asked my shirt, then let out a nervous laugh. “Now I’m stuttering.”
Half my mouth lifted into a smile. We both knew her stutter was caused by fear. Which made me wonder if my own stutter had something to do with fear. I wasn’t scared of the tornado. I couldn’t afford to be—not with her in my arms.
I licked my lips and shut my eyes, focusing on the smell of her hair. Then I took a deep breath and said, “Talk to me, Tasha.”
Did you hear that? Just as clean as you please. My heart mule-kicked my chest. That steady voice reminded me of the old me. The me who could talk rapidly, clearly. The words used to drip off the tip of my tongue like honey. Damn, that felt good. To talk without stammering or stuttering or pausing to say “um” or “uh.”
“I don’t want to talk.” She squeezed me harder. “I’m terrified.”
“You’re safe,” I assured her. Ridgeway was in a valley. Tornados seemed to bounce right over us. The storm would likely yield no more than a few downed branches.
She lifted her head, brushing my jaw with the tip of her nose. “Let’s not talk.”
My skin caught fire. Did she mean—?
I dipped my head, and our breaths mingled in the slight space between our parted mouths. The same want flowing through me like lava reflected in her darkening gaze.
So, I kissed her.
There, on the floor of the dusty basement, the wind howling and the television celebrating our imminent doom, I lost myself in the feel of Tasha’s mouth. In the soft pull of her lips and the sensation of her hand gliding over my chest.
I was suddenly grateful I’d worked hard on my body. She liked touching me.
I had no idea how long we made out. Long enough that my breaths had shortened, and she was half on my lap. I cupped her ass and settled her over what was quickly becoming a raging erection. My tongue in her mouth, I speared her hair with my fingers and deepened our kiss. When I let her take a breath, she rewarded me with a tantalizing mew.
God. Her mouth. That was my favorite part of her.
So far.
My dick throbbed.
“Cade,” she begged.
As usual, I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to sneak my fingers into her bra and feel her nipples peak. I wanted to slip my hand into her shorts and find her slick and ready. I wanted to—
“Cade,” she repeated on a half-laugh.
“What?” I growled, out of breath and blind with lust. My hand tightened at the back of her neck.
“The siren is off,” she said against my damp mouth.
Don’t care. I kissed her but she pulled away again.
“This is unethical,” she argued, and I hoped to hell she was kidding. “You’re my patient.”
“I’m, um, im…patient,” I corrected. Welcome back, speech problem.
“I should probably go.” And then she scrambled off my lap.
Tasha
I maneuvered off Cade’s lap, bumping the part of him that had grown larger since he’d pressed his lips to mine. Not only larger, but harder.
Lord have mercy. What was he hiding behind his jeans? I wanted to find out. Which was exactly why I should grab my backpack and hightail it home.
“You have a little problem,” I couldn’t help teasing as I stood. I had a little problem too. My inner bad girl had taken the controls. She was encouraging me toward Cade even as I took a defiant step away from him.
I didn’t want to go home. I wanted to strip him naked and lick every inch of his fantastic body. The house was ours. The storm was over.
And those kisses…
Gah. Those kisses could really scramble a girl’s brains.
“Little?” His eyebrows pulled into a frown as he stood. “M-more like huge. Huge problem.” He held his hands apart as if illustrating the size of a bass he’d caught on a fishing trip.
Sexual frustration had crept in, and with it his stutter. Before, I thought maybe his tongue needed a workout. But now I was questioning my theory. I was hooked onto the control thing again. Did he feel out of control right now? What if I gave in? Let him take charge?
Of me.
My neck heated before that warmth climbed to my cheeks. The idea of him in control was incredibly erotic. But it shouldn’t be. Not after Tony had governed way too much control over me.
Sex therapy! my seductress within shouted.
She was not helping.
I opened my mouth to tell him I was going to leave, again, but before I could, his hand looped around my wrist.
“Wuh-we have work.”
“You want to work?”
He nodded, keeping a hold on my wrist. Then, as if in answer to my silent prayer, he lowered his lips to kiss my neck. Oh, that felt nice. As he tongued the soft flesh behind my ear, his fingers wandered to the gold chain around my neck.
His eyebrows rose in question.
“My mom bought it for me,” I said. “It’s a good story.”
“T-tell me.” He closed his eyes, pained. When he reopened them, his gaze snapped to my mouth. I couldn’t leave. Not when he was being this brave. This vulnerable.
“Come on.” I clasped his hand. “Let’s grab our beers and I’ll tell it to you.”
Upstairs, he opened the front door and we stepped onto the porch for a brief inventory of the damage. A few large branches had been downed from the oak tree out front. The backyard proved similar. Smaller branches and leaves were strewn about, and one of the chairs from the patio set had been knocked over. No other damage done.
I thought back to the kiss with Cade and wondered if I could describe that as “damage.”
Knowing he’d worry, and not wanting to be interrupted, I sent a quick text to my dad to let him know I was okay. I added a tidbit about how I was studying at the campus library. Just in case.
Beers in hand, Cade and I walked out to the garage and then up to his room. He sat on his love seat and I lowered myself next to him. After a nervous sip of my beer, I winced. It was warm. Other than the introductory sip I’d taken before we ran for cover, I hadn’t had another taste.