Blaze

Fifty-One; James

Rap rap rap rap.

I shake my head and swipe the back of my hand across my eyelids, attempting to wipe away the groggy effects of deep sleep. It's no use. My head is still foggy and my limbs are still sluggish. I reach down and untwist the sheet wrapped around my ankle and fall back on the mattress. My vision clears, and my eyes focus on heavy, rustic beams and a wood panelled ceiling.

I'm at the cabin.

Rap rap rap rap.

I'm at the cabin! My arm darts to the right and slides across cold, empty sheets. The reality crashes down on me all over again, the bitter truth weighing heavy on my chest. She's not here, she stood me up.

Rap rap rap rap.

What the hell is that noise?

My other arm darts to the left to retrieve my cell phone from the nightstand. It's nothing more than a glorified alarm clock in the middle of these woods with no reception or wifi. The time reads three fifty-seven a.m.

Rap rap rap rap.

I sit up straight, now alert. Whatever is going on, in the middle of the night in the middle of the woods, can't be good. Unless...

I don't allow myself to consider it. I didn't even tell her where I was.

I move with purpose, pulling on the pajama pants folded on the nightstand and grabbing a worn henley from the closet. I rush down the narrow spiral staircase as quickly as my wide frame will safely allow. Heavy, sluggish legs drag me toward the front door.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The knocks come harder, more aggressive, and I halt. I eye the gun safe in the corner before turning and leaning in toward the peep hole. I turn my head, close one eye, and ...

Holy shit.

I lean my weight into the palm resting on the door and pull in a deep breath. This doesn't make any sense. I need confirmation. I exhale and lean back into the peep hole.

She brushes a strand of dark hair away from her grayish, feline eyes. She rocks back and forth and hugs herself, her shoulders rounded forward. What is she doing here?

She raises her fist and pounds on the door again. A shiver moves through her and she starts to turn.

What am I doing?

I rip the door open and the familiar current runs through me the second she turns and her gaze meets mine. The magnetic pull feels stronger out here, alone in absolute darkness and quiet. Neither of us speak. We just stand there, our thirsty eyes drinking each other in.

I'm so confused. There are a thousand things I want to say. Questions I need to ask. Where have you been? What happened? Why are you here?

But none of that matters because she is here, standing before me in the flesh. She's looking up at me with wide eyes and bright cheeks, her breath visible in the cold night air.

There are a thousand things I want to say, but only one thing I want to do.

I reach for her and grab a fistful of crimson wool at her waist. I pull her toward me and she willfully falls into my arms. Hauling her against my chest, I step backward and slam the door behind her. Her eyes follow my fingers as I slip them beneath the nylon strap on her shoulder. Her bag hits the floor with a thud and I allow my fingers to wander down the side of her sleeve.

I need her closer.

I tilt her face up toward mine with one hand, while the other splays across her lower back and pulls her even further into me. I cling to the slight bit of restraint I still have and lower my face to hers slowly, meeting her lips gently.

This kiss is soft and reverent, a prayer. A humble offering of gratitude for the blessing of her presence. A song of praise for whatever brought her to my door. It's also just a start. I fully intend to worship every inch of her.

The pace and pressure of our kiss crescendos. When her lips part and her tongue meets mine, she moans into my mouth, and my restraint snaps.

Her back is against the door before I know what's happening. We're a wild flurry of lips and tongues and teeth. Her hands are frenetic, grabbing at my shoulders, my neck, the back of my head.

My greedy hands try to take in equal measure, but her damn jacket is in my way. I fumble with her buttons with shaky hands. Why are there so many? She releases the back of my head long enough to slip a hand in a crevice between buttons and tug. I follow her lead and rip her coat open, buttons raining down and bouncing off the slate tiles under our feet.

My hands slide beneath the thick wool and push the coat off her shoulders. She shimmies her arms and it drops to the floor as my hands roam over the thin, soft cotton covering her lush curves. I grab her hips and tug her toward me, but she's still not close enough. My right hand wanders down her side while my left reaches behind me and grasps the hands that have resumed tugging on the back of my hair. I pin her arms to the door, opening her completely up to me.

A grin tugs at the corner of her mouth, her lips rising on one side. I dip my head and taste her smile. Her mouth is heaven, but it's not enough. I want to feel every part of her. Taste every inch. My lips work their way to the corner of her mouth, across her jaw and down the elegant column of her neck. I lightly suck on the spot where her neck meets her shoulder and she whimpers and writhes against me. Dear God if that isn't the sweetest sound I've ever heard.

I am hard and hot and throbbing and I know I have to stop. This isn't how this should happen with us. Not the first time, anyway. I release her wrists, using my now free hands to hold the side of her face and slowly pull away.

She is having none of it. Her hands take advantage of their newfound freedom and explore my torso. One slides under my shirt and up the ridges of my abs and I bite back a hiss at the feel of her cold hands on my hot skin.

She groans when I circle her wrist with my hand and very reluctantly pull her away from me. She leans into me and sighs when I bend down and kiss her forehead. She should show up on my doorstep in the middle of the night more often.

When I pull back, she peers up at me and it happens again. The current. The crackle. The pull. Our smiles fall and she reaches out tentatively. She runs her hand down the front of my shirt. Her fingertips trace the line of my waistband.

Fuck.

No.

She just showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night. She literally just walked in the door. Neither of us have uttered a single word. I have to slow this down. I have to stop it. I have to...

She strokes me from hip to hip. Her fingertips dip below my elastic waistband as she continues her welcome assault on my mouth.

No!

I somehow find the will to grab her wrist and halt the migration of her wanderlust fingers. I can't let her get those soft hands around me. If she does, this is over. I will impale her to this door without even so much as a hello.

My first time inside her will not be rushed and sloppy, half asleep in the middle of the night. I've dreamed about this for too long. She deserves more than that. This thing between us demands more. No, when we do this I will approach it like I approach everything else, meticulously and thoroughly with singular, obsessive focus.