Page 10 of Hunting Gianna
“Thank you,” she says. It’s soft, so soft, like she doesn’t know whether I’m friend or foe.
“I thought…” A pause. A furrow of her brow that I’ll remember. That I’ll savor.
“Mhmm?”
Her lips purse and I’m mesmerized. “I thought I was going to freeze to death.”
The delight she gives me feels too easy. Too free. “Not if I had anything to say about it.” I move closer, but not too close. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
She nods, her eyes scanning the cabin, not quite focusing. “The storm,” she says. “My car… I couldn’t get it started. It was terrifying out there.” She meets my gaze for the first time, and it lands on me with a dizzying force. “You saved me.”
Yes. Yes, I fucking did.
Of course, I also almost killed her.
But who gives a fuck about semantics when it worked.
She’s still disoriented, her words slow and tangled. “I was at the old campgrounds. No one knew I was there.” I notice everything. How she swallows, how her lip catches between her teeth. “I thought I was going to die out there so I tried to get to my car. And then I tried to get to the lodge.”
She has no idea.
“You’re lucky I saw you collapse outside.” My voice steady, my pulse not. “I’m the only one up here.” I hold her gaze, let the weight of it settle between us. “Tea?” I offer. “It will warm you up.” She nods, her face softening in a way that I want to destroy.
“Can I stay until the storm passes?”
I pretend to think about it, but I’ve thought about nothing else. “Of course.” Her small sigh of relief is a gift, an unexpected pleasure that lands too sweet to bear.
Her hair falls in wet curls, and I follow the line of them as I move to the kitchen. Each step is its own pleasure, each distance is a distance that means nothing, that means more than everything.
I hold the sleeping pill between my fingers, my breath so calm and so calculated. My eyes tracing the outline of her mouth, the promise of her breath, the rise and fall of her chest.
I imagine her under me, limp and exposed and willing.
It feels better than it should.
The pill dissolves completely, and I’m already back at her side. I want to fuck her, but she’s not ready and neither am I. All that her being awake is going to do is unleash the feral urges that I’m currently keeping under tight control.
Her hands wrap around the warmth, sipping slowly, steadily, until she meets my gaze and blushes. She’s grateful.
“Who are you?”
“A friend. Names Knox. And you are?”
“Gianna.”
I hear the fatigue in her voice, watch it tug her mouth. “It’s nice,” she says, “being warm.” Her eyes drift, the edge of a new panic fading, an unfinished “I should…” before she interrupts herself with a yawn, a yawn that makes me hard. Again. “What did you…?” Her confusion, her sweetness. Oh Gianna, you beautiful naive little bird. “What did you say your name was?”
“Don’t worry about it now.” I lay a hand on her shoulder. Gentle. Possessive. “You should rest. Use my bed. You’ll be more comfortable there.” I nod toward the open door, where a big, heavy duvet lies, waiting to be wrapped up in her. “I need to check the generator anyway.” She hesitates. “Go ahead. It’s all yours.”
It’s all fucking mine.
She makes it halfway across the room, then her steps falter, and I’m right there to catch her. She smiles, embarrassed, a sound like laughter catching in her throat.
"Sorry,” she mumbles. “Must be more tired than I thought.”
The slow blink of her eyes, the sleepy sag of her shoulders, the way she presses her lips together, all of it consumes me until I’m dizzy.
I help her to the bed, and her body gives out the moment she hits the soft comforter.
