I felt myself drifting then my mind went black for what felt like a very short period of time. But that moment of solace was abruptly disturbed when I felt like I was floating.
Shaking my head to gather my wits, I opened my eyes to see what the warmth against me was when I was confronted with a chest. One that smelled woodsy and warm. I inhaled the Amberwood and let the warmth wash over me…then my brain my caught up.
“I…what..hey!” I stammered out as I swatted at his chest.
“What?” Johnny asked as he carried me up the steps.
“You can’t pick me up!”
‘Uh, I think I just did.”
“Ugh, you know what I mean. You can’t just touch me. And where do you think you’re going? Put me down!”
“I will in a second,” he said calmy as he walked to the bedroom.
My mind and my heart raced. What was he about to do?
“You can’t do this!” I shouted as I banged on his hard chest.
He stepped to the bed then put me down and walked to the door.
Oh God…he was going to shut the door and come back to take advantage of me.
But instead, he walked through the door and shut it behind him.
I waited for a moment and heard the steps. I heard a few more sounds like doors locking, the fridge, then the sounds on the TV went from murder shows to weather.
I jumped from the bed and flung the door open, stepping to the small landing that overlooked the living room.
“Hey, what is your problem?!”
He was spread over the couch, still only wearing a t-shirt and the long-johns which didn’t leave much to the imagination. He tilted his face to look up at me. “No problem now. I have my bed.” He grinned and continued, “Did you want me to stay up there?”
I growled through a clenched jaw then stomped back to the bedroom and slammed the door.
My jammies were laying over my luggage, so I changed then climbed into bed. After tossing and turning for several minutes as my anger, yes it was anger and most certainly not excitement, died down. I closed my eyes and the fresh memory of his scent and his strong body cradling mine quickly violated my thoughts.
How the hell did he even carry me up the stairs? No man had picked me up in years. Tossed me around on the bed a little yes, but I don’t know that any man in recent years had the strength to lift me. If they did, I’d never know. I didn’t mind my weight and I didn’t have any problem finding men that seemed to enjoy me, but it would take a big strong fellow to scoop me up, much less carry me upstairs. Yet, he didn’t even seem to be winded. It was better than I’d like to admit, being picked up that way. But I should be mad. Yes. Mad. Not hot. And bothered.
“Down girl,” I whispered to my lady bits.
This was going to be a long and torturous entrapment.