Page 39 of Full Throttle

As usual, my internal clock woke me up at six on the dot. Memories of last night flooded my brain, the ceiling long forgotten.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” I whispered, sitting up and burying my face in my hands. A dull ache hummed around my rib cage, but I couldn’t focus on that right now. Getting blown up in a car was one thing, but having a sex dream about Cain?

I needed to be checked into a nut house or sign up for the circus because I was a fucking clown. Then, I had to go and—

Images of the dream flashed behind my lids, halting my breath.

Cain fully clothed in his coveralls, bending me over his Silvia, his hands smeared with oil as they gripped my bare hips, pulling me back onto his long, hard co—

“No,” I refused, lifting my head and tossing the covers back. “We aren’t going there, Nikki.”

I ran my hands through my hair as I shivered, goosebumps covering my legs. I put most of my weight on my good leg and looked down to assess my wrapped ankle. The swelling had gone down. Thank God. The sooner I was healed, the sooner I could help Oasis.

Quickly, I hobbled into the closet and pulled off my shirt slowly, tossing it onto the floor before grabbing an over-sized hoodie and a pair of black leggings. As I dressed, I noted that the pain was still there, but it wasn’t as intense as it had been. The doctor told me that I was healthy, that my wounds should heal fairly quickly.

You’re lucky to be alive, Ms. Wells.

When I was dressed, only slightly achy, I slipped on my house shoes and made my way to the bathroom. I didn’t pay attention to anything else, wanting to get my teeth brushed and face washed. My day didn’t start until both of those things were done. Five minutes later, I was slowly hobbling into the kitchen, mindlessly braiding my hair and humming a tune from one of Sullie’s bands. I didn’t bother with the crutches right now, because I could manage just fine without them—at least in the loft. I looked out the long window that ran a good length of the loft, stopping completely.

St. Louis was gone, replaced by a frozen hell. The sky was gray, rapid frozen rain coming down, blanketing the city with the streets, cars, and buildings around Sullie’s in ice and snow. I shook my head, the stress beginning to settle in. I couldn’t drive anywhere and the boys were supposed to be coming back today to keep me company for a bit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“What the—?”

“Power lines are down a few streets over,” a deep, familiar voice rumbled from my left.

A scream shot from my mouth as I jumped, turning and slamming back into the wall. Pain shot through my mid-section and up my leg. “Ahh,” I winced, doubling over.

“Jesus,” Cain growled. I heard his footsteps pounding towards me, and then I was lifted into his arms.

My hands gripped his shoulders as I stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. “C-Cain?” I stammered.

What the hell was he doing here?

He was glaring down at me, his pale blue eyes fierce and piercing. A shiver went down my spine as I inhaled his scent. His arms held my weight steady, my chest partially against his, my feet hanging over one arm. The warmth from his body was pleasant. We hadn’t been this close—in years.

Not to mention bridal style.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he clipped, his voice hard. My eyes drifted over the muscle jumping in his jaw, mesmerized by the way the cool light from outside made it seem even sharper. I couldn’t stop my eyes as they took more of him in, moving up the line of his jaw to his sharp cheekbone, over his slightly crooked nose (a gift from his brother when he was only fourteen), to finally, those compelling, pale blue eyes.

“Did you fucking hear me?” he asked, his voice harsher than before.

And just like that, the spell and the dream from last night, vanished in an instant.

Blinking, I remembered when and where I was. Cain and I weren’t on good terms anymore, but if we wanted to get to a decent place again, he would need to stop being a dick. The only way to get Cain to stop being a cocky motherfucker was to put him in his place.

“I should be asking you that question!” I snapped in his face. I kicked my feet, pushing against him. “Let me down!”

“You’re fucking hurt,” he said, ignoring me, his tone short. “When you need to walk, you take your crutches. Is that clear?”

Heat flooded my cheeks and my lips tightened. I glared at his profile as he walked across the loft. “You don’t tell me—”

I let out a yelp as he moved quickly, catching me off guard.

Suddenly, my back was on the couch, and he was looming over me, a blonde lock hanging down as his eyes pinned me to the cushions. One of his hands was braced on the back of the couch while the other was braced on the edge of the cushions—by my hip. His chest heaved with a quiet fury as he scanned my body slowly. When his eyes finally made it back up to my face, he leaned in a bit more, so close I could smell the peppermint on his breath.

“Yes. I. Do.” Each word came out with a threat lingering behind it—a challenge.

The air between us was thick now, and I found it harder to breathe. His eyes held mine and all I could see in his bright blue pools was hatred for me.

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