Page 68 of Somewhere You Belong

“What?” I wipe my face with the sleeve of my jacket, which doesn’t do much since my sleeve is soaked too. “Do you have a flashlight? Candles? Water? Some pre-packaged food?” I hold up the plastic bag of supplies I brought with me just in case, all stuff I grabbed from my place and the store yesterday, anticipating this visit even though I was trying to talk myself out of it.

“Of course not! I’ve never done this before! I’ve never had to, but that doesn’t mean I can’t figure it out.” She shakes her head at me. “I’ve been doing many things on my own for years and will be just fine without your help!”

This stubborn fucking woman.

I could leave and let her stay on her soapbox. But now that I’m here, I’ll be damned if something happens to her when I could have prevented it.

“And did you think you’d just drive down the road right now to gather those things in this storm? Because newsflash, that’d be stupider than you’re being right now by not letting me in.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Goose. Now let me in before I get taken away in this wind!”

She bites her bottom lip in contemplation as anger flares in her eyes, but I can’t stand out here any longer, waiting for her to make a decision.

“Christ, woman. I don’t even know why I’m here!” I spin around in a circle, clutching my hands in my hair. But then, before I can talk myself out of it, I spin back to face her and dig my heels in, determined not to back down. “But fuck it. I am.”

So the next move I make is one I know she won’t be happy about, but I don’t give a rat’s ass. Her safety is top priority right now, despite my better judgment. I just hope she doesn’t fight me too much.

Or maybe I hope that she does so I can shut her up with my mouth.

Chapter fourteen

Willow

Before I can respond, he tears open the door that I stupidly had unlocked, pushing me aside prior to slamming it shut and locking it like I should have.

“What the hell are you doing, Dallas? This is breaking and entering!” I shriek as his broad frame towers over me, drenched from head to toe.

He narrows his gaze at me before closing the distance between us, worry and frustration wafting off him. “I’m making sure you’re safe, Willow. Because if something were to happen to you, and I fucking walked away, I would never forgive myself.” He points a finger at his chest. “I’ve lost too many people in my life because of shitty circumstances and instances where there was nothing I could do. But this? This I can protect you from.”

Rearing back, I’m caught off guard by the command in his voice and the clear worry in his eyes. But something tells me that pushing him away would only make him react more, so instead, I relent, eventhough my stomach is in knots just being in the same room as him again.

“Okay. Fine.”

His jaw clenches like he was ready for a fight. “Wow. What a relief to see you can be reasonable.”

“I’m fucking terrified right now. And even though you’re the last person I wanted to see, I guess it’s better than being left alone in this chaos.”

He huffs, wiping water from his face. And at that moment, I take the opportunity to really take him in.

His dark hair is plastered to his forehead, drenched from the rain, dripping water all over his face and the floor. His signature black shirt and jeans are soaked as well, and his boots are squeaking as he takes steps toward the counter to drop off the bag of supplies he brought with him.

He came over with supplies.

For me.

He wanted to make sure I was safe.

This is exactly why resisting him has been such a feat. But after what I learned Saturday night, my reasons for staying away have multiplied exponentially. I guess the weather had other plans to make avoiding him even more difficult, though.

“Could you throw these in the dryer while we still have power, please?” he asks, yanking his jacket and shirt over his head in one smooth motion before I can respond.

And holy hell.

The man standing before me is rippled with muscle and sinew that I want nothing more than to paint with my tongue. His tan skin is glistening from his rain-soaked clothes, and then he turns to me, arching a brow as I stand there, shell-shocked, his hand outstretchedwith his clothes, waiting for me to speak. But all I can do is stare at the water droplets cascading down his chest, rolling over his nipple that I have an alarmingly strong urge to bite.

“Willow?”

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