“Pixie, it’s me,” I say, and she starts to calm. “Why did you leave me?” I calm too when I have her where I need her. She’s safe.
When she turns around, she sniffles and squares her shoulders. Her eyes are brighter in the dim light, but I can’t make out very much more than that.
“I need to go,” she says as she tries to pull away from me.
“You’re coming with me.” I pull her closer to me with one hand while using the other to pull her bike along with us, making her walk with me back to the entrance where a cab is now waiting. “Get in, now.” I demand, and she slips into the back seat. I push the bike to the trunk, and the driver comes around to help me secure it in there with a cord.
When I slide in next to her, I grip her thigh, pulling her closer to me as I give the driver my address.
“Why are you doing this?” Her question stops me, and I turn to look at her.
“When we get to the house, we can talk, pixie. When was the last time you ate?” I take her in more and remember how thin she looked. She’s now dressed in jeans that are ripped up like people pay for, but I can tell hers aren’t store-bought. The softness of the denim against the palm of my hand tells me hers are worn. Her jacket isn’t very thick, and I start to slip off my coat to put around her shoulders when she trembles. “You’re freezing.”
“No. I’m fine.” She puts her hand on my chest.
I stop what I’m doing and reach down to lace my fingers with hers and raise her hand to my mouth. I kiss her delicate wrist, her fingers freezing cold against my skin. I grab her other hand and wrap my hands around them, holding them tight to warm them up.
“Pixie, where are your gloves?”
Her eyes drop and I lift her chin so I can look in her eyes in the darkness. I want to kiss her. I lean forward, and just as my lips are about to press to hers, my eyes cross and everything goes dark.
Chapter 3
Kiera
Coal’s head falls against me, banging into my forehead, and his body goes lax. He passed out on me. I was about to be kissed for the first time, and now he’s out cold. Shoot. I don’t know where we are going, or why he wanted me to go with him. All I know is that with his body next to mine, I’ve never felt this safe and warm. My body feels alive as the hair along my arm stands on end. His breath against my face makes me realize how close I was to feeling intimacy for the first time. But now I’m left feeling needy and desiring his touch.
I look out the windshield as I wrestle Coal’s big body to lay back. I recognize where we are just as the cab turns up the circular driveway. I’ve been here many times. I clean here on the weekends; I even helped with decorating the place. In the garage is the brand new, bright red Lincoln MKX Mr. Bridger gave me. I cried when he gave it to me because I knew I couldn’t keep it. He didn’t know I was leaving town. I couldn’t tell him, and I wouldn’t take the car with me. That would be wrong. But no one has ever helped me like he did or cared about me like that since my aunt died.
When the cab comes to a stop, I shake Coal awake. He grumbles and pulls out some bills to pay the driver then stumbles out of the cab. I get my bike from the trunk and I’m about to take off and leave when I turn to see Coal trip on the porch. I push the bike up the stairs and set it against the bench on the porch.
Helping Coal to his feet, I take the keys from him to open the door and help him into the foyer. His big body dwarfing mine, I can barely hold him up. But everywhere he touches me tingles. He leans down and kisses my hair, and I hear him inhale as if he’s smelling me. I want to pull away but more importantly, I want to melt into him. Let him teach me passion and caring for only one night.
“God, you smell so good. Come on, pixie.” He slurs next to my ear and my breath catches when I feel his tongue lick the shell. I wonder why he keeps calling me that. He pulls away and grips my hand as he drags me up the marble and wood circular staircase. I’m afraid he’s going to fall when he stumbles a few times, but he keeps his feet under him and keeps us moving up the stairs. When we reach the top, he spins around looking at all the doors and halls leading off the landing. “Um?” His brows drop in confusion.
“Are you looking for your room?” I ask him.
“I don’t have a room here,” he says, starting toward the open area in front of us that looks down into the family room.
“Your room is this one.” I turn to my left and point at the double doors that lead into the master bedroom.
“How do you know?” He slurs again as he pushes the doors open, dragging me behind him.
“I clean the house on the weekends for your father.” I stop. “I mean, I used to clean for him.”
He takes in the room and walks over to the large platform bed with a heavy wooden headboard. My hand is still firmly in his grip. The room is decorated in browns, whites and grays. The round sitting area off to the side reminds me of a turret you’d find in a castle. There are two in the house, the first being here in the master, and the other across the house. The second one isn’t decorated but I always imagined it as the perfect art studio because it overlooks the lake and valley in the distance. The house is perfect and a testament to Mr. Bridger’s love for his son and deceased wife. I could never understand why Coal avoided coming back here. I would spend all my time in this house trying to make it a home. It was the only decorating I couldn’t do. How do you make a house a home?
On that thought, I need to get out of here before I think about Coal making this a home with someone else. Or worse, him selling it.
“Okay, so now that you’re in your room and safe, I’ll lock up on my way out.” I try to pull my hand out of his to get away from him. My body has been on fire ever since we walked into the room. I’ve never wanted another person to touch me like I want him to touch me. I can even imagine him touching my scars and not being repulsed by them.
He pulls off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor as he lets go of my hand.
“Strip, pixie.” He demands, and I step back finally feeling the fear I normally do around others.
“I’m not that kind of girl.” My chin tips up as I stare him down, my voice sounding stronger than I feel. “I don’t care what anyone told you, I don’t sleep with random people.”
He steps toward me, or more like stumbles toward me, and I step back again. My heart starts to crumble thinking he thought I was special but instead he just wants a quick fuck.
“Pixie.” His voice is soft, and his eyes slide to the door. I see the instant he worries I’m going to flee. “I don’t want that right now, because the first time my cock slides into your tight pussy, I’m going to be sober and you’re not going to fear me. I just want to sleep with you against me. Please,” he begs, and his words do something to me. My body reacts by causing moisture to gather between my thighs. I’ve never slept, just slept, with anyone. I’ve never done the other kind of sleeping—the sex kind—with anyone either. But just to be held… My aunt wasn’t touchy feely like that. She would hug me, but she never curled up next to me in bed when I had a nightmare or when I would go to her. I swallow the thickness in my mouth as I wonder what it would feel like to just be held.