Page 10 of Single Dad's Christmas Gift
“I’ll stay by the door.” I’m not letting him out of my sight. The only thing I can think of right now is calling for help. My phone has no reception; I checked earlier. I’m positive no one could come out in this weather, anyway. Fallon has the skills to survive in this situation, I don’t. Seeing him makes me feel safe.
The cabin is made of wood and doesn’t look like it’s big.
Fallon bends and moves a stone aside. He picks up something which I figure out is a key the moment he inserts it into the lock on the door. He shines the torch around the inside for about a minute.
“Get your bag. Be careful on the snow.”
He strides to the back of the truck and carries out a loaded crate.
“What’s that?” I ask, clutching my bag.
“Emergency supplies.”
I follow him into the wooden cabin.
CHAPTER SIX
Layla
IT’S THREE IN the afternoon yet it’s so dark outside, it feels like nighttime. I’m glad I used the toilet before we left the community center; there isn’t one here. I wouldn’t feel comfortable taking care of business outside on my own. Asking Fallon to stand watch is out of the option.
The cabin is old, but clean. There’s a small table and four unmatched chairs around it, even a few pieces of crockery. It took Fallon only a few minutes to get the fire going in the old fireplace, with logs that were neatly stacked in a corner of the room.
We ate tuna and crackers from Fallon’s emergency crate; the carrot cake I made and downed it all with coffee.
I’m sitting in front of the fire, feeling warm with my legs inside a thick sleeping bag. Even with a blanket around my shoulders, it became too cold to sit at the table. The cabin was empty too long, so with the amount of snow that fell earlier, it would take a while longer before it became warmer.
I’m feeling guilty that I’m the only one warm when the sleeping bag belongs to Fallon. He wears a coat and shirt only, which means he doesn’t feel the cold so much, nevertheless, it’s freezing.
“Your carrot cake is slightly better. Don’t tell Mom that.”
I can’t stop feeling he’s trying to cheer me up.
“I won’t. Aren’t you cold? Your sleeping bag is huge. We can share it.”
Fallon gazes at my lips and I remember that almost kiss. He’s a little too far; I can’t read the expression in his eyes in the candlelight. Yet, there’s a stillness about him that makes me wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.
“Layla.”
My hand tightens on the blanket. It’s the first time he’s ever called me by my given name. In his lilting, deep voice, it sounds like an invitation to pleasure.
“If I share that sleeping bag with you, I’m going to fuck you.”
My core clenches. My nipples swell. I’ve never been aroused so quickly and intensely. My body is ready for Fallon.
I bite my bottom lip. He keeps staring. I try to remember why this might be a bad idea. I don’t sleep with men I haven’t dated for at least two months. Didn’t I do that with Dean? Look how it turned out. Being a good girl broke my heart.
Just this once. I want to touch him so badly.
“Okay.” Is that throaty voice mine?
With two strides, Fallon reaches me.
He casts his blanket aside as he kneels in front of me. He reaches for the back of my neck and draws me close to him.
“I’ve imagined what you tasted like every night,” he whispers against my lips.
Then he’s kissing me like a man starved, our tongues tangling against each other. His hand slides down my back to my ass.
