Safe House

by Alternate_Alien

Summary:

****UNDER CONSTRUCTION***CHAPTERS WILL BE CHANGED***READ AT OWN RISK***

Your perfect summer by the pool comes to a screeching halt when terrorists put a hit on your father's life...and yours! Now you're forced to spend your last remaining months of freedom hidden away in the middle of nowhere, stuck with a grumpy, (but kind of hot) bodyguard that wears a bucket hat and thinks you're a spoiled princess. Could things get any worse?

Chapter 1: Cruel Summer

---

It's a rare occasion that you get to enjoy a day of quiet and solitude. After graduating college, you had hoped you could come back to your childhood home and relax for the next two months of summer before having to get serious about your career. A nice break from the intense study sessions, brutal exams, and chaos of your senior year at university. 

The thought of spending your days at the side of a pool, soaking up the sun while getting day drunk on wine was what got you through your last semester. And it didn't even take a whole day, more like six hours, before that hope came to an abrupt, screeching halt. 

Being the daughter of a US foreign diplomat usually had its perks. You'd traveled to some of the most beautiful, luxurious places on Earth, spent Christmas in Italy, summers in Belize, and could afford almost anything you wanted. It even allowed you to pursue a degree in art history that most people wouldn't be able to turn into a career and while you knew a tad bit of nepotism would jump-start your future, you were okay with that. 

What you weren't okay with was the occasional chaos that surrounded your father and his particular career choice. You weren't a stranger to it, having spent most of your life surrounded by your father's numerous assistants, but for fuck's sake, you had hoped for at least one full day of poolside tanning and getting drunk to celebrate your graduation—which no one but your aunt and best friend attended. 

Sure, your dad had sent a gift basket, a dazzling graduation card with a handwritten note in his assistant's perfect handwriting, and some cash, but you'd have given it up for some actual attention from him. 

Then again, maybe the chaos surrounding your childhood home on a random Thursday morning was the real reason why he hadn't attended. At least, that's what you were hoping for. Knowing your father, this was something new that popped up in the last couple of hours. 

It wouldn't be the first time.

Standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at the hustle and bustle of the numerous assistants and yes men running back and forth, ducking in and out of your father's office, you couldn't help but wonder what the hell was going on. Not that you'd ever been included in the everyday life of your father's diplomat duties, but you weren't a child anymore. He hadn't seen you since Christmas and this is the welcome you get? 

Even the housekeeper, Mrs. Bradley hadn't greeted you or offered you a nice treat or drink from the kitchen and she always welcomed you when you came home. Which meant something big must be going on. 

Anxious tensions settled like a knot in your stomach as you slowly made your way down the circular staircase. As it wound around the main foyer of your father's home, you could duck and peer into his office across the entryway. 

It was a man's office through and through. Dark green walls, rich, pine paneling, and shelves filled to the brim with books you'd never be interested in reading. Law books and historical biographies, most of which looked more like textbooks than things one would read for enjoyment were some of his favorites. 

Framed diplomas and pictures of your father shaking hands with various presidents and prime ministers hung between the windows and bookshelves and you used to love listening to him tell you about each picture. It wasn't until you were a teenager that you started wondering why he had no pictures of his only daughter on the walls. 

"Sir, General Davenport is on the phone." Martin, your father's number one, right-hand man, crossed the room and handed a cell phone over to your father. You'd known Martin most of your life. He never cared for children, teenagers, or young adults and barely paid any attention to you at all. You treated him the same. 

As your father took the phone from him and turned to face the windows, you noticed for the first time that a man you didn't recognize was standing just inside the office. Though you couldn't see all of him from your position outside in the hallway, you could see the left side of his body and you frowned in confusion. 

He was wearing dark green fatigues, boots, and a brown shirt that stretched tight over his bicep. But the strangest thing was the bucket hat sitting on top of his head. Well, that and the facial hair covering his jaw. His military-like presence was a stark contrast to all the men in suits and ties running to and fro, their faces cleanly shaven and hair cut short and neat. 

Your father spoke quietly to General Davenport—whoever that was—and you crossed your arms over your chest as you stood in the hall, curiously watching. Martin was busy with another cell phone, balding head ducked low as he typed furiously at the screen. Another assistant raced past you, nearly knocking into you and you scoffed as the guy hurried into the office and presented your father with a few papers. 

The sound of annoyance you'd made gained the attention you had been hoping for, but instead of your father lifting his head to notice his only daughter standing at the door to his office, it was someone else that turned to face you. 

Bucket hat guy was definitely military. Even without the fatigues, you could tell just by the way he stood with his arms crossed, legs evenly spaced apart and if that wasn't enough, the dog tags hanging in the center of his chest were a dead giveaway. 

You blinked as he turned his head to you. Just beneath the brim of his hat, his eyes caught yours and you blinked in surprise. He was tall, older than you by at least fifteen years, and though the look he gave you lasted no more than a single second, your confusion froze you to the spot before he turned back around.

Who was this guy?

The sound of your name snatched your attention and you jumped, eyes cutting to the desk at the center of your father's office. He was still on the phone but his eyes were on you and as he lifted his hand and beckoned you inside the room, you were suddenly too nervous to actually go in. 

After hesitating for only a moment, glancing sideways at the bucket hat guy once more, you hurried inside and stopped in front of your father's enormous, oak desk. He held up a finger to silence you before you could even open your mouth, said a quick goodbye to General Davenport, and finally ended the call. The sigh he let out was heavy and worrisome and you stuffed your hands in the pockets of your jeans. 

"Everything okay?"

Another sigh. Your father stood from his chair and motioned to Martin behind you. An unspoken command passed between them and half a second later, the door to the office shut with a soft click of the latch. You glanced over your shoulder and were surprised to see the Bucket Hat still standing there. 

For some reason, his presence made you nervous—more nervous than before, that is. 

"Listen, sweetie," your father's voice pulled your attention back to him and he tapped his fingers on the corner of his desk. A nervous habit you noticed dozens of times before. Usually, when he disappointed you by telling you he couldn't come to your first piano recital or he had a meeting with the prime minister of India that took precedence over your tenth birthday party. "Something has happened."

"Okay…something bad?"

"Some bad people have made threats on my life."

Not surprising. He was a diplomat. Being in the public eye and close to multiple governments and countries ran with a few risks. One of them being a target on his back. Which was why he had damn good security. 

"Okay. So, are we on house arrest or something?"

He glanced over your shoulder to his assistant and you shifted nervously from one foot to the other. You hated the tiptoeing around the actual topic as if he were treating you as delicately as peace negotiations instead of just talking to his own daughter. After twenty-two years, you'd think he'd know how to actually talk to you without thinking you'd launch some nukes in retaliation.

"Not exactly." He stepped out from around the desk and stood in front of you, forcing a smile that was anything but reassuring. "They didn't just threaten my life but several colleagues as well…and our families."

"I'm your only family." Your mom had bailed early in your life, unable to take the pressure and neglect that came with being the wife of a highly regarded diplomat, and while numerous girlfriends and one fiancé came and went over the years, none had actually stuck. Couldn't take the lifestyle after it became clear his job would always be number one in his life. The only one that had stuck around through it all was you.

"I know. And you're what's most important in my life, dear. Which is why I've hired someone that can keep you safe."

You frowned.

Huh?

Your father looked away from you and gestured across the room. Slowly, you turned and followed his hand to find Bucket Hat right where you'd last seen him. Arms crossed over his chest, standing as still as a statue by the door, Bucket Hat didn't look at you this time, his intense stare focused on your father instead. Your eyes drifted down to the facial hair covering his jaw and most specifically, his lips pressed into a thin, serious line. It was only when your father's voice cut through the silence of the room that you finally pulled your attention away from the man standing behind you.

"Captain Price is a highly skilled soldier in the British Special Forces. He's capable of keeping you safe and getting you to safety if someone threatens you or comes near you."

Stunned, you whirl around to face your father and shake your head, bewilderment pinching your face into a frown. "Wait…so you're telling me he's like my bodyguard?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you."

Blech!

Not at all what you had planned for your summer of relaxation and freedom. Not only was a threat made on your and your father's life but now some guy was going to be your shadow? 

"For how long?"

"As long as it takes."

The voice came from behind you, deep and accented, and if you had heard it under any other circumstances, you might have liked the sound of it. But as it was, now in this situation, it only made you purse your lips. Annoyance was bubbling to the surface, heating up with every passing second. 

You looked up at your father again and crossed your arms over your chest. "So, what, I can't leave the house or something?"

He sighed and again, your anxiety heightened with a clench of knots in your stomach. Oh no. You just knew you weren't going to like what would come out of his mouth next. 

"No. You won't be in the house at all."

You stared at him and shifted on your feet again. "Then where will I be?"

"We're moving you to a safe house." Bucket Hat said, making you gnash your teeth together almost painfully. Forget what you thought earlier. That accent was definitely going to get on your nerves if you had to listen to it for much longer. 

"A safe house…is there a timeline you can give me? Are we talking about days? Weeks?"

Don't say it. God, please, you thought, tilting your head back to stare up at the wood beams of the ceiling. Do not say it. 

"Weeks…" your father said with a sigh that shut your eyes at the mere sound of it. "But it could be months."

"You have got to be fucking joking."

And just like that, your perfect summer of poolside relaxation, getting drunk on expensive wine, and enjoying your last few months of freedom were ruined. Now, you had to spend them in some safe house with a stranger in a bucket hat. 

Fucking perfect.

---

 

Chapter 2: Princess

Notes:

Reader is a spoiled brat and Price ain't having it. I think he gets a little bit of enjoyment from tormenting you.

---

"You have got to be fucking joking."

That phrase had become your personal motto over the past twenty-four hours. After all but being told you were going into hiding and shoved into the back of an SUV with a strange man hired to basically babysit you all summer, you were at your wit's end and didn't know how things could get any worse. 

Which was a stupid thing to think because apparently, they can always get worse. And now that the SUV had reached your destination and you stood in the pathetically poor excuse for a gravel driveway in the middle of literally nowhere, you saw just how bad things could get. 

A small cabin sat wedged in between several enormous trees with broken branches, twigs, and leaves strewn over the aged tin roof. It didn't look big enough for one person, let alone two. If it had two bedrooms, you'd consider it a miracle but judging by how things were going in your life currently, you weren't holding out for any divine interventions. 

"Unfortunately not, Princess."

The voice behind you startled you and for just a brief second, you realized you had almost forgotten the man who had driven you up here. For the six-and-a-half-hour drive, he said about ten words to you and none of them were the answers to the questions you asked. Everything he told you was vague and could barely be considered responses at all. Most of the time he would sigh or grunt and after getting nowhere with him in the first half hour, you turned to the tinted window and ignored his presence. 

With your arms folded over your chest, you turned to find him pulling the trunk of the SUV open. That damn bucket hat never left his head and you glared at the strings that hung on either side of his ears. As he grabbed your suitcase—far too cute and expensive to be trudged out here in butt-fuck nowhere—you imagined yourself knocking the hat right off his head with your purse. He shouldered a large black duffel bag, a camo backpack, and a few black packs that hung from his forearm. But when he dumped your suitcase on the gravel, ignoring it as it toppled onto its side, your jaw dropped. 

"Um, hello? Don't just throw my shit around."

"Please," he sighed, shutting the trunk of the car. His eyes met yours as you stomped to retrieve your suitcase, dusting the pebbles and dirt off the plaid surface. The corner was scuffed, only drawing more fiery anger up from the depths of your being.

"Please what ?" You really weren't in the mood to deal with this right now. 

As Bucket Hat passed you, he paused just long enough to stare down at you, his eyes narrowed into a glare.

"Where I'm from, we say please. Don't just throw my shit, please ."

The emphasis on each word was infuriating and you stared at him with incredulous fury as he brushed past you and continued his walk up to the cabin. As he stomped up the three steps onto the porch, he paused long enough to glance back at you still standing near the car. His eyes shifted to the scenery, taking a look around at the endless trees and thick underbrush but all you could do was stand there and glare daggers at this insufferable man. Until he spoke, of course.

“You’re welcome to stay out here, but the sun will set in an hour or so and I don’t think the bears will be as polite as I've been.”

Polite? Surely he was joking. Absolutely nothing about him has been polite in any way from the moment you first met him and as much as you wanted to remind him of that fact, his words didn't go ignored. You glanced around at the low sun hidden behind the numerous trees and swallowed tightly. A bear attack would be the icing on the tragic cake that your summer was turning out to be. Though it would have been satisfying to show him you weren't afraid of British men in bucket hats or bears, you weren't stupid.

Driven to stupid decisions because of your anger, maybe, but not stupid.

Shifting on your feet, you snatched the handle of your suitcase and grabbed the strap of your backpack before stomping after him. When he turned back around to face the door, you could have sworn you caught the tiniest smirk curling the corner of his lips. If he thought you wouldn’t smack it right off of his face, then he was sorely mistaken. 

You were in no mood to take shit from some bucket hat-wearing, douche bag today. Thankfully, he didn’t wait for you to catch up to him on the porch. In two steps, he reached the door, shoved a key in the lock, and twisted the door handle. The hinges creaked in protest as he pushed the door open with the tip of his boot and while you seriously didn’t want to see the inside of this place, your curiosity got the best of you. 

As he marched in, you peeked around him and blinked in surprise.

Okay…

It wasn’t that bad.

Not exactly a summer retreat, but not straight out of Evil Dead or something either. 

The interior was dim and dust motes floated in the beams of the setting sun streaming through the door. A living area took up the width of the cabin, with a small, L-shaped kitchen to the right and a couch, loveseat, and eating nook on the left. In the center of the living room was a rug that had seen better days but the upholstery on the furniture wasn’t as outdated or moth-eaten as you’d been picturing in your head. 

“Better get inside, Princess.”

Ugh!

And then he had to go and ruin the only shred of hope you’d had since your father broke the news to you yesterday afternoon. With a dramatic roll of your eyes, you stomped into the cabin and pulled your suitcase behind you, not bothering to even shut the door, hoping it annoyed him. If it did, he didn't show it, and once you were out of the way, he simply kicked the door shut with his heel and turned to the left.

The black bags he carried in the bend of his elbow were set down on the small breakfast table beneath one of the front windows and he glanced back at you. “Bedroom’s in the back.”

“Bedroom? As in one ?”

Far too busy rummaging through one of the black packs he'd brought in, pulling out various food items, he didn't even attempt to respond. But you knew he heard you because you heard his sigh. It was getting old. Why was he irritated? He was getting paid to be here but you were here against your will.

You opened your mouth to voice your annoyance but never got a chance. He lifted his head and found you exactly where you’d been standing. He pointed at the couch across the room and forced a tight, unfriendly smile.

“Don’t worry, Princess. I’ll take the couch.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Please,” he said quietly, returning to the bags on the table. “Don’t call me that, please .”

UGH! 

Though you wanted to scream at the top of your lungs and possibly throw something at the wall, you knew it would do no good. So instead, you snatched your suitcase handle once again and didn't even acknowledge the whole thing wobbling to the side after being tossed so haphazardly from the car before. You stomped off in the direction he'd pointed earlier to the bedroom, dragging the suitcase behind you, and found a narrow hallway with a door directly in front of you and one to the right. The one in the middle of the hall was slightly open and you could see a sink and various generic toiletries sitting on the edge, which meant—

You spun on your heel and wrenched the next doorknob, shoving the door open with a huff that blew a few strands of hair away from your face. At least you got a bed and a private room.

Hooray for one tiny, almost non-existent miracle. 

Once you managed to kick the bedroom door open all the way and maneuvered your suitcase in the door, you slammed it shut behind you with a kick of your foot and spun to face the bedroom. Your new bedroom. A shudder rippled through you at the mere thought and you reached over to smack the light switch on the wall.

A single lamp on an oak dresser flared to life and you frowned at your surroundings.

There was a bed in the center of the room pushed against the far wall, a dresser, a nightstand and that was it. Well, and a window, but there were thick curtains hanging over it with a tacky pattern of brown and white chevron stripes, blocking out any sunlight. Odd choice of curtains for a man but then again, someone who thought camouflage bucket hats were an appropriate, everyday accessory probably shouldn't be trusted to pick out decor.

Glancing down at your suitcase, you ignored it for the moment and pulled your backpack around to your front, shoving your hand into the front pocket to find your phone. A tap on the screen brought it to life and your eyes instantly moved to the top corner. No service. So no internet.

Wait.

Oh, god, no.

Spinning on your heel, you threw the bedroom door open once again and hurried back out into the main living area. Bucket Hat had moved to the kitchen and stood in front of the sink, putting cans of food away in the cabinet above it. He didn’t turn to look at you but he was definitely aware of your presence. Though he appeared to be unphased, there was the slightest tension that pulled at his shoulders. If you hadn't been looking at the stretch of his back at the right moment, you might have missed it altogether. It shouldn't have satisfied you to see the reaction and if your current miserable predicament wasn't looming over your head like a shadow, you might have smiled. Unlikely though. 

“Tell me there’s wifi.” After a moment, you added through clenched teeth, “Please.”

“Afraid not.”

“Why?”

He leaned back and peered at you from around the cabinet door. A look of amusement laced with exasperation flashed across his face. “Who do you think would come out here to run the lines for that? Or pay for it?”

“I don’t know! How am I supposed to survive an entire summer without internet or any contact with the real world?”

“You do realize your situation, right?” He shut the cabinet door and turned to face you fully, one hand on the counter and the other on his hip. Even though he was on the other side of the room, you could almost feel the aggravation wafting off of him as he stared at you. “You’re in hiding, Princess. That means hiding from the real world and the internet. Which reminds me.”

He moved, taking three steps before he closed the distance between you and as satisfying as it would have been to hold your ground and stare him down as he approached, you couldn't help that your body responded on its own, retreating on your heels. If he noticed, he didn't seem to care and your brows pinched in confusion as he held his hand out in front of him. "Give me your phone."

"What?" You held it to your chest and twisted away from him, eyes wide and blazing as you lifted your gaze to his face. "No!"

Bucket Hat rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his broad chest, tilting his head to the side as he stared at you. "You're aware I can take it if I truly wanted to, aren't you?

You didn't doubt him but that didn't mean you were going to give in so easily. "You're aware that you can't just take things without my permission, aren't you? I'm sure my father is paying you well and—hey!" 

In a flash, he moved, his hand coming out of nowhere to snatch you by the wrist. His hold was firm but gentle and while you appreciated that he was careful not to hurt you, the sudden shock of him being so fast quickly gave way to fury as he easily pried your cell phone from your fingers. As he released your wrist, he spun away from you and snatched a different device from his pocket. Your attempts to race around him to grab your phone back were futile. He barely treated you like a threat, spinning to the left as he held your phone against the other device. "Relax," he said with a quiet chuckle. Heat lit your face, prickling just beneath the flesh of your cheeks and you tried—and failed—to grab the phone from him. "I'm installing a location blocker." 

Your eyes bulged and glanced quickly at the two devices in his hands. Your screen lit up, a picture of you and your best friend Jenna at graduation flashing before a notification window popped up. Captain Bucket Hat tapped his thumb to it, flipped your phone around, and forced another tight smile as you snatched it back. 

You stared at him, unblinking, unable to even begin to fathom how the actual hell you were going to get through this summer from hell as the smile dropped from his face and he stepped around you to return to the kitchen. 

Too stunned to even speak, let alone move, you stared at the spot he had just occupied long after he passed by you. When was this nightmare going to end? Wasn't it enough that there was a hypothetical hit on your life? What had you done in a past life to deserve this?

“Bathroom’s back here, by the way.” It was getting hard to hold back the frustration that pressed tight against your throat. You’d always been an angry crier and while you really didn’t want this asshole to see your tears, you couldn’t quite move just yet. At least not until he poked his head back around the cabinet to drop yet another bomb on you. “Oh, and I hope you don’t mind cold showers. Hot water heater’s broken.”

That was all it took. 

With tears stinging your eyelids, you stormed to your bedroom and slammed the door shut behind you, hoping the wood splintered and the hinges bent. Though you should have unpacked your suitcase, you didn’t want to even think about it. Unpacking would only make it feel permanent and for just a little while longer, you wanted to throw a pity party for yourself and mourn your ruined summer.

You flung yourself onto the bed, buried your face into the pillow, and screamed until your throat was sore and your head was pounding.

---

 

Chapter 3: Expectations

Notes:

Price underestimates you sometimes but he'll learn soon :)

---

Something was knocking—softly at first and just enough to rouse you from a deep sleep. You hadn't meant to fall asleep after throwing a proper temper tantrum earlier, but with absolutely nothing to do to keep you occupied since browsing the internet wasn't an option, you'd drifted off on top of the stiff, scratchy blankets of your new bed. 

And now, after not getting an answer from you the first time, something was knocking a bit louder. You lifted your head off the lumpy, feather pillow and turned to narrow your eyes on the window across from the bed. The late afternoon sunlight had disappeared from around the edge of the curtains, replaced with inky darkness and you frowned. How long had you been asleep?

Long enough to make Captain Bucket Hat worry, apparently. Just as the thought pulled your attention to the door, the man on the other side spoke up. 

"If you don't answer, I'm coming in there whether you like it or not, Princess."

What the hell was his problem? 

Couldn't he just leave you alone? 

Sure, his job was to make sure you were safe and not dead by some terrorist assassin, but this was ridiculous. Groaning, you sat up on the mattress and rubbed at the corner of your eye. "If you call me Princess one more time, I'm knocking that stupid bucket hat off your head and burning it," you snapped, hoping he could feel your anger on the other side of the door. "What do you want?"

You heard his boots shift on the floor, drawing your eyes down to the crack beneath the door to where you could see the shadow of them. "There's food if you're hungry."

And with that, he stomped away from your door. In the seconds after, you stared at the crack where his boots had been and found something strange happening to your face. The corner of your lip curled into a small smile but not because you were particularly appreciative of him for offering you food.

Mostly you were smiling because it was obvious he was trying hard not to voice his irritation at you. It was evident in the tightness of his words like he was clenching his jaw or fists to keep from snapping. 

It shouldn't have given you any kind of satisfaction at all to torment the guy, but it did. And it was only fair since you knew he had gotten the same amount of pleasure from being a jerk to you earlier. So Captain Bucket Hat could dish it but not take it? Typical. 

Though you really didn’t want to see him right then, your stomach was running on fumes. After only eating a granola bar and an iced coffee way earlier that morning, you were actually starving. And though he probably microwaved a couple of cans of Chef Boyardee, you could smell a faint trace of something and your stomach rumbled in protest. There was no denying your hunger and the longer you sat here debating on whether or not to give in, the more your stomach seemed to gnaw at your insides.

Ugh.

You peeled yourself out of the bed and glanced down at yourself. Sometime during your nap, you’d kicked your shoes off and your shirt was twisted around your midsection. A glance in the mirror hanging above the dresser across the room and you could see just how hard your exhaustion had hit you. You raked your fingers through your tangled hair and bent over, gathering the length of it in your hands to make a quick, messy bun. As you stood up and pulled a few strands loose around your face, you yawned and made sure you didn’t look like you were half-dead before throwing the door open.

The smell of the food hit you all at once and you blinked in surprise. Whatever it was, definitely wasn't Chef Boyardee. You pressed your hands to your belly as you turned the corner and peeked into the small kitchen. A pot was on the stove with steam lifting out from the center of it and whatever was inside, smelled amazing. Who knew Captain Bucket Hat could cook?

He stood at the stove, taking up most of the space in the kitchen and as you came around to stand near the counter, you noticed just how tall he was. And wide.

The dude was built.

Your eyes lowered to his bicep and how it stretched the sleeve of his t-shirt, lingering for only a moment before your gaze took in the rest of him. He’d changed since you saw him last and was now wearing a pair of dark wash jeans, a gray t-shirt, and those damn boots that thumped the floor with every step. The bucket hat, however, had been retired for the night. 

Well, at least your father had the resources to get you a guy that actually looked like he could take on a threat. That was reassuring.

So caught up in staring at your bodyguard’s body, you hadn’t realized that he noticed you standing there, gawking at him like a lunatic until his laugh snatched you out of your thoughts. 

“Gonna stand there staring at me all night, Princess, or do you want to eat?”

And just like that, the first upswing of your mood since stepping into this insufferable cabin took a dive. 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you glared at him. “Didn’t I ask you to stop calling me that?”

“No,” he said, and though his back was turned, you could just tell he had that stupid smirk hidden behind all that scruffy facial hair. “You didn’t ask. You threatened.”

“Well, let me threaten you again. If you don’t stop calling me princess, I’m going to—”

His laugh—soft and raspy and on anyone else, it would have been attractive—shut you up and you stared as he turned away from the stove and tilted his head to stare at you. “It’s cute that you think you’re threatening me.”

Cute?

Maybe it’d been too long since you had a man’s attention and even longer since you’d last actually slept with someone but for whatever reason, and completely against your will, your body betrayed you. Warmth flushed across your cheeks and as you stared at him, lips pressed into a tight line, a couple of butterflies tickled the inside of your belly. 

You quickly shook your head to rid your midsection of them and rolled your eyes—mostly at yourself. “Whatever,” you mumbled, not yet moving all the way into the kitchen. “I'm too hungry to argue with someone as stubborn and annoying as you.”

“Good. Hope you like chicken,” he grunted as he grabbed a plate from the cabinet. “And potatoes.”

Better than you’d been expecting. After seeing him unpacking all of those cans, you’d half expected to eat bland soup or beefaroni for the next couple of months. 

Slowly, you inched into the kitchen and lifted onto your tiptoes, peering into the pot he’d been stirring earlier. The mashed potatoes looked decent and the chicken he’d seared in a skillet didn’t look half bad either. 

An empty plate appeared beneath your chin and you flinched, darting your gaze up to meet his. He shook the plate and you hesitantly grabbed it from his hand, watching as he took a step back, grabbed his own food, and a bottle of water, and crossed the room to take a seat at the small table. 

Without saying much else, you scooped out a portion of each and turned to stare at his back. To absolutely no one's surprise, he was already digging in, not waiting for you to join. 

Whatever.

Not that you wanted to sit with him anyway.

You stayed put in the kitchen and ate at the counter, stabbing a piece of the chicken to bring to your mouth. 

As soon as it touched your tongue, your eyes widened and you stared at the back of his head in shock. What the hell? It was fucking delicious.

You took a bite of the potatoes and nearly moaned. How the hell had he done this with such limited supplies? 

Though you refused to let him know you were actually enjoying yourself, it was hard to keep from shoveling it all into your mouth or making noises of approval. Not that you had much to compare it to after spending the last several months at school where you considered a pack of M&M's and vending machine chips a meal. Even at your father's house, there was never much to actually eat unless his housekeeper knew you'd be home and stocked the pantry with your favorite foods. 

Maybe your luck was turning around. Maybe whatever god was up there intervened and gave you a little miracle since you were stuck in this nightmare situation. Either way, you ate every bite and even considered scraping the plate for a tiny last bit of potatoes and finished at the same time Captain Bucket Hat did. As he stood from the table, you were directly in front of the stove, trying to sneak another spoonful of potatoes from the pot and as soon as you spotted him out of the corner of your eye, you dropped the spoon and backed away.

Your face flushed from being caught actually enjoying his food and you quickly cleared your throat, looking at the wall, the cabinets, anywhere but at him. But there was no avoiding it. You’d been caught. He definitely saw your eyes roll back in your head after that last bite and there’d be no hiding it with sarcastic threats to his hat this time. 

There was only one thing you could do and you really didn’t want to do it. He’d gone out of his way to actually make something good and despite the fact that you were still majorly pissed about being stuck in this cabin all summer, you'd been raised with proper manners and knew when to thank someone. Even if you really, really didn't want to thank him.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “It was really good.”

“Glad you liked it.” 

“I didn’t expect you to be such a good cook.”

Another soft, raspy laugh pulled a smile across his face and he took your plate from the counter before dumping it and his into the sink. “Well, I’m glad I exceeded your expectations, Princess.” 

He turned to face you with a cheeky smile and you found yourself glancing down at his lips. They were smirking—no surprise there—but you didn't exactly hate the sight of it as you did before. Until he spoke, of course. 

“You can exceed mine and do the dishes.”

What?

In an instant, you met his gaze to see him lift his eyebrows, that smirk on his face just begging to be smacked off of him. Though your hands twitched at your side, he turned on his heel and disappeared around the corner before you could even blink. Barely half a second later, the bathroom door shut, and the shower turned on. You turned your head, still stunned by him, and stared at the dishes in the sink and on the stove. 

Oh, that bastard!

You had half a mind to say fuck it and go right back to bed without doing them. And that’s what you almost did. You even took a step toward the hallway but didn’t get far. 

If you didn’t do them, you wouldn’t put it past him to barge into your room in the middle of the night and dump them onto your bed. Or just let them sit and stay dirty for days—possibly weeks—until you finally caved in.

It was best to just get it over with now.

Gnashing your teeth, you flipped the faucet knob and filled the sink up with water just as a voice drifted from the bathroom. He was singing. Off key and loudly.

He was doing it to annoy you.

Rolling your eyes, you glanced into the living room to check for more dishes, but something else caught your eye and any thought of dirty plates or cups simply vanished from your mind. Hanging by the strings on the back of one of the chairs at the table was a familiar, camo bucket hat, practically begging for you to snatch it right up. And honestly, he deserved it after his little display of force earlier. You'd snatch his hat just as easily as he snatched your phone out of your hands. Though your hands were already wet and soapy, the corner of your lips slowly curled into a wicked smile and you hurried across the floor.

For a few seconds, you simply stood there and stared down at it, droplets of water and soap hitting the floor around your feet. Would it be too petty, too immature to take something of his? As the song he was belting out in the shower hit a high note that he butchered, you glanced over your shoulder to the mountain of dishes piled up around the sink and on the stove and scoffed. Fuck it.

You snatched his hat from the chair and raced to the bedroom, stuffing it deep under your mattress before sprinting back into the kitchen. He may think he’s so clever and so witty and cute because he was some tough military guy, but he seriously underestimated you. 

If he wanted that stupid hat back, he’d have to go through you, and yeah, he had you beat in size and strength, but you were petty. 

And pettiness went a lot further than muscles. 

---

 

Notes:

yes, I head canon Price as being a damn good cook. Even if it's just chicken and potatoes.

Chapter 4: Game On

---

Okay, so your perfect summer was a bust, and you were stuck with an insufferable prick of a bodyguard, but at least you found a way to entertain yourself without the internet. A whole night and half a day had passed since he forced you to do those dishes last night and you thought he would go almost go an entire twenty-four hours without noticing his hat was missing. Thankfully, it didn't take that long.

Right after watching him stuff his face with three sandwiches for lunch—which was kind of astounding, you had to admit—he stood from the table. From where you sat in front of the dresser, finally unpacking your suitcase to store your clothes away for however long you were forced to stay here, you could see him stop by the table and the realization crept slowly across his face. He peered down at the chair where the hat should have been and upon seeing it gone, Captain Bucket Hat launched an official search for the damn thing.

Stifling a laugh behind a t-shirt you were folding, you listened to him cursing quietly to himself while rummaging through his bags by the couch. By the time you gave up unpacking your clothes and reached the hallway to peek around the corner, he was stripping the cushions from the couch. Without his hat, you could see his face clearly and the frown that pinched his brows and pressed his lips into a line was more satisfying than his dinner the previous night. It was damn near impossible to keep the smile off your face and you lifted your hand to your mouth, pressing your fingers to it.

You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned a shoulder against the corner, watching him snatch one of his duffel bags from the floor. He searched through it a second time, shoving clothes this way and that and when he couldn’t find it, the sound of his growl brought a giggle to your throat.

Which instantly caught his attention. Slowly, he dropped the bag onto the couch and straightened his spine before turning on his heel, eyes narrowed and full of suspicion

For several moments, he simply glared at you. The corners of your lips were twitching but you refused to let them curl into a smile.

“Looking for something?” You tried to make the question sound as innocent as possible, but it was almost immediately obvious that you knew.

“Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“Not in the mood today, Princess.”

You shrugged and lifted your hands, palms up in confusion. It was such a struggle trying to swallow down the giggle that threatened and tickled the back of your throat. “Not in the mood for what?”

Oh, yes, he had underestimated you. 

You weren’t going to let him just bully you around anymore. 

Not if he wanted to see that bucket hat again. Sure, he could toss you—literally—out of the cabin and tear the place apart, but he'd never find it.

“My hat,” he practically growled. "Where is it?"

"Why would I know where your hat is?"

"Stop answering my bloody questions with a question. You wouldn't look all smug and sneaky if you didn't take it." He took a step forward and pointed at your face which apparently looked quite smug and sneaky. Your lips betrayed you and stretched into a grin that you had absolutely no control over and though you lifted your hand to try to cover, it was too late. He had seen it. 

With another growl that you could practically feel in your bones, he stomped past you and didn't stop until he was throwing the door open to your bedroom. 

And if the hat was still under your bed, you might have been afraid of him finding it. You'd found a better hiding place the night before though and were fairly certain he wouldn't find it so easily. 

You followed him and crossed your arms over your chest, watching him stand in the doorway, studying your room. Did he think you'd just have it laying out in the open? 

With a sigh, you leaned a shoulder against the doorframe and tilted your head back to look up at him. 

"I don't know why you think I'd take your hat. And honestly, I don't know why you wear it anyway. Bucket hats are way out of style."

"Boonie."

His response pinched your brow into a frown and you blinked. "Huh?"

Captain Bucket Hat turned his head and glared down at you. "It's called," he spoke through clenched teeth. "A Boonie and I'd like it back. Now ."

"Please," you said, your lips stretching into a devious grin. "Where I'm from we say please ."

 The quickest flash of surprise appeared behind his eyes but he covered it with anger before you could even enjoy it. "Please," he growled.

There wasn't a drop of politeness in the word and you shrugged your shoulders. "I don't have it." 

"I'm not joking, Princess."

This time, he turned to face you and towered over you by several inches. He ducked his head and leveled his glare at you and you couldn't even lie…it was a menacing look. One that made you second guess taking his hat. It clearly meant a lot to him. 

But he was being paid to keep you safe and that insured your safety at his hands, stolen hat or not. He couldn't touch you. 

So you lifted your chin in defiance and smiled sweetly up at him. "I don't have it, Captain. Now, if you'll excuse me," you said as you slipped between him and the doorway. It was awkward with your chest brushing against his as you inched your way into the room and, to no one's surprise, he didn't budge an inch to make it easier for you. "I think I'll have a nap."

"I'm not playing this game with you."

"Who said I'm playing a game?" You shook the hair from your face and finally managed to move into your bedroom. You put a hand on the door and grinned up at him. "But if you really want that hat back, maybe you should earn it back." 

"What?" 

"Maybe if I didn't have to do the dishes or if I had wifi to occupy my attention, I wouldn't need to tease a certain Captain by hiding his hat where he'll never find it." You stepped back and slowly closed the door, staring up at him through the narrowing crack. He never backed down, never so much as blinked. You'd really hate to be his enemy and wondered just how many times he'd stared down bad guys with a similar look. The thought made a shiver slip down your spine and you pursed your lips.

Just when the door was cracked open an inch, enough space for just one of your eyes to look out of, you narrowed your gaze on his face. The fury written in his stare was almost hilarious. You held back your laugh and dropped your voice to a whisper. 

"And you really won't ever find it, by the way."

He didn't let the door shut completely and stopped it with the toe of his boot long enough to get the last word in. "I will find it, Princess. And when I do—"

"It's so adorable that you think you're threatening me."

Nothing had ever felt so satisfying in your life. Throwing his words back in his face was almost better than sex and the cherry on top was the look of surprise that widened his eyes just a bit before you pushed the door shut and twisted the lock in place. 

Neither of you moved away from the door. He stood on one side, furious beyond belief, and you on the other holding a hand to your mouth to keep from laughing. It wasn't until you heard a low growl followed by the heavy stomp of his boots that you moved away. You sat back on the bed with a giggle and hooked a finger around the front of your shirt. 

Folded and hidden on the inside of your bra was just an edge of the familiar camo hat. 

Oh yeah. 

He would never find it. 

---

Captain Bucket Hat—though you really couldn't call him that anymore since the hat was still folded up and tucked away in your bra—didn't talk to you for three days after your encounter with him. He was sulking, which only amused you immensely.

It shouldn't have brought you so much enjoyment to see a grown man pout the way he did, but you truly enjoyed it. Every time you walked out of your room, he would follow you with a glare and it only turned your sweet smiles into wicked little grins that you just knew pissed him off. 

And you were prepared to keep this up as long as possible.

He even stopped cooking—for you anyway. 

And though he made sure to clean up his messes, he completely ignored yours and if you didn’t clean it, it would sit there until you did. Not that you expected him to, of course. You may have been a little spoiled but you didn’t want him to be your maid. You just wanted him to be as miserable as you were.

Because as long as you were stuck in this stupid cabin with him, you’d be miserable.

On day four of being locked away in hiding—day three of him ignoring you—you miserably prepared for another cold shower. It had been brutal the first time and you’d practically screamed through the entire thing. You weren’t looking forward to it but had no other choice. 

Thankfully, your bodyguard was busy, walking the perimeter of the land and checking for any signs that someone had discovered your hiding place. You highly doubted they did but while he was occupied, you hurried into the bathroom and stripped. 

His folded-up hat rolled out of your shirt and you glanced around the bathroom for a temporary hiding place. While you didn’t think he’d barge in and rummage through your dirty clothes, you wouldn’t exactly put it past him. The only place he wouldn’t look was in the shower. So you hooked it over the shower head, twisted the faucet so that the freezing cold water was pouring out, and jumped it.

Again, you squealed as soon as the spray hit your legs and trembled from head to toe. It was somehow even colder than it was the day before and you wondered if he was doing this on purpose somehow. 

As you lathered the shampoo in your hair, fingers shaking so hard you could barely feel them, you heard something outside the bathroom door and paused. It could have been the front door shutting, but it almost sounded like… footsteps —heading right for your bedroom.

That bastard…

Your eyes narrowed and you quickly rinsed the shampoo from your hair. 

The conditioner would have to wait. 

There was no time for it today.

You were barely able to soap up the important parts of your body enough before rinsing them to consider yourself properly bathed. Satisfied that you were at least halfway clean, you twisted the faucet and snatched the towel off the rack just outside the shower curtain. With a glance back at the hat, you grabbed it, pressed it against your stomach, and wrapped the towel around your body before tucking it beneath your arm.

In two steps, you threw open the door and jumped back on your heels, surprised to see him stomping out of your bedroom. His eyes met yours, already narrowed into a glare, and before you could open your mouth to yell at him for going into your room, you realized two things…

One: you were practically naked in front of him, with only a faded, yellow towel between his gaze and your dripping wet, nude body.

And two: the strings of his bucket hat hadn’t quite made it into the towel in your rush and were draped over the edge, right between your breasts.

Captain Price noticed the second thing at the same time that you did and you both froze. 

Would he try to get it?

Would he grab the towel and pull it off your body?

No.

Surely he knew you were naked underneath it!

“I knew you had my—”

“What are you doing in my—”

Both of your voices filled the space between you and both of your lips clamped shut at the same time. Ugh! How had your fun been ruined so quickly? There was no way you were going to give up this easily and you stomped your foot, pointing at your open bedroom door.

“You have no right to go into my room!”

“And you’ve no right to take what’s mine!” He stood up straight and crossed his arms over his chest as a slow, devious smile stretched his lips. Uh oh. You didn’t like the look of that. “We’ll see how you like it.”

Your eyes widened before narrowing into a glare. “What did you take?”

“Who says I took anything?”

Prick!

Bastard!

He was using your tactic against you, answering questions with questions. Without asking him anything else, you pushed past him and rushed into your bedroom. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, but that didn’t mean much. You whirled around to see him turn on his heel and disappear into the living area of the cabin, leaving you standing there staring after him. 

With no other choice, you stomped after him. He simply sat on the couch, propped his feet up on the corner of the coffee table, and folded his hands behind his head. A grin that was just begging to be smacked off his face stretched his lips and you glared at it.

“If you want to play games, Princess, we can play games. But you’re not going to like losing.”

“Who says I’ll be the loser?”

“I do.”

The amount of confidence he had was annoying and you hated that it almost made you falter. You could either give up now and give his hat back and at least pretend to be civil, but as confident as he was, you were twice as stubborn. If he thought you were playing games before, he had no idea what you were capable of. 

Narrowing your eyes on him, you closed your hand around the strings poking out from the edge of your towel and slowly, almost teasingly, pulled at them. You kept one hand around the towel to keep it from falling open but the hat slipped between it and your body and as more of it came out from its hiding place, Captain Price’s smile faded.

He was trying so hard not to look but he couldn’t help it.

His gaze dropped to your chest and watched as his precious Boonie hat came free. You shook it from its wrinkled, folded state and set it on your head. The strings fell on either side of your face and you peered at him on the couch.

A strange look flashed across his face and if you weren’t so hellbent on your pettiness, you might have noticed that it wasn’t exactly a furious one. There was something else behind it, something he quickly masked, but you didn’t let yourself think about it for long.

You simply smiled as sweetly as you could at him.

“Game on, Captain .”

With that, you turned on your heel and hurried back into your bedroom, shutting the door and locking it behind you. And though you were proud of yourself for properly getting under his skin, you couldn’t quite shake that look he’d given you. Despite the fact that you were still trembling from your freezing cold shower, you felt… flushed .

But whether it was because of your exasperation or the look in Captain Price’s eyes, you weren’t sure.

---

 

Chapter 5: Kill 'Em With Kindness

Notes:

guys....I have bad news....I can't seem to stop writing this story! I'm ten minutes late for work, haven't put on a bit of makeup, and here I am, updating AGAIN.
I'm obsessed.
But thank you everyone for commenting and all the kudos!

---

The loudest sound you'd ever heard that wasn't construction woke you the next morning. After bolting upright in the bed, you scrambled for the phone you put on charge the day before to check the time. Of course, that was what you had planned to do. The white cord sat on the corner of the bedside table but there was no phone attached to it. Since you hadn't had wifi for the past several days, your previous attachment to your phone was starting to wane. Who knew that when you had no access to social media, phones were pretty boring? But you still needed it. 

Had you left it in the bathroom?

Ugh, what was that sound?

It was like a chainsaw and a very angry cat were having a fight right outside your bedroom. 

Which meant, it had to be Captain Price. Whatever he was doing, he was doing it for the sole purpose of pissing you off and it was working like a charm. Growling your frustration behind clenched teeth, you ripped the blankets off your legs and didn't bother to pause to put on a bra. You stuffed his hat in the front of your shirt and crossed your arms over your chest before stomping into the living room. 

The sight of the front door open to let in the early morning light nearly stopped you in your tracks. But it was Price that made your heels dig into the threadbare rug. 

He stood on the porch just beyond the door and held a piece of machinery in his hands, making your jaw drop. 

A saw.

He was currently slicing a two-by-four down the middle, sawdust flying in all directions as if he were the only person in a hundred miles that could hear it. You blinked a few times, just to be sure you weren't having the stupidest dream ever, and when you didn't wake up, you marched to the door and shouted. 

"What are you doing?"

He didn't respond, probably couldn't hear over the whir of the saw but you didn't care. You kept screaming anyway. 

"Are you insane? I know you're only doing this to piss me off! Can you even hear me?"

It didn't matter how much you screamed, he kept slowly pushing the two-by-four into the blade, slicing it right down the middle of the board. You rolled your eyes and tried again. 

"You're such a dick! You're getting sawdust everywhere! If you don't turn that thing off, I swear, we're going to fuck--"

-- ing have a problem was what you had planned to say but your voice echoed into the sudden silence and died along with the noise of the saw, too scared to come back out.

Oh, God!

What horrible, embarrassing timing! 

With the saw now quiet, Price whirled around and stared at you with a look of amused bewilderment on his face that made a rush of heat flush across yours. 

"What was that, Princess?"

You chose to ignore his question and glared down at the dusty floorboards. Though you wanted to fire off a sarcastic, clever comment, the wires in your brain had short-circuited and you were having trouble breathing, let alone thinking. 

And just when the silence between you was stretching uncomfortably long, you managed to utter a single, stupid word.

"Sawdust."

Price chuckled and took the two halves of the board, propping them against the wall. "Astute observation."

Just like that, he managed to snap you back to reality and you lifted your glare to find him smirking at you. "So is there a reason why you chose to take on this home improvement job so early in the morning or do you just enjoy pissing me off?"

"Oh, I enjoy pissing you off. This is just something I've been meaning to get done around here."

Wait…

Did that mean he owned this cabin? 

You glanced around at the wood-paneled walls and the thick, pine door propped open with a rock.

"Is this your cabin?"

"Whose else would it be?"

"I don't know…I thought it was like some FBI safe house or something." You reached up with one hand, careful not to uncross both and run the risk of dropping his hat, and scratched at your eyebrow. "I mean if anyone knows you're helping my dad, wouldn't they find this place fairly easily?"

Price grabbed another board from a stack on the ground and positioned it on the table, right in front of the blade. You watched one of his shoulders shrug and found your gaze lingering a bit longer than necessary on the muscles stretching the material of his t-shirt. 

"They'd have to know I built it. My name isn't on the deed or the land." He glanced back at you over his shoulder, one corner of his lips lifting. "Don't worry your pretty little head, Princess. I've got things covered."

The saw whirred to life, cutting through the morning at the same time butterflies cut through your belly. Another flush of warmth lit your cheeks and turned them pink. You stared at the back of his head as he slowly eased the board into the blade, sending sawdust flying into the air. This time, you didn't worry too much about it getting everywhere. 

Besides, he knew you wouldn't be the one to clean it up. While he was busy with his little DIY project, you turned and shuffled into the kitchen to search for some breakfast. What you truly wanted to do was go back to sleep, but you knew he wasn't going to stop playing this little game just because you wanted him to. This whole sudden interest in sprucing up his cabin had everything to do with wanting to piss you off.

You weren't going to give him the satisfaction. 

After using the last bit of milk to pour into your bland bowl of cereal, you stuck a spoon into your breakfast and shuffled back to the hallway. Before you could reach your bedroom, the saw shut off again and Price turned around to give you another butterfly-inducing smirk. 

"You got the time, Princess?"

You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth to tell him that you had lost your phone but for the second time in the past ten minutes, your lips clamped shut. Realization hit you like a board to the face and you blinked, shifting from one foot to the other.

Your phone wasn't lost.

He had it!

"Give it back!"

"Mm, I didn't hear a please ."

You marched back into the kitchen and set the bowl on the corner of the counter, pressing one arm around your waist to keep his stupid hat tucked away. 

"A phone is not the same as a hat! What if my dad calls?"

Price laughed softly and patted the front pocket of his jeans. "He'll call my satellite phone and I'll let you talk to him."

"You can't just take my phone because I took your silly little hat."

"Can't I? It's a simple solution, Princess. Give me my hat, and you'll get your phone."

But you couldn't do that. Not anymore. This was a matter of principle, of showing him that yeah, you may be somewhat of a spoiled princess but that didn't mean people could just walk all over you and force you into situations without listening to your input. 

You were an adult and deserved to at least be treated like one.

Of course, you probably weren’t making that easy to do when you stole a man’s hat and kept it inside your shirt to keep him from getting it back. But that was irrelevant! It would have never come to this if he hadn’t been such an asshole to you from the get-go.

“Give me my phone and you’ll get your hat back.”

It was a lie and it was clear he saw through it. With a tight smile, he crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at you.

“Asked you first.”

“You’re insufferable!” You wanted to throw your hands up but kept them firmly pressed to your midsection to keep his hat in place.

“You’re a brat.” That stupid smirk tilted one side of his mouth as he took a step back to the saw. With a glance back at you, he took the board in his hands and leaned forward to position it in front of the blade. “I’ve got to run into town later.”

Good. Some peace and quiet without him always looming over you, reminding you of your shitty situation would be welcomed.

“And you’re coming with me.”

There it was. Exactly what you didn’t want to hear. 

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not in the slightest.”

The sound of the saw firing back up was like knives piercing your eardrums but you didn’t turn away just yet. You glared at the back of his head, imagining all the ways you could make him pay. Throwing his hat onto the saw blade would be satisfying but instead, you snatched your bowl of cereal and stomped back into your room, slamming the door behind you.

---

Okay, so maybe you were acting like a spoiled brat. 

After getting some breakfast in your stomach and properly assessing the situation, you realized that stomping around the cabin, slamming doors, and complaining about everything was probably the brattiest thing you could do. 

It took about an hour of scheming ways you could make Captain Price pay for being such a dick to you for you to hatch a proper plan. A plan that he wouldn’t expect and would definitely knock him on his ass. Though it’d been less than a week since the two of you were forced into this situation together, you knew he’d already decided that you were just a spoiled brat daughter of a wealthy diplomat who was used to getting everything handed to her.

He didn’t really know you.

He didn’t know how tenacious you were when you put your mind to something and while, at first, you wanted nothing more than to make him as miserable as you were, maybe you had taken the wrong approach. 

That didn’t mean you were going to give him his hat back.

No, he wouldn’t get that back until he begged for it.

But what you were going to do was so simple, you felt foolish for not thinking of it in the first place. If he wanted to think you were nothing more than some rich guy’s daughter, he was in for a surprise. What better way to make someone pay than to make them realize they had been wrong about something they were so sure about?

And to do that, you knew what you had to do.

You had to kill him with kindness, be as sweet as honey, charming, cute, and most of all… nice .

Before Price had the chance to retrieve you from your room with a pounding knock at your door, you dressed quickly in a pair of shorts, t-shirt, and to top it all off, you wore his hat on your head.

Yeah, you were playing nice but not too nice. It was still too much fun to tease a grown man about his floppy little hat.

The strings were pulled tight under your chin so he couldn’t just yank it back, but it didn’t look too ridiculous when you glanced at your reflection. You conjured up your sweetest smile and sauntered out of the room.

To your right, the bathroom door was open but you could tell he had just taken a shower. While there was no steam or condensation clinging to the mirror above the sink, the scent of his shampoo and soap lingered in the air. You took a deep breath of it and blinked, surprised that it smelled so…good.

It wasn’t a particularly unique smell like expensive cologne. In fact, you were almost certain he used the same kind of fairly cheap shampoo as most men but the combination of it with whatever bar soap he used was rich and earthy and, most of all, manly.

So caught up in your momentary thoughts about Price’s shampoo and soap combination, you hadn’t realized he was standing near the front door…staring at you. The feel of his eyes on you was sudden but intense and you whirled around to face him. 

Maybe it was his scent lingering in the air or perhaps it was the fact that you had decided to change tactics to be nice to him, but strangely, at that moment, you felt something else entirely. Something that surprised you more than the sight of him.

Attraction.

It hit you like a smack to the back of the head at the same time butterflies fluttered against your belly. His eyes, which had previously been on your body, lifted to the hat on your head and he tilted his head just enough to tell you that he was trying to figure you out. And damn it, he looked good. Better than you had been expecting, in fact. 

His jeans were a light wash with a frayed hole at one knee, and as you pulled your gaze up the length of his body, found his t-shirt loosely tucked in, drawing your attention right to his waist. It was slender, but not too much, and you could almost see the muscles behind it in your head. But to top it all off, what immediately made him far cuter than you were prepared for, was the black beanie he wore on his head.

Oh, this sudden attraction to him was not part of the plan.

Stick to the plan! You shouted at yourself, forcing your head to get back on track. You blinked and cleared your throat, immediately forcing your gaze away from him. It was safer to look at the couch across the room than to look at him.

When you spoke, your voice wasn’t quite as confident as you wanted it to be. “Are you ready?”

Your question seemed to pull him out of his daze as well and he took a step back, reaching for the doorknob behind him. As the hinges creaked in protest, you glanced at the trees outside and could spot the SUV waiting in the gravel. 

Price didn’t respond. 

He barely even looked at you.

But he held the door open and gestured for you to walk out and as you did so, you lifted a hand and put it on top of your head, keeping his hat firmly in place. This time, your eyes met his as you stepped out the door, and while his gaze was narrowed and satisfyingly furious at you for wearing his hat, there was something else as well.

Something that nearly made your steps falter and weakened your knees.

The attraction to him that was frustratingly lingering like his scent in the hallway, was mirrored in his gaze and you realized that maybe you weren’t the only one fighting it inside you.

---

 

Notes:

Also, I cut it off here because the next part is long but man, it's gonna be so much fun to write! The slow burn is about to really start burning :)

Chapter 6: Sweetheart

Notes:

Once again, thank you all so much for the comments and kudos. I'm so happy you're liking this story so far <3

---

It wasn’t until the tires of the SUV hit the pavement on the highway that you finally managed to relax in the passenger seat. Neither of you spoke. Well, that’s not exactly true. As soon as you got in the car, Price ordered you to fasten your seat belt and the rough tone of his voice was enough to tell you he wouldn’t be up for negotiations. 

You clicked the belt around you and sat back, hands in your lap, eyes not moving away from the windshield. The entire half-hour drive back to civilized roads that weren’t made of bumpy, loose gravel, you stared ahead of you as if the trees and rocks were the most fascinating things you’d ever seen. While you weren’t particularly interested in the scenery, if you stayed focused on the woods, you wouldn’t be tempted to do something stupid…like look at the man driving you into town.

It was bad enough you could still smell him.

Half of you was aware of how stupid you were being, like a preteen developing their first crush on her history teacher or something, but this attraction to him had hit you out of nowhere and now you couldn’t help thinking about it. Every time you pushed it away, it sneaked back up with little things about him to remind you that just because he was an asshole didn’t mean he wasn’t attractive.

Like his beard with the occasional streaks of silver through it to show his age. 

Or his body.

You’d only caught glimpses of it behind his clothes but your imagination could—and had—definitely filled in the rest.

And not to mention, his voice. It wasn’t even the accent that sucked you in…it was how rough and deep and kind of menacing he sounded sometimes. Even when he said things like—

“Keep your head down when we get into town.”

You swallowed and nodded, staring down at your hands folded in your lap. 

“Don’t speak to anyone if you can help it.”

“You make me sound like I’m a criminal on America’s most wanted list or something.”

Price took a deep breath and flexed his fingers over the steering wheel, pulling your eyes to his hand. There was a scar that ran across the first three of his knuckles and you wondered how he got it. Then again, he was in the military and apparently damn good at his job. The guy would definitely have a few scars here and there. But where , you could only imagine. And you did. 

“My top priority is keeping you safe, Princess.” Well, that shouldn’t have given you butterflies but here they were, fluttering against your inner belly like the annoying little pricks they were.

Do not develop a crush on this guy. Do not develop a crush! Stay strong!

You shook the hair that had slipped out from beneath his hat away from your face and turned away from him, adopting that previous plan. If you don't look at him, you won't think about him. 

"Will you ever stop calling me that?"

The sound of his laugh, deep and throaty and ugh, kind of hot, made you scowl at the reflection of your face in the window. Stay. Strong.

"As long as it pisses you off, not a chance."

"In that case, I love it." You turned to face him with a sweet smile lighting up your face. "It's so sweet and cute."

"Glad you think so, Princess."

Ugh. 

Maybe forgetting this attraction would be easier than you thought. He was certainly annoying enough to make you forget it. Rolling your eyes, you faced the window again just as the car passed by a wooden sign. The paint was fading and the emblem of a river and two bridges was well-worn from years of sun exposure and weather. But the green letters of the town name remained, looking a bit fresher than the rest of the sign. 

Twin River.

You had no idea where that was. Somewhere on the east coast, but far enough away from any real civilization. Possibly close to the border of Canada. You regretted sleeping most of the trip up from your father's house five days ago. 

It felt like a lifetime had passed since you stood in his office, listening to him drop the motherlode of all bad news on you. 

Five days since you first met Captain Price.

A familiar ding cut through your thoughts, followed by another…and another. Your first instinct was to put your hand to your pocket where you usually kept your cell phone but before you could even move, you remembered that you no longer had possession of it. Whipping your head to Captain Price, you scowled.

Of course.

You hid his hat in your bra and he kept your phone in his pants pocket.

Ding!

"Okay, I need to check my messages."

Price sniffed, flexed his fingers on the wheel, and kept his gaze straight ahead.

"No, you don't."

You blinked. 

"Um, I don't think that's your decision. This is technically kidnapping, you know? You can't cut me off from the outside world."

"As long as you're under my protection, I can." Before you could get even angrier at him, he leaned to the side and pulled your phone out of his back pocket. He pressed a thumb to the button on the side, glanced at the notifications on the lock screen, and slid it back into its hiding place. "Jenna says hi."

"That's my best friend. She's probably worried since I haven't spoken to her in like a week. Can I at least let her know I'm okay?"

"That depends," he sighed, steering the car to the right. The trees and underbrush started to thin and more residential areas popped up on either side of the road. You should have been paying attention, but couldn't look away from the infuriating man beside you. "Are you ready to give up this game you started?"

Never.

Jenna would wait. She'd understand. Hopefully. 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you sat back in the seat and glared at the window to your right. "Prick," you grumbled under your breath, knowing he heard you loud and clear. 

Killing him with kindness was proving to be harder than you thought it would be. 

Price laughed softly and you caught him glancing your way out of the corner of your eye. 

"Don't worry, Princess. Once you accept defeat, you'll have your precious phone back."

"I'm going to dye your hat bright pink."

"I like pink. Put some polka dots on it while you're at it."

Oh yeah, you were one hundred percent certain now.

You didn't like him. 

At all. 

Even if he was cute. 

---

Ding!

Another series of notifications came in as you followed Price into a small, local grocery store. It wasn’t too particularly crowded for a Monday morning. A woman balanced two babies on her hips at the register and a teenager stood near the produce, elbow propped up on a broomstick as he texted someone. 

“Grab a trolley.”

“A what?”

Price sighed and pointed to the line of shopping carts near the door. Rolling your eyes, you pulled one of them free and followed him to the produce section. The teenager smacked his gum as he lifted his eyes and stared at the two of you coming his way. He didn’t offer a smile or greeting, barely even noticing you before he was back to looking at his phone.

And speaking of phones…

Ding!

“For fuck’s sake,” you growled, hands gripping the shopping cart handle tightly. “Just let me see my messages.”

Price ignored you and stepped around the employee to grab a couple of apples. He dropped them into the thin plastic bag, set them in the cart, and continued on. 

“It could be someone important.”

“Everyone that needs to know where you are already does.” Price took hold of the back end of the shopping cart and steered it down the aisle. You had no choice but to push it after him and glare at each item he placed in the cart. Most of it was generic groceries. Butter, milk, a few fruits, and vegetables. 

Nothing you could just pop in the microwave and make for yourself. Did that mean he was planning to cook for you again? 

You pursed your lips and stared at the stretch of his muscular shoulders, hating that your body was still reacting to this new attraction like it had never been around a hot guy before. Had it been so long since you’d gotten laid that now it was acting like a neglected housewife? 

You cut your eyes to the multitude of pickle jars on the shelf to your left and sighed, reaching up to grab one of them. Price said nothing as you placed it in the cart and you perked up. Was this shopping trip for both of you?

So caught up in your little game with him, the thought of actually picking out food for yourself hadn’t popped into your head. But now that it was, you felt a bit of hope as you grabbed some blueberry yogurt out of the dairy aisle. At first, he remained silent but as he glanced down at your choice of yogurt flavor, he spoke up. 

“Strawberry is better.”

“You would think that. Do you also only eat vanilla ice cream and find ketchup too spicy?”

His laugh surprised you as well as the smile that curled the corner of your lips. It was a smile you usually preserved for your more flirtatious moods and now was definitely not the time for that. Not after deciding that you didn’t like him.

You quickly turned away before he could see it and picked up some skim milk to place in the cart. He sighed and grabbed some whole for himself. “You can have that watered-down shit.”

As he turned his back, you stuck your tongue out at him and pushed the cart onward. Everything was going fine. The only bickering between the two of you was over food choices and surprisingly, it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. In fact…it was kind of fun teasing him about his aversion to cheese but love for milk. 

“They’re the same thing,” you’d said, making him stare at you as if you’d grown a second head.

“No, they’re bloody not.”

Ding!

Okay, now this was getting ridiculous. Another chime and you rolled your eyes and brought the cart to a complete stop in the middle of the cereal aisle. “I want to see my phone.”

Price turned to stare at you and pursed his lips, eyes lifting to the hat on your head. “You know what you have to do to get it.”

“You can keep it. I just want to see the screen. I don’t even have to hold it.”

With a sigh, he returned his attention to the numerous flavors of Cheerios and shook his head. “No.”

“This is ridiculous.”

He scoffed and finally snatched a box of plain Cheerios off the shelf. As if you expected anything different. For a guy that could cook a decent meal, he didn’t venture outside the box too much. 

“Finally, we agree on something, Princess.” Price tossed the box into the cart and took hold of either side of the wire basket, leaning forward a bit. He was broad and menacing and the look in his eyes told you not to keep pushing him, but it only made you want to do it more. Especially if he was going to look at you like that. “The moment you give me what’s mine, you’ll have your phone back. Not a moment sooner.”

The tone of his voice was a final one but you didn’t want to stop just yet. Not when he looked at you like he was a predator and you were his prey. Not when his gaze drifted from your eyes down to your lips, lingering long enough to make your thoughts shift into dangerous territories before he turned away again. 

Ding!

Price growled and pulled the cart after him, glancing back at you briefly. “I don’t think I’ve ever known someone to get this many messages before.”

“What can I say?” You shrugged. “I’m a popular woman.”

He shook his head. “Is that right? Well, I’m sure your multitude of boyfriends will survive without your response until you admit defeat.”

Your eyebrow arched slowly and you tilted your head to the side. Was that a tinge of jealousy you heard in his tone? A smile curled your lips and you shook a strand of hair away from your eyes. 

“Hmm, I’m not so sure about that. They miss me terribly. All ten of them.”

It was both amusing and satisfying to see him react, even if he tried to hide it. His shoulders tensed and steps slowed just enough to notice and you grinned. You could just picture the thoughts in his head, trying to put the pieces together and figure out if you were bullshitting him or actually had ten boyfriends. Or one. 

You hoped he was jealous.

You took a deep breath and let it out with a dramatic sigh. “Although, after this long without my response, I’m sure they’ve all dumped me. I hope you’re happy.”

“Thrilled.”

He sounded the complete opposite but you still grinned at his response.

“I suppose you’ll just have to keep me company from now on.”

You don’t know why you said it. You hadn’t exactly planned to say anything else. The words just tumbled from your mouth before you could swallow them down. And when Price stopped and turned, hesitating just a second before his eyes met yours, you held your breath. Oh no. Had you said the wrong thing?

You were so busy enjoying yourself that you didn’t really take a moment to think…What if he had a girlfriend—or worse! A wife. The smile quickly faded from your face and you blinked, shifting from one foot to the other while you wracked your brain for a response. Should you apologize? Laugh it off and pretend like the idea would be torture for you both?

Before you could decide either way, a voice interrupted whatever moment was passing between you and Captain Price.

“Excuse me, sir,” a frail, quiet voice on the other side of him said, pulling both of your attention to the little old lady standing there. She had a cane hanging off the handle of her cart and had to be around ninety years old. “Could you possibly reach on the top shelf and get me two boxes of the sugar-free oatmeal?”

“Of course, ma’am.”

His tone had changed completely. That gruff, deep growl he usually spoke to you in was replaced with one of polite kindness. He did as she asked, barely having to reach up at all to grab the boxes on the top shelf and he even set it in her cart for her. 

Which she was thankful for. “Oh, thank you so much. I could use a strong man like you at home.”

You smiled as she shuffled on, her cane swinging from the handle of the car. As she passed you, she glanced up and winked one wrinkled eye at you. “Got you a good one, dear. Hold onto him as long as you can.”

“Oh, we’re actually—”

“Married.” The look of shock on your face would have been hilarious on any other occasion. But as Price stepped up to you, his arm slid around your waist and pulled you against his side. He was warm— so, so warm—and while it was only a brief moment your arm pressed into his chest and waist, you finally felt exactly what he had hidden behind his clothes. It was better than your imagination could ever conjure. 

“How wonderful! You two make a lovely couple.”

“Thanks…” You had no idea what else to say. Instead of trying to make your brain actually work, you smiled at the elderly woman as she carried on and shuffled away. As soon as she was far enough out of earshot, Price sighed and dropped his hand from around your waist. 

You whipped your head toward him and found him pulling the cart down the aisle in the opposite direction. There was no choice but to follow him. You caught up to him around the corner and wanted to smack him for putting you in such a strange—but delightful—position.

“What the hell was that?”

“There are people after you, Princess. Do you think we should tell strangers that you’re hiding from terrorists and I’m your bodyguard?”

“No…but a little warning would have been nice.” You crossed your arms over your chest and let him take control of the cart for the rest of the grocery run. “Besides, she was a harmless old lady. Do you honestly suspect she’s working for terrorists?”

“I’ve seen stranger things, sweetheart.”

Price pushed onward, pausing at the canned goods to pick out a few items but you had stopped in your tracks. A blush warmed your face and your eyes went a bit wide. 

Sweetheart? 

It shouldn’t have made you react like that.

It was just a word.

Just a silly little pet name. 

No reason at all for those damn butterflies to be going crazy in your stomach like they were. 

As he glanced back at you, no doubt wondering why the hell you were just standing near the baked beans and staring at him like he was an alien, you cut your eyes away, cleared your throat, and hurried to catch up to him. No matter what he did or called you, you knew reacting to him like this was a monumentally bad idea. 

Sure, he was hot.

Sure, he made your stomach go crazy with butterflies.

But he was your bodyguard.

You were nothing but a job to him. 

And if you were smart, you would brush these feelings away and carry on with this miserable, stupid summer the same way you started it; hating him. You just hoped that in the end, you would be smart enough not to get yourself hurt.

---

 

Notes:

Omg I love writing their banter and knowing what is coming up in the next few chapters is making me SOO excited! I can't wait to write it and post it for you guys!

Chapter 7: Whiskey Tango Foxtrot

Notes:

babe, wake up...a new Safe House chapter dropped because the author is way too obsessed with this story to slow down.
But for real, am I updating too frequently? I legit cannot help it with these two. Anyway, hope you like this chapter :D

---

Shopping with Captain Price turned out to be a rather enjoyable task. For you, anyway. 

After grocery shopping, you'd spotted a thrift store across the street while putting groceries in the car and asked nicely if you could take a peek around. He had said no, of course, so you did the only thing you could do. 

You left him to put the bags in the car and walked across the street. Just to prove that while he might have been your bodyguard, he wasn't your boss. By the time he caught up to you, fuming and royally pissed off that you'd walked away from him, you had already found a couple of items. One was a used, but fairly new radio in great condition, and the other a deck of playing cards. Without your phone and internet, there weren’t many ways to pass the time or entertain yourself. 

Teasing him about his hat only took you so far.

And after the moments in the grocery store, you decided that maybe teasing him was doing the exact same thing to you. The last thing you wanted was to accidentally fall into a crush on the guy because you’ve done similar things in the past.

You knew it was better to nip whatever attraction you had to him in the bud now than to lose yourself and get hurt.

To your delight, he reluctantly bought you both—possibly just to get you out of the store as quickly as possible—and about an hour later, the SUV was parked outside the cabin once again. He didn’t let you shirk out on carrying duty this time. You filled your arms with bags, refusing to make a second trip, and hurried into the cabin with your haul. The bag containing the milk cartons and pickle jar was cutting your circulation off at the elbow and you grunted as you dropped it onto the counter.

Behind you, Captain Price clucked his tongue and easily carried twice as many bags as you. As he set them down beside yours, he gave you an amused look that did anything but amuse you and a scowl pinched your brows. 

“What?”

“I’ve seen toddlers carry more than you.”

“I had the milk!” 

Price chuckled and shook his head, turning to put the cold items in the fridge and freezer. You had no choice but to roll your eyes and do the same with the pantry foods. There wasn’t much of a rhyme or reason to his storage and most of it went in the lower cabinets under the counter. You sat on your knees and opened one of the doors, peering in at the random boxes of cereal—all Cheerios and very bran flavors—and a small section of bottled spices. As you shoved his new box of Cheerios into a free slot, something knocked against the back of the cabinet and you reached in to retrieve it.

And when you did, your eyes went wide. A thick, square bottle almost half-filled with amber liquid lay in your hand and you sat back on your heels, whistling low. “You’ve been holding out on me, Captain.”

You tilted your head back to peer up at him as he turned around and as his eyes fell to the bottle in your hand, you tilted it back and forth. Price’s face faltered for a moment and a flash of sadness swept across his eyes. He masked it quickly and cleared his throat, bending down to snatch the bottle from your hand.

Not exactly the reaction you’d been expecting. 

When he unscrewed the black lid and held it over the sink, you threw your hands up. “Whoa! Wait a minute. Don’t just throw out perfectly good whiskey!”

“There’s a lot of bad memories in this bottle, Princess. I’d rather not relive them.”

You were on your feet as he spoke and stood next to the sink. “Well, you can always give it to me. I don’t have any bad memories associated with it but another week without my phone—” you emphasized the words and he glanced at you with a scoff. “—And I’d welcome the chance to make some with this stuff.”

For a moment, Captain Price stared at you, one hand clutching the neck of the bottle while the other gripped the edge of the sink. His eyes searched yours before dropping to your lips for just a fraction of a second. You noticed he did that a lot and you wondered why. Did you have something on your face?

Or was it for some other reason…a reason that lit the butterflies in your stomach again.

Swallowing down your sudden shyness, you held your hand out toward the bottle and flexed your fingers. You tried to hide your surprise as he sighed and caved to your request, dropping the bottle back into your palm. 

“Be my guest,” he said, brushing past you to grab another bag of groceries. Without another word, he returned to the fridge and continued on with his previous task, leaving you to stare at his back.

You stared down at the bottle and tapped your fingers against the glass. Taking a moment to give Captain Price another glance, you set the whiskey down on the counter and took your place back on the floor to store the pantry items. And while things were the exact same as they had been, you could tell something was off.

There was a strange tension that settled in the room between you.

Not uncomfortable but definitely noticeable. 

You risked a few glances at Price’s back but he stayed quiet and once all the bags were empty and stored away under the sink, he mumbled an excuse to check the outside cameras and left you alone in the kitchen. After a few minutes had passed in the silence of the cabin, your eyes cut to the whiskey bottle on the counter and you frowned. 

Just what kind of bad memories did he have inside that bottle? 

---

If you thought Price’s bad mood would clear up after a little while, you were wrong. Each day, you thought you could coax him back to the comfortable banter you’d fallen into with a few jokes, teasing him, or even flaunting his hat in front of him. But he never took the bait. In fact, your attempts only seemed to make him sourer than before.

His construction picked up again— earlier now.

Was he pissed because you kept the whiskey?

The day before, you’d stood in the living room and yelled at him while the saw was loud enough to drown your shouts. Even after it shut off, he practically ignored you, only answering your attitude with a grunt or sigh like the very first time you were forced in close proximity to him. It was as though you took a step forward and he took seven steps back. 

All because of a bottle of whiskey?

You’d spent the morning in your bedroom with your head beneath a pillow to drown out the sounds of his project. It hadn’t worked. With every second the saw screamed from the front porch and hammers banged and drills screeched, you found yourself daydreaming about all the ways you could murder Captain Price and get away with it. 

No one would convict you.

After hearing your confession and what you’d been through the past ten days, they’d let you go scot-free. And possibly offer you free sessions of therapy. You’d need it.

The silence that stretched through the morning was almost deafening after listening to the racket of construction and you lifted your head, pushing the pillow away as you did so. It slid to the floor and you glanced at the door behind you.

Half of you wanted to throw the door open and seek him out, chastise him for being such a baby, but the other half refused to get out of bed. It was begging to nap, to catch up on the sleep you’d missed out on when he woke you up before the damn sun had even risen. 

Groaning, you dropped your head back onto the mattress and closed your eyes. By the time you opened them again, the bedroom was darker than before and you groggily rolled over to check the window. You hadn’t meant to sleep so late and while you were fairly certain you could have slept a few more hours, the sound of music pulled you out of your slumber.

The song was familiar, one you’d heard many times on the local classic rock radio stations when you lived in the dorms and used the radio to help you sleep. 

Rubbing your eyes, you stood from the bed and yawned, shuffling to the door. As soon as it opened, the potent scent of Captain Price’s shampoo and soap combination swirled around you, narrowing your eyes into a glare. It was just as butterfly-inducing as it had been the first time and you thought briefly about punching them away.

If they didn’t leave you alone, you’d make them pay.

Instead, you ignored the tingling sensation and turned to the kitchen where another aroma filled the air, thankfully blocking out all thoughts of how delicious he smelled. But, whatever he was cooking smelled just as good and you lifted your nose to inhale as you rounded the corner into the kitchen.

He stood at the stove in a white t-shirt, the back a bit damp from his recent shower, and as your eyes immediately dropped to the grey sweatpants sitting low on his hips, he finally noticed you. 

“Ah, so you’re alive after all.”

Did men know the effect grey sweatpants had on those who were attracted to dicks? If so, he was cruel. So, very cruel.

You blinked your gaze away from his pants and crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at the radio sitting atop the freezer behind him. The thin, silver antenna was pulled out as far as it would go, the tip pointing right at the window, and still, a bit of static cut through the song. 

“Unfortunately,” you grumbled, torn between keeping your distance from him and wanting to find something to eat. You knew better than to think whatever he was cooking would be shared. Not after how pissy he’d been lately. Deciding to take the risk—because you were craving a pickle—you crossed to the fridge and pulled it open, grabbing the jar from the top shelf. “I would kill for a pizza right now.”

“You’ll have to settle for spaghetti.”

You nearly dropped the jar.

“Oh, I get to eat what you cook tonight?”

Price sighed and twisted the knob on the stove, reducing the blue flames beneath the pot of sauce he was stirring. He glanced at you but only briefly and scrubbed his beard with his free hand. “Yes. It's a peace offering…or an apology, whichever you prefer.”

“An apology for being a dick to me the last two days?”

“Yes.”

“Does this mean I get my phone?”

This time, he lifted his flat gaze to you, lips pressed into a line and you couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t the world’s most sincere apology, but you could tell he was genuinely trying to make amends. 

“Fine. I accept your peace offering.” You gripped the pickle jar and twisted the lid. Unfortunately, it refused to budge. After another attempt and a rather embarrassing grunt that proved just how weak you were, Price shook his head and wiped his hands on the kitchen towel slung over his shoulder. 

Without a word, he took the jar from you, fingers brushing against yours enough to make your breath hitch. The lid easily came loose with a pop that echoed over the radio, and handed it back to you. 

Of all the things that could make those pesky bastards in your belly do somersaults, Price opening a jar of pickles for you was pretty low on the list. But here you were, trying not to blush as you stared down into the pickle brine. 

He returned to the pot of sauce on the stove but out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a faint smile on his lips. Which only made your face turn a shade of pink and your brain turn to mush. A dangerous thing, really. Made it hard to think, to keep your focus on not liking him, and worst of all, it was powerless to stop you from saying something stupid just to fill the silence.

"Do you want to have a drink with me?"

The spoon he was using to stir the sauce came to a stop and panic bubbled in your chest. 

"As my peace offering. For being a brat about this whole thing." You gestured around at the cabin. "I suppose I can be a bit hard to deal with sometimes."

"Sometimes? Try all the time, Princess."

You scowled and pulled a pickle out of the jar, pointing the tip at him. 

"You're no bag of sunshine and rainbows yourself, Captain. Look," you started, pinching the pickle between your teeth as you set the jar down and crossed the cabin to your bedroom. The crunch of the pickle was loud despite the music playing and you hastily finished it before returning to the kitchen with the bottle, hoping the sight of it wouldn't send him spiraling back into that bad mood. When you returned, he didn't look at you, already knowing what you went to retrieve. "One drink to bury the hatchet between us and start fresh."

You found two glasses, neither of them proper whiskey-drinking cups, but they'd have to do. One had a faded soccer team logo on the side—though, he definitely would get pissy about calling it football instead—and the other was a clear, glass cup. You took the soccer cup and poured a portion into each one, handing him his as you set the bottle down on the counter. 

Captain Price eyed the glass warily and glanced up at you. That sadness from the other day had returned to his eyes but it wasn't as intense this time. He sighed and lifted his eyes to you, lips pursed. For a beat or two of your heart, you thought he would refuse and your shoulders fell in defeat until he reached out and took his cup.

"Fine. Does this mean I get my hat back?"

The corners of your lips curled and you tapped the edge of your cup against his in a toast. "Oh, not a chance, Captain."

Before he could respond or take a drink, you tilted the cup at your lips and sipped. And then gagged. 

Holy shit, it was strong. 

The alcohol burned the back of your nose and made your eyes water and you grimaced as you looked down into the seemingly innocent liquid. "Fuck. That is…"

"Smooth," he finished for you. Price lowered his glass from his mouth with a satisfied sigh and swirled the whiskey around the bottom as you stared in shock. 

"Not what I would call it. How do you drink this?"

"You don't drink it," he said, reaching for the knobs on the stove. He twisted one and it shut off with a sharp click. "You savor it."

Hesitantly, you brought the cup to your nose and sniffed. Even from the bottom of the cup, it burned your nose and you shuddered. After throwing a fit to keep it, there was no way in hell you wouldn't drink it…but you definitely weren't going to enjoy it. Another sip sent the burn down your throat and into your belly and whatever hope you had for it destroying those butterflies was immediately squashed by Captain Price's hand on your waist.

He passed between you and the counter, steering you to the side so he could open the cabinet beside your head for the plates. On the outside, you stared into the cup of whiskey while on the inside, you were practically screaming. 

His hand fell away from your waist and you turned away from him to keep him from seeing the look in your eye. You took another drink and weren't sure if the warmth settling over you was from the alcohol or from him. Either way, maybe you shouldn't drink so much. 

If you struggled to not say or do stupid things while sober, you didn't want to imagine what trouble you'd get yourself into after a few glasses of this stuff. 

Luckily, a plate appeared at your elbow and you took it to distract yourself from both your thoughts about a certain Captain whose touch still tingled at your waist despite having been long gone and the whiskey that would only lead to bad decisions. You set the cup down on the counter and turned to the stove, eyeing the radio beneath the window. 

"Is this the only station that comes in?"

Price glanced back at it and shrugged. "Not sure. At least it plays good music."

You looked at him and smiled. "I take it you're a fan of the classics?"

"They're classics for a reason, Princess." 

Predictable. 

Everything about him was yet he still managed to surprise you at every turn. "That radio has Bluetooth, you know. If I had my phone, I could connect and we could listen to—"

Price stepped away from the stove to give you room but before you could take your place there, he leaned toward you, freezing you to the spot. He ducked his head to level his narrowed gaze with your wide-eyed one and while you were pleased to see that the sadness was gone, the look he gave you lit you from the inside out. It stole your breath away and you could only stand there as he leaned in just another fraction of an inch closer, dropping his voice into a whisper.

"You'll get your phone back when I get my hat back, Princess. Not a second sooner. So if you want to listen to your music or text your friends, all you have to do is surrender."

The back of your knees turned to Jell-o and you struggled to keep yourself standing. You watched his eyes lower to your lips and when they met your gaze again, his eyebrow arched in a challenge. One you had previously thought you were prepared to meet but now, weren't so sure about anymore. You swallowed tightly and blinked, cursing your voice for being so cowardly and hiding away from him. Either way, he didn't give you a chance to speak.

He smirked and stood up straight and somehow, he was even more intimidating at his full height towering over you.  

"Until then, it's mine."

And with that, he left you alone in the kitchen with only the Rolling Stones playing on the radio to keep you company. Maybe you'd underestimated him. 

He seemed to be far better equipped to win this game than you did at this point. He was twice as stubborn and petty as you, not to mention menacing and legitimately capable of things you couldn't imagine. But worst of all, when he did the little things like brushing your fingers with his or opening pickle jars for you, the will you had to win this game started to crumble. 

You glanced at the cup of whiskey you set down on the counter and took a deep breath that trembled in your lungs. Bad decisions be damned. You needed the liquid courage just to get you through dinner with him tonight. 

Before you prepared your plate, you snatched your cup and put it to your lips, glancing out the corner of your eye to where he sat at the table. You stared at his back and pictured the look in his stare as he leaned in close to you moments ago; determined, strong, unwavering…but most of all, intrigued. 

He didn't want you to surrender. He wanted to see how long you could last. A test of endurance.

Honestly, you wanted to see how far you could go too. You might have bitten off more than you could chew with him, but you didn't give up easily. Teasing him didn't work. Killing him with kindness had backfired. There was only one option left. 

It was time to fight fire with fire.

And there was one kind of fire women were far better equipped to play with than men. 

You were going to make him submit the best way possible…on his knees.

---

 

Notes:

And things are officially set in motion for some really fun chapters ahead....hope you're ready!

Chapter 8: First Aid

Notes:

Ahem....Things get a tiny bit...steamy in this chapter.

Also, trigger warning for mentions of blood.

---

It was official.

You were a lightweight.

Though your early days at college had been spent partying and really developing a tolerance to most liquor, the last year of your degree had required you to unfortunately be sober to pass. Your tolerance had weakened so much that after two glasses of Price’s whiskey, you didn’t trust yourself around him. Not before you could officially figure out what your plan was.

Fighting fire with fire was all well and good but it wasn’t a fight you could just go into guns blazing. It needed finesse, time, and most of all, a plan. So after dinner, you excused yourself from the table to wash dishes since he prepared the meal, poured yourself another glass, and retired to your bedroom to think.

Which was easier said than done with that whiskey coursing through your body, heating you from the inside out and making you want to do some very risky things. You’d managed to keep yourself caged though a short while after you locked yourself up for the night, you could hear the bathroom door open and shut quietly. A moment later, the water turned on and there was no stopping the thoughts from flooding your head.

It had been a long time since you were drunk and horny, but that’s exactly how you found yourself, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling while listening to him move around in the shower. Though you knew the hot water heater was broken and the temperature would only reach tepid at best, your imagination wasn’t limited by reality. In your mind, steam filled the small space and curled over the top of the shower door, obscuring his body a bit through the glass. 

You closed your eyes and listened to the spray of the water, imagining the droplets rolling down his chest and ribs and lower. Oh, how fun it would be to take a peek at him, to find out exactly what he was working with. Seeing his muscles push the boundaries of his shirt sleeves and feeling his body against your side at the grocery store did enough to fill in the gaps in your head, but you wanted more.

A guy like him, quiet but commanding, intimidating and impassive had to be working with something good. What was the term these days? Big dick energy? 

Captain Price exuded that. 

Whatever he had hidden in those grey sweatpants, it had to be big enough to back his attitude. 

Your eyes slowly opened to stare up at the slats on the ceiling. So caught up in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed that your hand was no longer behind your head. It rest over your lower belly, exactly where the butterflies had been earlier and heat was now pooling up. You drummed your fingers over the flesh of your stomach and took your bottom lip between your teeth. 

It had been a long time since you were forced to find relief from your own hand but you hadn’t exactly thought to bring your vibrator when you were forced to pack your bags with barely any notice at all. Besides, orgasms had been the furthest thing from your mind that day.

But now, you wanted one.

Needed one.

It could clear your head.

Help you think about this fighting fire with fire plan.

Closing your eyes again, your hand slipped beneath the elastic band of your leggings as the fantasy of Captain Price in the shower returned full force to your mind. He was there again in an instant, dripping wet, breathing heavily, whispering delightfully delicious things to you and you parted your thighs.

If he were to walk in right then, he’d see you on your bed with your hand between your legs and your lips parted with want…and you’d invite him to relieve all this tension coiling up within you. 

But, unfortunately, all you had was your fantasy of a man who could possibly kill you with his bare hands and your own fingers to bring some relief. And you were just drunk enough to abandon your inhibitions and do just that.

Pushing your head back into your pillows, you sighed and slipped your middle finger into your pussy to find it already slick. You clamped your teeth harder around your lip. You hadn’t expected to be so wet but maybe you’d needed this touch of relief more than you thought you did. All the teasing and bickering with Captain Price the past several days had been like foreplay, pushing you toward an edge you didn’t even realize you were teetering on.

But now that you were dangerously close to it, you didn’t want to back away.

Instead, you edged yourself forward, stroking your clit in slow circles as you imagined it was Captain Price’s fingers. You pictured his body beside yours, one hand between your thighs while the other held you tight against his chest to keep you right where he wanted you. 

Would he whisper in your ear how wet you were, how good you felt, how badly he wanted to fuck you?

Just imagining his deep voice against your ear nearly made you arch off the bed and you squeezed your breast with your free hand, kneading the flesh and pinching the hardened bud of your nipple. You were breathless now, practically panting with every stroke and swirl of your finger around your clit. 

So caught up in your pleasure and the coil of heat tightening within you, you hadn’t heard the water turning off in the shower. And had you not had that third glass of whiskey, you might have noticed that Captain Price was opening the door.

But you were too caught up, too focused on your own pleasure because you were close now, so close that you whimpered and gasped. Your toes curled and hips rolled into your own touch as your whimpers turned into moans in your throat. And just when you thought you couldn’t take it any longer, that the tension and heat was too much, you found the release you were so desperate for. 

As your orgasm swept through your center and pulsed with pleasure in time with your heartbeat, you couldn’t help but cry out from it. Not too loud but enough that your eyes snapped open to the slats of the ceiling above you and your face flushed with heat and a bit of embarrassment. Your breath was quick and shuddered in your chest as you rode the fading waves of pleasure and you hoped you hadn’t been too loud. 

The fantasy of Captain Price in the shower and in its place was the realization that the shower was no longer running. You slowly pulled your hand out of your panties and let your eyes move to the bedroom door.

It was still shut and locked the same way it had been but something was different. 

You sat up on your elbows and stared in horror at the shadow behind the crack in the door. With a quiet, almost completely inaudible creak of the floorboard in the hallway, Captain Price stepped away from your door and you listened to the soft footsteps disappear into the living room. 

Had he heard you?

No.

You refused to believe it.

You hadn’t been that loud.

You had only moaned…in relative silence with him right on the other side of your bedroom door.

Fuck!

If he stood there for even a minute, he would have definitely heard you and if he heard you, then you’d never be able to look him in the eye again. You fell back on the bed and covered your face with your hands, your cheeks burning hot with humiliation. There was no way in hell you could ever face him again.

You turned and glared at the empty, plastic cup sitting on your nightstand, wanting nothing more than to smack it for getting you into this. You should have just let him pour it down the drain when he had the chance but no. You had to have the bright idea of keeping it without thinking about how poor your decision-making skills were when you were drunk.

Drunk and horny was definitely not a good combination for you.

Stupid fucking whiskey. 

---

By the time you woke up the next morning, you’d already been through the five stages of grief twice and were tiptoeing the line between depression and acceptance. On one hand, you were sure that he’d heard you and if he had, you knew you couldn’t face him again. It was too much, too humiliating. 

He would know you’d touched yourself. How were you supposed to even be in the same room with him ever again?

But on the other hand, the one trying to drag you into acceptance territory reasoned with you. So what if he heard you? You were human. It was perfectly normal and hell, who’s to say he hasn’t done the same while you were hidden away in your bedroom?

The thought lit your face with a blush and you cut your eyes to the door. How many times had he laid on that couch and jerked off with you in the next room? You couldn’t help the mental images that flooded your head of Price’s hand around his cock, stroking it in the dark, possibly with thoughts of you in his mind.

No.

You couldn’t let yourself get distracted. Again.

Though the thoughts were quite hot to think about, you brushed them under the rug in your mind to save for later. Now, you had to make a decision.

You planned to saunter out there in your shortest shorts, showing as much skin as you could, to make breakfast for him before he could wake up, but that hadn’t happened. You sat on the corner of your bed, too nervous to even open the door and peek out, and listened as Captain Price moved about the kitchen. 

He didn’t offer you any breakfast, probably assuming you were still asleep, and about fifteen minutes ago, you heard his boots thump on the floor. The front door opened and he left for his usual walk around the perimeter to check for assassins or bears or whatever threats could be out there.

There was no point hiding.

Eventually, you’d have to leave your room, and sooner or later, you’d have to speak to him again or at least be in the same room. This was like ripping a bandaid off. You just had to suck it up and get it over with. 

Standing from the bed, you smoothed your hand over your hair, brushing it away from your face before glancing at your reflection in the mirror. Your shorts were rolled up at the waist, shortening them by at least an inch and you twisted your body to check the backside. Your t-shirt didn’t quite cover your ass, which was what you wanted. 

Just a comfy outfit to lounge around the house in.

Even though you’d planned it out with careful consideration the night before…of course, that was before you’d laid in bed and touched yourself to thoughts about a man fifteen years your senior who had the personality of a prickly cactus most days.

You took a deep breath and reached for the doorknob before you could stop yourself, wrenching it open. Whatever force propelled you to actually rip the metaphorical band-aid off pushed you out into the hallway and around the corner to the kitchen.

With a glance at the living area, you found it empty as you suspected, and spun on your heel to the kitchen. You weren’t necessarily hungry, but you had to occupy yourself, do something with your hands to keep busy. Besides, it’d look really strange if Price came back to see you just standing in the middle of the room, staring longingly at the empty couch.

You knelt to the bottom cabinets and grabbed one of his many boxes of Cheerios and found a bowl drying by the sink. As you poured your milk and rooted around the utensil drawer for a spoon, the sound of footsteps on the porch made you freeze.

Your eyes went wide and you quickly capped the milk and grabbed the nearest utensil to your hand which wasn’t a spoon at all. It was a knife. Pretty difficult to eat with but you were already holding it in your hand by the time the door opened behind you.

In an instant, the air in the cabin seemed to grow warm and thicker with a tension you weren’t prepared to face. Heat flooded your face and memories of your previous night filled your head. You on the bed, your hand in your panties, the moans and whimpers escaping your lips.

Oh, fuck, you should’ve stayed in your bedroom.

The bandaid was ripped off but you were suddenly terrified of turning to face him. Would he look at you differently? Would you know the truth as soon as you looked in his eyes?

“Morning, princess.”

And then there was his voice, so deep and scratchy that you could practically feel it against your skin. Before you could stop yourself, you turned to face him and opened your mouth to give him a sweet-as-sugar greeting…and never got the chance.

He moved into the living area, pushing the door shut behind him and you were glad that he turned to the couch and put his back to you because you couldn’t help your jaw drop. You hadn’t expected to find him a bit sweaty and completely fucking shirtless. He had on a pair of black joggers and the shirt he had apparently shed on his run hung from his hand as he moved to the living area where his belongings were.

It all happened so fast, you really didn’t see any of it happening.

One second you were alone in the kitchen and the next you had a full view of his bare chest and back, of the muscles and faint scars that were just begging to be traced. Your fingers loosened their hold on the utensil in your hand and you sucked in a breath, realizing half a second too late that a knife was falling quickly to your feet.

You tried to catch it but failed miserably, managing only to slice your middle finger and your knee in some kind of klutzy feat. The knife clattered to the floor inches from your feet and you jumped back, slamming into the fridge as droplets of blood dripped from your hand to the floor.

“Shit!”

Captain Price was in the kitchen before the word had even left your mouth and you squeezed your uninjured hand around your sliced finger. The blood flowed a bit faster and though you’d never really had an aversion to seeing it, you couldn’t help the dizziness that swam through your head.

Or maybe that had something to do with the shirtless man right in front of you.

Another hand grabbed your wrist and you lifted your eyes to find Price staring down at the scene in bewilderment. 

“What happened?”

“I—I dropped the knife.”

“Why were you trying to eat cereal with a knife?”

Despite the throbbing wound on your finger and the blood trailing down your shin from the cut on your knee, you scowled at him. “Can you not be an ass for five minutes?”

Captain Price sighed and clucked his tongue in disappointment, his gaze finding yours for a second before he led you to the sink. He ran the cold water and instructed you to hold your finger under the faucet. 

“I’ll get some bandages. Don’t move.”

You nodded and held your finger steady, cursing the tremble in your legs. Pain was starting to sting from both cuts and you pulled your finger free of the water. In an instant, bright, fresh blood bubbled back to the surface and you grimaced.

From the bathroom, you could hear him rummage in the cabinet for a second before he was back in the kitchen, a small, white box in his hand. He set it on the counter and took hold of your wrist again, positioning it back under the water. 

“I said don’t move.”

“I was just checking if it was still bleeding.”

His eyes lifted to you. “Is it?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Let’s hope you don’t need stitches.” He popped open the lid to the box and pulled out a few strips of guaze, bandaids, and a tube of antibacterial cream. As he closed the box and glanced at you, he seemed to notice the trail of blood on your leg and blinked in surprise, his brows pinching in a frown.

“How did you manage that?” 

“I tried to catch it,” you said sheepishly, looking back at the faucet to hide the pink tint spreading across your cheeks. “And failed.”

“I can see that, princess. Get on the counter.”

You whipped your head up to stare at him, your voice coming out as a whisper. “What?”

Price sighed and moved closer to you, slipping his hands to your waist. As you sucked in a breath of surprise at his touch and how close his bare chest was to you now, he lifted you off the floor and set you down on the counter. 

He stepped back to the first aid supplies he laid out beside the sink but his scent lingered, filling your senses with a heady, rich musk that made your eyes nearly roll back in your head. You pursed your lips and turned to look at the fridge, swallowing down the sudden flare of desire that rushed through you. This wasn’t good.

Liking him was stupid.

Touching yourself to thoughts of him was disastrous.

But this…this was torture.

From the corner of your eye, you watched him grab your wrist, the feel of his warm fingers against your skin sending a shiver up your spine. He pulled your finger out of the water and inspected the wound right in the bend of your second knuckle. Without a word, he uncapped the tube of cream and smoothed it across the cut with a strip of gauze. As soon as he had your finger wrapped, he taped it off and lifted his gaze to you.

You hoped he couldn’t tell how badly you were swooning. Because you were. And it was such a bad idea to be attracted to this but here you were. So fucking attracted.

“There. That should stop the bleeding. Let’s take a look at your leg.” 

One corner of his lips curled in a small smile that, at one time, you had wanted to smack off his face. Seeing it now only made you want to kiss it. 

You could only stare as he peered down at your knee, reaching for the roll of paper towels with one hand. He ripped a few squares off and wet them beneath the faucet. While you were perfectly capable of cleaning the streak of blood from your leg, you didn’t stop him when he curled his hand beneath your ankle and lifted it, straightening your leg. A sting of pain in your knee made you suck in a breath and he glanced up at you to make sure you were alright.

Price propped your foot up on his thigh and gently wiped the drying blood away from your leg and you were thankful that you’d dry shaved that morning and smothered your legs with lotion afterward. 

“This one doesn’t look too bad. Just a puncture wound.”

He applied the same treatment to it, covering it with cream and a thicker bandaid and while he did so, you couldn’t stop thinking about the way his hands felt against your skin. So warm and rough though his touch was gentle. They were the hands of a soldier. 

As he smoothed the edge of the bandaid with his thumb, sending another shiver racing up your spine, you stared at him. 

“You seem to know your way around a first aid kit.”

“I’ve seen my share of wounds, princess.” Price held out his hand and you blinked at his offer. Slowly, almost too scared to touch him with your own hand, knowing the temptation to pull him closer to you was too strong, you hesitantly slid your uninjured fingers into his and let him guide you off the counter. 

As soon as your feet touched the floor, you ducked your head to hide the rush of heat to your face and pulled your hand free. You shook the hair from your face and glanced at your bowl of Cheerios getting soggier by the second. When you slid your gaze back to him, you found him packing up the first aid kit. 

“Then do you think I’ll live, Captain?”

You watched a smile stretch his lips and as he turned to face you again, you took your bottom lip between your teeth and clamped down. The pain wasn’t enough to deter your body from reacting to him and your stomach filled with butterflies as soon as his gaze met yours. 

“I hope so, princess.”

He winked at you, turned on his heel, and disappeared around the corner to return the first aid kit to the cabinet in the bathroom. You gripped the counter tightly to keep yourself from melting to the floor and winced at the sudden pain that flared from the cut on your finger. So caught off guard by that wink, you’d opened the wound and fresh blood dotted the gauze as you lifted your hand to inspect it.

Oh, well. 

You’d just have to get him to use his first-aid skills to reapply the bandage later.

As you turned to your bowl of cereal and pulled it toward you, you stared at the soggy circles and realized you never found a spoon. And you’d been so caught up by the sight of him, you completely forgot about what had happened last night. 

Oh, well. 

You didn’t care if he heard you.

As you opened the drawer and found a spoon, dropping it into the bowl with a ding of the ceramic, Captain Price strolled back into the room and your eyes slid to him. He announced he was going to take a look a the hot water heater to see what needs to be done to fix it. You barely heard a word.

“Getting a bit tired of cold showers,” he mumbled, grabbing a few items from one of the black bags he brought with him. You brought a spoonful of Cheerios to your mouth and nodded, watching him pull out a few tools. 

“Me too,” you murmured as soon as you swallowed. “I want some heat.”

And you weren’t talking about the temperature of the water.

---

 

Notes:

Ugh, I cannot WAIT until this gets reeeaallly steamy between these two.........

Chapter 9: Shiver

Notes:

All I have to say about this chapter is.............I liked it.....I'll like the next one even better though :)

---

It took two days for Captain Price to admit he couldn't solve the hot water issue with the tools and supplies he had on hand at the cabin. You'd watched him off and on through the days, mostly to annoy him but also to see him on his hands and knees using various wrenches and screwdrivers. Occasionally, he would curse or growl in fury and those were your favorite moments, the ones that made your eyes go wide and your stomach clench.

When he wasn't angry at the hot water heater for not bending to his will, he reluctantly answered the numerous questions you had about his cabin and past. Though it was like pulling teeth getting him to actually tell you. 

Most of the time, he gave you quick answers that left you with more questions than you'd had before. 

Like when you asked him how he got the cabin, he told you he built it himself. 

And if you thought he'd divulge any more information than that, you were mistaken. The moment you got too close to actually learning about his past, he'd go quiet and need to concentrate—which you knew was his way of telling you he didn't want to give you much else. Needless to say, you got bored standing in the hallway, watching him wedge himself between the hot water heater and the wall, and occupied yourself elsewhere. 

Which was what you had done by noon when he came knocking at your bedroom door, startling you so badly you nearly fell off the bed. You wrenched open the door and opened your mouth to scold him for pounding the door like the damn police but he didn’t give you a chance to speak. 

“We’re going into town.”

You clamped your mouth shut and blinked up at him. “Why?”

“I need to go to the hardware store.”

“And I suppose you still don’t trust me to stay here by myself?”

Price took a step back and gestured with his hand for you to follow him. “Not you I don’t trust, princess.”

“Right. You think ninja assassins will swarm the cabin as soon as you hit the highway or something.”

“Get dressed and come on.” He wasn’t in the mood to deal with your sass and you scoffed, glancing down at your clothes—a pair of shorts and a tanktop.

“I am dressed.” You slipped your feet into a pair of flip-flops and passed him in the hallway. As you turned the corner, you glanced at him from over your shoulder, catching his gaze lifting to your face. If you didn’t know any better, you’d suspect him of staring at something much lower…like your ass. The corner of your lips curled into a small smile. “Why? Am I showing too much skin or something?”

Captain Price sighed and stomped ahead of you, making your smile stretch into a grin. Whether or not he was blushing because you caught him checking you out, you didn’t know, but you liked the thought of a blush turning such a stern, stoic face pink. 

You followed him out the door, pausing at the top step on the porch so he could lock the cabin up behind you and when he turned to lead the way to the car, his gaze caught yours for just a second. Oh, yeah. He was blushing. It may have been hidden behind his facial hair but you were quite familiar with the burn of embarrassment by now. You let him pass and trotted after him, an unmistakable bounce in your step as you circled the SUV and opened the passenger side door.

“Can we stop by that thrift store again? I’d like to check it out.”

“No.”

His sour attitude, which at one time would have made you roll your eyes and pout, only widened your grin. He was trying so hard to be a grouch. You used to think it came naturally to him, and maybe it did, but his tough guy facade was cracking. You’d seen how gentle he could be when he patched up your finger and knee the other day and knew he had a decent sense of humor. 

Someone who didn’t would have never put up with your antics for this long. 

It didn’t take as long to reach the hardware store as you thought. It was right on the edge of town, with a local fast-food joint next door and an empty parking lot on the other side. You stepped out of the SUV and shut the door behind you, breathing in the delicious scent of burgers and fries and all sorts of unhealthy things. 

A tall, blue sign with a letterboard stood between the hardware store and the fast food place and you peered up at the words. Joe’s Grease Pit. Now hiring.

“Oh, look. They’re hiring,” you said, pointing up at the sign that Price didn’t even glance at. “If this whole bodyguard thing doesn’t pan out for you, at least you’ve got choices around here.”

He stepped up on the sidewalk and turned his scowl toward you, stuffing the keys into the front pocket of his jeans. By the time you reached him right in front of the store, his words were spoken through clenched teeth. “We’re supposed to be lying low.”

“Because there’s so many people around to hear me?” 

He didn’t glance around but didn’t exactly have to. There was only one car parked on the street and it was his SUV. “Just get inside.”

To your delight, Price placed his hand on your lower back, right above the waistband of your shorts, and practically pushed you into the hardware store. You could barely keep the smile off your face and pursed your lips so he couldn’t see the look on your face. 

The inside of the store was bigger than it looked on the outside, sprawling the length of the building with a labyrinth of shelves and aisles filled to the brim with things you were only vaguely familiar with. Paint fumes hit you as soon as you walked in and you wrinkled your nose as you looked around. PVC pipe parts filled several bins near the front counter and you grabbed one in the shape of a T as you passed. Price was quick to snatch it from your hand and toss it back into the bin before propelling you forward.

The further you followed him into the store, the worse the fumes became and you pinched your nose between your fingers. By the time he found what he was searching for, your eyes were watering. It smelled like buckets of paint thinner or something equally awful and the longer you stood there, staring at the shelf of various sizes of metal couplings, your stomach churned. 

“It smells awful in here.”

Captain Price ignored you and stepped closer to the shelf, inspecting two different items that looked identical if it weren’t for the lengths. You glanced at the front of the store where the smell wasn’t so strong and wondered if you could just make a break for it. Turning back to face him, you took a deep breath in through your mouth that nearly made you gag. How could it taste bad as well?

Price knelt down to inspect another shelf and you gagged.

“For real, it’s making me sick.”

Again, he ignored you and you sighed. 

“Can I go wait outside or something? Or like in the car? I’m seriously about to puke.” Putrid smells have never been your strong suit. Even when your dorm mate burned her popcorn last year, you could barely stand it and had to air the room out. After the second incident, you forbid her from ever cooking popcorn in your room.

This, however, was a thousand times worse.

When he still didn’t respond or even glance up at you, you smacked his shoulder with the back of your free hand and glared down at him from over your fingers still pinching your nose shut. “I’m serious!”

Price stood to his full height and kept his gaze on you as he did so. If you weren’t currently fighting the urge to throw up, you’d have found it incredibly attractive. Especially the annoyed line his lips were pressed into. “Fine,” he surprised you by saying, pulling the car keys out of his front pocket. They dropped into your hand and you closed your fingers around them. “Don’t wander off.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not a child.”

As you turned to all but flee from the wretched smell of paint thinner and whatever other chemicals this hardware store had recently spilled, Price reached out and curled his hand around your elbow, spinning you back around to face him. Your hand fell away from your face and while your first instinct was to gag, you held your breath and stared up at him with parted lips and butterflies going crazy in your stomach.

“I mean it, princess. Don’t make me come find you.”

Was that a threat or a promise? Your knees nearly wobbled and toes curled in your shoes as you stood there, unable to move or even breathe.

“Yes, sir.” Somehow, you managed to remember how to speak and said the first thing that popped into your mind. Your voice came out breathy and soft. It was completely unintentional but to some unexpected reaction from him. 

His gaze darkened and the fingers he kept around your elbow tightened for half a second, just enough to make your breath hitch in your throat. For a moment, you thought he might pull you even closer to him—you hoped he would. 

Whatever had come over him was quickly pushed aside and Price’s hand slipped away from your arm. He reached up to scrub his face and turned away from you, walking to the end of the aisle to possibly put distance between the two of you. While you wanted to follow after him, provoke whatever that was to return, the fumes were starting to break through the daze you’d found yourself in.

You had to get out of here…before you threw up or did something stupid like jump him in the middle of the smelly hardware store.

You spun on your heel and fled, holding your breath the entire way until you pushed through the glass door and sucked in the fresh air. Though it was summer, the sky was cast with heavy clouds and you welcomed the breeze that carried the promise of rain. You needed it to cool the heat clinging to your skin.

It took three steps to make it to Price’s SUV and you put your hands against the car door, ducking your head as you took a few steadying breaths. The uncomfortable clench of your stomach was slowly easing but you couldn’t get that look on his face, the way his eyes searched yours and carried so many promises behind them, out of your head. How could he make you feel so weak in the knees with just a look that lasted barely a single second? 

It had been long enough though. You wouldn’t be able to forget it.

As you pushed away from the car and took a step back to open the door, a figure caught your sight out of the corner of your eye and you glanced to the fast food parking lot. Standing under the now hiring sign, with his back to the pole and his gaze on you, was a man that instantly gave you the creeps.

He looked like a local, generic white guy with a backward hat, jean shorts cut off at the knee, and a mechanic’s workshirt left unbuttoned to give you a view of his collection of torso tattoos. You blinked and hesitated a moment, knowing there was nothing wrong with him but you still couldn’t shake the weird feeling you got in your gut.

You climbed into the car and shut the door, quickly locking it and double-checking to make sure you had. 

The guy didn’t move except for his hands. He lifted a cigarette to his mouth and lit it and you watched him take a deep drag from it, eyes never leaving yours. When he pulled away and blew the cloud of smoke out, he lifted his free hand and waved his fingers at you. A slow smile spread across his face at the same time that creeping sensation in your stomach turned to ice.

On the other side of the car, the sound of the door opening cut through your thoughts and you gasped, whirling around to see Captain Price slide into the driver’s seat with a white plastic bag in his hand. He eyed you warily as he shut the door behind him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. You just scared me.”

For a second, he sat there, his gaze unwavering from you. Before he put the key into the ignition, he asked you again. “Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

You sighed and glanced back at the guy still standing by the sign. He took another drag but didn’t wave at you this time. Just watched you. 

“This guy just looks creepy.”

“What guy?” Price leaned forward and easily spotted him. He didn’t linger long. 

With a twist of the key in the ignition, Price backed out of the space and sped off in the opposite direction. By the time he turned left, he glanced at you. “Did he say anything to you?”

“No. Just waved and stared.”

He stayed quiet, took a right, and thankfully, the further away you got from that creep and the hardware store, the better you felt. Of course, you’d feel normal if he wouldn’t stop glancing in the rearview mirror every ten seconds. You spun around in your seat and stared out the back window though there was nothing really to look at.

Only one car was following and they slowed to a stop before taking a left. You turned back around and stared at Price, finding him glancing again at his mirrors. “Okay, you’re kind of freaking me out. Why do you keep looking behind us?”

“Just a precaution.”

“I appreciate you doing your job well, but I doubt some local yokel is the terrorist after me and my father.”

Surprisingly, he laughed—a deep, rasp of a sound that replaced the uncomfortable knots in your stomach with a warmth that quickly unraveled them. You hated how much you’d grown to adore his voice. 

Taking another left that led to the main highway, Price glanced at you, his eyes raking down the length of your body and leaving you warm in their wake. “Touché. Maybe he just liked you.”

“Is this your way of saying my shorts are too short again?”

“I never said they were too short.”

“You implied it.”

“Rubbish.”

“So you like them this short?”

Captain Price opened his mouth and shut it half a second later. His brow pinched in a frown and lips pursed in that familiar way when he was getting flustered. Which wasn’t often and it usually only lasted for seconds. You settled back in your seat and looked out the window to hide the smile that refused to leave your face. For the rest of the drive, he stayed silent.

By the time the car turned onto the gravel, mile-long driveway leading to the cabin, the clouds opened up and the rain pelted the windshield. Thankfully, he parked a little closer to the cabin steps and you didn’t have to run far to get inside. But you managed to get soaked in the three seconds it took to make it to the covered porch and while it was fun to make Captain Price squirm with your tanktop and short shorts, you were freezing. 

The AC blasting as soon as you walked in didn’t help either. You trembled from head to toe and rushed to the thermostat in the hallway exactly across from where the hot water heater was located. Price came around the corner at the same time you turned to run into the bedroom to change clothes and you slammed into his broad chest. In an instant, you stumbled back as he reached forward and he steadied you on your feet with his hands gripping your arms just above your elbow.

It was the second time he’d touched you there today and unlike the last time, you didn’t have any paint fumes making you want to flee. You held your breath and stared up at him as his eyes met yours. 

The hallway felt both enormous and as if the walls were closing in on you, pushing you closer to one another. Heat and tension spiked and with nowhere to go, it settled between your bodies like the storm clouds hovering over the cabin outside. A shiver fell down the length of your spine but you barely trembled, suddenly finding a kind of heat that warmed you from the inside out. 

That look in his eyes, the same one from the hardware store had returned and for a split second, only a single beat of your heart, you thought he might kiss you. His gaze dropped to your lips and you found your hand reaching for his chest. Though he had a grip on your arms still, you were able to curl the material of his shirt in your fingers.

You wanted him.

And it was unmistakable now.

He wanted you as well.

But did he know how you felt? Couldn’t he see it written in your eyes?

Even though you’d decided that you didn’t care about the consequences, Captain Price was different. He was the kind of man that cared about the consequences and calculated his every move. He didn’t act on impulse like you and before you were ready, his hands fell from your arms and he cleared his throat, taking a step away. 

Though you wanted to keep your grip on his shirt and pull him closer, you let your fingers relax and the fabric slipped free. 

“You’re shivering,” he said, his voice quiet—barely a whisper at all. It sent another shiver through you that had nothing to do with the cold. 

“Yeah…” You didn’t know what else to say and it was too much of a risk trying to carry on a conversation. The longer your mouth was open, the easier it would be to just tell him exactly how you felt, how you couldn’t shake this attraction, and every day that passed only made you want him more. 

“I should have the hot water going soon.”

You didn’t care about the hot water. There was a different kind of heat you were craving. 

As the two of you parted ways, him heading for the small closet where he would work on the hot water heater and you moving toward your bedroom, you spun on your heel and called out to him before he could get too busy.

Price glanced back at you, his stare still a bit cloudy with desire. Butterflies went crazy and a few even traveled between your thighs, fluttering at your core. “Do you want to do something tonight?”

He blinked and shook his head. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged and picked at a loose splinter on the doorframe, fighting the sudden urge to tell him never mind. You didn’t want to stay cooped up in your bedroom for another night. You wanted a hot shower, a nice dinner, and to have fun. 

“I don’t know. I bought those cards…we could play some games…maybe have a few drinks?”

Another spike of tension pulled your attention away from the splinter and your gaze landed on him once again. He stayed still and quiet, his eyes narrowed but not out of anger. He was trying to convince himself of any reason why they shouldn’t, why it would be a bad idea. 

He was your bodyguard.

You were his ward.

It could get messy. 

But you never minded making a mess.

Captain Price cleared his throat and turned his stare to the small coupling piece he’d picked up at the hardware store. For a second, you feared he’d say no…but he surprised you with a nod as he lifted his head and met your gaze.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, almost completely hidden under the sounds of the rain pouring against the roof. “I’d like that.”

There was no stopping the smile that stretched your lips slowly. 

“Me too.”

---

 

Notes:

I cannot wait to post the next chapter...

Chapter 10: War

Notes:

Captain Price finally gets that hot shower and you two go to war... >:)

---

For the first time since you walked through the door of your father’s house two and a half weeks ago, something was going right. Steam—glorious, hot steam —filled the bathroom and you stood beneath the spray of the showerhead, letting the actual hot water cascade down your body. 

You almost moaned but learned your lesson the last time you’d let one slip. 

Captain Price was just another room away and though the splatter of water on the floor of the tub was loud enough to cover any sound you made, you didn’t want to risk it. Him knowing you’d touched himself in your bed was bad enough.

No.

Not your bed.

His bed.

This was his cabin after all and though he’d given you the only bedroom, it still wasn’t technically yours. Just temporarily yours. 

Knowing you’d been sleeping not only a few steps away but also in a bed he had more than likely previously occupied himself never failed to conjure about a dozen mental images in your head. You wondered what else he could have done in that bed…slept with someone? Jerked off?

The thought curled the corner of your lips as you lathered your cheap, but decently nice, shampoo into your hair. Suds slid down your shoulder and chest as you turned in the water and started to rinse. 

You rather liked the thought of a man like Captain Price touching himself. Someone so strong, so in control giving in to his desire, needing the same kind of release you’d been needing the past few days.

It was that exact fantasy that turned you on most nights that you laid in his bed. 

And if you thought about it anymore, you were going to do something stupid…like touch yourself in the heat of the water and moan. 

You soaped your body quickly and rinsed the conditioner from the ends of your hair, lingering just long enough in the hot water to truly savor it—there was no telling if it would last. Knowing it was rude to hog it all, you turned the water off and reached for your towel with one hand and Price’s bucket hat that, no matter what truce was unfolding between the two of you, still didn’t leave your sight. 

You wrapped your towel around your body and the hat pressed against your chest and hurried to your room. Before disappearing inside, you leaned back out and called out to Price. “Shower’s all yours, Pricey!”

He grumbled something from the kitchen, too low for you to hear, and you closed the door behind you with a smile. He was still grumbling by the time he walked to the bathroom to take his own shower. This time, you could hear a few words like ‘taking too bloody long’ and ‘my hat’. You grinned as the door to the bathroom shut.

As you stood beside the dresser and the luggage you still hadn’t quite unpacked all the way, the shower came to life again and you looked up at the shared wall between the bedroom and the bathroom. You could hear through it, but not much. The shift of the shower curtain over the rod, the splatter of the water, Captain Price’s reaction to finally getting a proper hot shower. 

The groan he let out, muffled only by the walls and the spray of the water, was loud enough to make your knees weak and you were thankful the bed was so close in case you needed to sit down. Did he do that on purpose? Surely he knew you’d be able to hear him. 

After a moment, you heard nothing else and decided to get dressed. 

In your haste to flee your father’s house, you hadn’t exactly picked out very many cute things. The two bras you’d brought along didn’t match a single pair of panties you had and you wished you’d at least packed a dress or skirt. Instead, you had one pair of jean shorts, some comfy shorts to sleep in, leggings, and an array of t-shirts and tank tops. Nothing that you’d wear to impress a guy or make him want you.

And knowing you and Price had a very unofficial date-thing tonight, you were desperate for something to make him want you. Just a little bit. 

It was only fair.

With your jeans dirty and out of the question, you picked a pair of red shorts and a black tee. But by the time you stepped into the shorts, something nearly made you topple completely over. 

A sound.

Not just any sound though…

A moan …

That shuddering breath that shifted into a low moan that you could tell he was trying to keep quiet was all it took to catch your attention. You'd recognize it anywhere, especially having heard it from your own lips a time or two the past few days. 

You stood in the bedroom and listened past the spray of water hitting the shower floor, almost turning away before you heard it again. A jolt of heat shot through you, racing through your veins and settling in your lower belly.

Captain Price was touching himself in the shower. 

In an instant, the realization of that turned your knees weak and you put a hand on the bed to steady yourself as mental images flooded your mind. That wasn't the same kind of noise he'd made from the hot water. This was visceral, needy, and so, so , hot. 

Even muffled behind the wall and the sound of the shower, it sank through you and melted you from the inside out. You stared at your reflection in the mirror in front of you, waiting, listening for more, and when it came in the form of a low, breathy groan, you closed your eyes. This was just cruel. He knew you could hear him and he was tormenting you.

Falling back on the bed, you kept your eyes closed so all the delicious fantasies he was giving you could play out and you couldn’t help yourself. You slipped your hand beneath your panties and though Captain Price wouldn’t be able to hear the sighs and moans of pleasure from you this time, you used the echoes of his to bring you that release you suddenly craved.

---

The rain hadn’t let up all afternoon. It softened into a drizzle for about an hour before the clouds opened back up and poured in heavy sheets as the sun disappeared below the thick trees of the surrounding woods. You hadn’t yet ventured out of your room, becoming too flushed every time you reached for the doorknob. 

It was too much.

Sure, he didn’t know you’d touched yourself while he touched himself in the shower, but you knew.

You knew the sounds he made as he stroked his cock, the hitch of his breath, and the sigh that slipped from his lips. It was a sound you’d never forget and wanted to hear again—preferably in your ear as he fucked you. 

Of course, that only made you flush even more and you stepped away from the bedroom door, pacing for a few moments while you gathered your thoughts. Having a crush on the guy because he was attractive was one thing. Actually liking him because he was sweet and fun to tease was another…but wanting to fuck him? Actively trying to fuck him ?

You took your bottom lip between your teeth and glanced at your reflection in the mirror. After your afternoon of self-pleasure, you’d dressed in the clothes you picked out before—shorts and a tee—but you hung his hat around your neck, letting it rest against your back while the string was loose at your throat. You considered wearing it on your head, but figured it’d be too easy to snatch it back.

You almost wanted him to try.

As your eyes cut to the door, you took a deep breath and listened for him in the other room. For the past half hour, he’d been in the kitchen and you knew sooner or later, he’d come to fetch you for dinner. There was no point in hiding. Not that you wanted to…you just couldn’t shake the feeling that the night wouldn’t end without something happening. 

What that something was, you had no idea…but you definitely wanted to find out.

Before you could convince yourself to chicken out, you reached for the door and pulled it open, planning to rush out and meet him in the kitchen. Instead, you sucked in a breath and jumped at least an inch off the ground at the sight of Captain Price standing at your door, a hand raised to knock.

“Shit!” You put a hand to your chest and closed your eyes against the rush of heat to your face. Memories of the sounds he’d made in the shower flooded your mind in a single beat of your heart and you almost shut the door in his face. “You scared me.”

“Likewise, princess.”

At one time, you’d hated him calling you that. How had you come to like it so much in just a few short weeks?

You opened your eyes but couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. You settled your gaze on the dark gray shirt stretched across his chest and you wanted nothing more than to reach up and grab hold of it and pull him into your room. Unfortunately, he didn’t give you a chance.

“You hungry?”

“Yeah.”

Food was the last thing on your mind, but he’d made a deliciously smelling meal of pan-seared garlic and butter potatoes with strips of steak. You practically floated to the table like the old school cartoons and ate everything he had cooked and could have eaten seconds—possibly thirds. But it was hard to stuff your stomach with food when it was full of knots as well. 

You helped Price clean up, the conversation between you light…but you couldn’t help noticing it was a bit forced. Like you both were scared that if you talked too much, you might say something you were scared to say out loud.

The front door was open to let in the cool breeze from the storm and the sound of the rain falling in sheets helped cover any awkward silence between you. By the time the kitchen was tidy enough, you left Price to put away dishes and took your spot at the table beside the open window. 

You grabbed the box of cards he’d bought you from the thrift store and pulled them free. After a quick glance, you decided all 52 were accounted for and shuffled them, drawing Price’s attention. He shut the cabinets and grabbed a bottle of water, pausing to turn the light off before making his way over.

“What games do you know how to play?”

You winced. “Mm, I can play Go Fish…and maybe Poker, but I’d need a round or two to refresh my memory. What about you?”

“I don’t know many you can play with only two people. Aside from Poker, I suppose.”

“Then let's play that,” you grinned up at him, sliding the deck toward him to shuffle and deal. Price took a seat and pulled it close to the table, glancing from you down to the deck. After he was satisfied they were properly shuffled, he laid down two cards for each of you and set three of them face up in the center.

A jack of spades, a two of hearts, and a four of diamonds. 

You peeked at the two cards he dealt you and frowned. It had been years since you played any kind of card game—possibly a decade. The last time you played, it had been Go Fish with one of your father’s many girlfriend’s kids that you were forced to spend time with. You had ended up winning, said something to make the kid cry, and that was the last time you were allowed to play.

Price sat back in his chair and you eyed him. Did he have something good? 

You hated losing. 

This might have been a bad idea.

“Hit me,” you said and Price blinked at you.

“Wrong game, princess.”

“Well, what if I want another card? These suck.” 

With a sigh, Price took another card from the stack and laid it face up next to the other three—a queen. You stared at the three of hearts and ten of spades in your hand and realized that you had something …though you weren’t sure what you had yet. A queen, a jack, and a ten surely meant something good.

“This is where we’d raise the bet if we were playing with money,” he said, setting his two cards down on the table. 

“What would you raise it to if we were?”

He glanced up at you, a look you weren’t exactly prepared for passing over his face. It was quick and he masked it before it could even make your body properly react, but you recognized the heat behind it. You took a deep breath and shifted on the chair.

“Depends on what we were betting in the first place, princess.”

“My phone.” The words were out of your mouth before you could swallow them down, but Price was instantly intrigued. He stared pointedly at the hat strings hanging at your throat.

“Oh, I’d never bet that. Not unless you bet something equivalent first.”

A grin stretched your lips and you sat back in the chair. “Not this round, Pricey. I’d only bet that when I’m sure I’ll win.”

Price sat forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the table, and flipped his cards over. A three of diamonds and an ace of hearts. He positioned them between the two and the four from the initial hand and gave you a tight smile. “Straight.”

Damn. He was better than you hoped he would be. Then again, he’d probably played more than just Go Fish in the past ten years. Sighing, you tossed your cards onto the table and watched him take them back, stack them, and shuffle again. 

“I’m definitely not going to bet anything good when I’m bad at Poker.” Price ignored you and began dealing the cards again, only this time he didn’t stop at two. He kept tossing cards your way and you quickly stacked them face down until the entire deck was dealt between the two of you. Two even piles of twenty-six cards. “What game is this?”

“War.”

Such a simple word…but the way he spoke it, his voice deep and scratchy yet velvet soft, nearly pulled a sigh from your throat. You watched him lay the first card down—a ten of diamonds—before he lifted his gaze to you and instructed you to do the same. You did and stared at the Jack of hearts.

Price pushed both cards to you. “The point is to get rid of your cards completely.”

“So I just lost this round too?”

He continued with the rules without answering you. “Highest card laid down loses. First person to get rid of their deck wins.”

“What if we lay the same card down?”

“War.”

He flipped his next card over and you did the same. You lost— again . “You’re cheating.”

“How? You saw me shuffle them. You’re just a sore loser.”

A frown pinched your brow and you sat up straight, flipping another card over at the same time he did. A two and a jack—he lost. You grinned triumphantly but Price didn’t let you gloat, laying down another card from his stack. This time, you both laid down a pair of tens and you looked up at him, waiting for him to explain. 

“Lay three cards from your deck face down. We flip the fourth at the same time.” You did as he said and just before you flipped the fourth card over, he looked up at you, stealing your breath away with the look behind his eyes. You held your breath, the beat of your heart and the rain pelting the roof and porch outside the only sound between you. “What do you bet, princess?”

“What?” The question was barely a whisper on your lips.

“You could win this round if your card is lower than mine…so what do you bet ?” 

“I’m not betting the hat.”

Price forced a tight smile that had very little humor behind it, his eyes never leaving yours. “Then you better think of something else.”

A kiss , the voice in your head that often led you to poor decisions piped up and the knots in your stomach tightened. Instead of blurting out what you truly wanted, you drummed your fingers on the table and tilted your head to the side, staring at him with the same kind of intensity he gave you. “How interesting do you want it to be?”

“As interesting as you’re willing to make it.”

Fuck …he knew exactly what he was doing to you. Here you were, trying to just have a good time, and he was being cruel and making you want him so badly you almost couldn’t stand it. It was taking all of your strength to keep your ass in the chair and not throw yourself at him. 

Your tongue darted out to lick your suddenly dry lips and Price’s gaze dropped momentarily before meeting your eyes once more. His eyebrow lifted and you fought hard against the army of butterflies assaulting your belly. 

“If I win,” you started, glancing down at the cards waiting on the table. “You have to strip.”

“Strip,” he repeated slowly. 

“Just one piece of clothing of your choice.”

“Mm,” Price nodded and stared at you for a moment, his gaze dark and narrowed. “And if I win?”

“Then…I have to take something off.”

When he spoke again, his voice had softened into almost a whisper and it sent a shiver down your spine and a rush of heat to your center. “Let’s see who won.”

Slowly, you flipped your card over and set it down on the table. Your eyes widened and a grin stretched your lips at the sight of the four of hearts staring up at you. Yes! A low card! The odds of him drawing anything lower weren’t impossible but surely you had won this round. You couldn’t wait to watch him take something off…preferably his shirt. 

And you would have totally rubbed your win in his face had he not flipped his card over and brought you crashing back to reality. 

The two of spades lay on the pile of his cards and the grin that had stretched your lips vanished. Your shoulders slumped in defeat and you hesitantly lifted your gaze to Price. Any other time, the smile on his face would have been adorable or hot—sexy even. But not now. 

You watched as he looked at you, the corners of his lips curling slightly before he spoke. 

“Looks like I win, princess.”

---

 

Notes:

He may have won the battle...but will he win the war? I'm already working on the next chapter so it should be out ASAP!

Chapter 11: Stripped Bare

Notes:

You're a sore loser and Price is a sore winner...Wonder which one is worse?

---

“Looks like I win, princess,” he said, a wicked lilt to his words. Captain Price sat back in the chair and folded his arms over his chest, his eyes raking over your body. 

Inside you, your absolute hatred of losing was warring with the unmistakable desire for this man sitting in front of you. Torn right down the middle, with one side wanting nothing more than to beat him at his own game and the other ready to strip completely naked and let him have his way, you could do nothing but sit and stare. 

You’d have to eventually move, have to take something off…but you were frozen. Would it be better to start with a sock? Of course, that would have worked had you been wearing socks. You only wore four pieces of clothes; shorts, t-shirt, panties, and bra. Well, five if you counted his hat, which you didn’t. You’d strip naked before giving that up.

There was only one option…and it could possibly bite you in the ass. 

With a deep breath, you slowly stood from the chair and reached behind your back. You unhooked your bra and slid the straps down your arms and pulled it out from the bottom of your shirt without even showing any extra skin. 

But now, there was nothing between the fabric of your shirt and your nipples…which had tightened at the sudden breeze that swept in through the open door and pushed against the material covering them. 

You stared down at Price and tossed the bra onto the arm of the couch. As it slid off and fell to the floor in a heap, his gaze lowered from your face down to your chest and your breath shuddered as you struggled to keep it steady. 

Slowly, you lowered back to the chair and crossed your legs at the knee, raking your hands over the pile of cards that you’d collected after your loss. Things weren’t looking good for this game, but you’d be damned before you gave up or admitted defeat. There was still a chance you could win and if not, you’d at least make him strip off a few items of clothing. 

“Don’t look so surprised, Captain,” you said, shuffling the deck in front of you. “I may be a sore loser, but I’d rather sit here naked than give you the satisfaction of winning.”

“Winning is satisfaction enough.”

“Hm.” You smiled sweetly. “We’ll see.”

Two cards hit the table a few minutes later, both queens, and your eyes lifted to meet Price’s at the same time. You both knew the rules, knew what was at stake. If you lost, you’d have to take off your shorts—not ideal. If he lost, he’d probably choose something boring like his shoes or belt. 

Coward.

Without one of his little quips or snarky remarks, Price laid three cards face down at you did the same. When you both had the fourth ready, your eyes met over the table, and you took a deep breath to steady yourself. You really didn’t want to take anything else off. 

Well, really, you didn’t want to lose again. 

It was starting to piss you off.

But you refused to show it. 

At the same time, you both flipped your cards over and you glanced first at yours—A jack, not ideal—then to his. Your grin returned. He laid down a king which meant—”Read ‘em and weep, Pricey.”

For a moment, he just stared at the cards and you wondered if the thought process in his head went the same way yours had when you were deciding which item of clothing was the safest to take off. His eyes narrowed, not lifting from the cards and you grinned, bouncing triumphantly in your seat from your win. 

“I’m waiting,” you said in a sing-song voice and this time, he lifted his gaze to you. If you weren’t so proud of yourself, you’d have noticed how he was staring at you…like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to beat you at this game or devour you. “Take it off, Pricey.”

“I know it wouldn’t matter to you, but I really hate when you call me that.”

“Less talking, more stripping.” 

His eyes narrowed into a deadly glare that shot ice through your chest, momentarily distracting you from how warm you were despite having fewer clothes on than you had earlier. Captain Price gathered the cards he’d collected and set them beneath his deck, glancing at you once more before he slid to the edge of the chair. 

You leaned forward until your ass was almost completely out of the chair and peered over the edge of the table until you could see his lap. Though the waist of his shirt covered the top of his jeans, you didn’t think you could see a belt, which meant he’d have to take his socks off if he wanted to be a little—

His arm lifted, catching your attention, and you sat down on the chair harder than you meant to. Your breath hitched and you watched him grab the back of his shirt behind his neck, lifting the material up until he pulled it completely away from his body. 

His muscular, defined, dusted lightly with chest hair body.

Price tossed his shirt in the direction you’d tossed your bra but he made his target. The dark fabric pooled on the arm of the couch and you watched it dangle there above your plain, white bra still lying in a heap on the floor. Slowly, you turned back to look at him, struggling to keep your eyes focused on his face. In the end, you failed. 

Despite the rain bringing in a nice, cool breeze to the room, heat spiked around you, pricking the back of your legs where they touched the chair. Sweat beaded up along the small of your back and your mouth went dry…and watered for him all at the same time.

It should be illegal for a man to look this good. 

Price didn't react to you reacting to him, barely glancing at you at all as he shuffled his deck and quietly laid down the next card. When you didn't immediately play your own, his eyes lifted to find you practically salivating from the sight of him. He tilted his head to the side.

"See something you like, princess?"

The sound of his voice triggered your brain to actually work again and you cleared your throat before snatching your cards from the table. You laid one down and lost. 

For the next several rounds, you lost three and Price lost two. At this rate, you were going to lose the whole game and you didn't know what would happen if you did. Would he wager something more than stripping? 

You were almost too scared to ask. Almost, but you were far too turned on by the idea of pushing the boundaries between the two of you that were already stretching thin. 

"So," you started, pausing to swallow down some of your fear. "What do I get if I win?"

"You sound confident for someone holding so many cards." He flipped over a card—two of diamonds. 

You turned one over as well—nine of clubs. You grabbed them both and slipped them into your deck as you shrugged.

"Maybe I'm just curious."

"We all know what curiosity did to the cat."

Price didn't immediately play his hand, taking a moment to look up at you and you did the same. Though your eyes never left his face, you managed to take in the sight of his body out of your peripherals. The stretch of his throat, his defined collar bones where a simple chain and two, round dog tags hung at the center of his chest, his biceps that looked like they could lift you easily—

And they had…the day you cut your finger and he'd sat you on the counter to inspect the puncture wound on your knee. 

He cleared his throat, the sound making you blink out of your thoughts. "Depends on what you're asking for."

"What would you ask for? Considering you're closer to winning."

His eyes dropped to the hat strings dangling around your neck and as he opened his mouth, before ever uttering a word, you reached up and set the hat right on top of your head. 

"No chance, Pricey."

His face shifted into a scowl and he sighed. 

"Are you ever going to give it back?"

"Maybe," you said with a devious grin. "Maybe I just want to tease you with it a bit longer."

Price leaned forward, eyes narrowing dangerously as he rested his elbows on the edge of the table. "You're aware that I could just take it from you, aren't you? It would be easy."

"And yet, you haven't."

"Because it'll be far more satisfying to make you give it to me."

Though your body was practically buzzing with lust and anticipation, the butterflies in your stomach wild and almost bruising, you leaned forward a bit and narrowed your eyes on him. The rain outside pelted the tin roof, filling the quiet before you responded. 

"There's only one way you're getting this back, Captain." Your voice dropped low but you knew he heard every word. 

"And how's that?"

"When you beg for it." With trembling fingers, you flipped your card over and nearly sucked in a breath at the sight of the matching numbers. Two aces. 

War.

Price stared down at the cards and you swallowed. Someone was going to have to strip. He at least still had socks on but you…you were dangerously close to running out of options. Were you prepared to be half naked in front of him? 

Yes.

Though your stomach was twisted up with knots, you were fairly certain you’d take it all the way and strip out of your clothes completely if you lost. Whatever brought you closer to that edge you two were dangerously close to. 

Without breaking eye contact with you or looking down at the cards in his hands, Captain Price laid three cards down one by one and you did the same. Only when you flipped your last card over did you finally let your gaze fall from his face to the table. You watched his fingers slowly turn over his fourth card and the nervous tension inside you spiked so suddenly, your pulse tripled. 

A six and a jack.

You lost.

Only two more rounds like this and you were going to lose the entire game…and your clothes.

Though your legs were trembling, you put your hands down on the table and pushed yourself to your feet. Price never let his gaze fall from you, his eyes focused solely on your face even when you hooked your thumbs beneath the elastic waist of your shorts. 

Slowly, you pushed them down over the swell of your hips and ass, not letting them fall until they reached your knees. And once the material was pooled around your feet, you kicked them to the pile you’d started near the couch. 

As you lowered back into your chair, Price cleared his throat and dropped his attention to his cards, shifting his hips to adjust his seat. You swiped your stack of cards from the table and straightened them neatly, never taking your eyes off of him. 

The other day when you caught him staring at your ass, you’d noticed a slight tinge of pink to his cheeks…but now, he was blushing right to his hairline. It shouldn’t have delighted you so much, but you found yourself unable to keep the grin off your face. You ducked your head to hide it and crossed your legs at the knee once again.

“So,” you said, not looking up but noticing he glanced up at you. “Have you decided what I’ll get if I win?”

“I think it’d be the other way around, princess.” His voice had gone softer, deeper and your eyes nearly rolled back in your head at the sound. 

“Okay, then what do you want?”

Please say me…please say me… Your thoughts almost left you breathless and despite wanting nothing more than to make him beg on his knees, you were on the verge of beginning him to give you what you wanted. Price blinked and laid down a card. You did the same and though you won the round, you barely noticed.

The game no longer mattered.

It was just a means to get you naked and in his arms at this point—win or lose. 

He collected the cards, shoved them to the bottom of his small stack, and glanced up at you quickly. “Haven’t decided yet.”

You scoffed. “Liar.”

Another round, another loss for you.

He was dangerously low on cards.

You were dangerously close to losing.

“Tell me,” you insisted, losing yet another round. He had to be cheating. If you weren’t so blinded by your arousal, you might have cared.

“If I win,” he started, laying down a king of hearts. He had four cards left and you had nearly the entire damn deck. “I want my hat back.”

“That’s not going to happen—”

His eyes met yours over the table and the look of darkness behind them snapped your mouth shut. You felt as if he’d lit you on fire with just a single stare, stealing your breath away and making you tremble. 

“Then I’ll take it from you.”

Swallowing tightly, you ducked your head and stared at the back of the card on top of your deck. You slowly turned it over and your eyes went wide. A king.

The face on the front blurred in and out of focus and you set it down next to his matching card. This was it. 

All or nothing.

If he won, you’d have to both take your shirt off and potentially fight him for his hat back. But you could win. And he’d have to take his pants off. There’s no way you were going to let him go the easy way out with a sock or something. 

You laid your three cards down first and Price did the same, holding his last card so you couldn’t see what it was. You glanced at yours and nearly laughed out loud. A four of spades. You were so going to lose. 

“Wait.” Before you could drop it face down, Price reached out and curled his hand around your wrist. In an instant, you looked up at him and held your breath. He stared at you, lips pressed into a line as he breathed deeply. “I don’t think either of us are prepared for what might happen if you lay that card down.”

“I have a pretty good idea what might happen.”

“What you think might happen, can’t .”

Silence fell as quickly as the rain still pouring outside and you stared at him, unblinking, frozen to your chair. You forgot how to breathe, how to even think . All you could do was watch as Captain Price dropped his gaze to the card in your hand. He plucked it out of your fingers and laid it face down on top of the pile sitting in the middle. 

“Don’t—”

The word barely left your lips before he swiped them all into his hand, mixing your four of spades in with the others. He stacked them and released your wrist, taking the deck you’d been building as you lost the game. You sat back in the chair, stunned, pissed, and suddenly cold. 

The game was over and neither of you won or lost.

But you still felt like a loser.

A sore one at that.

“Why did you do that?”

“You know why, princess,” was all he said before he stood from the chair and snatched his shirt from the couch. He slipped it on and quickly, not bothering to even straighten it around his waist and you stared at the bunched fabric that didn’t quite reach his jeans on the side. 

“And you called me a sore loser,” you said quietly, scoffing with a roll of your eyes. “You’re a sore winner, which is even worse.”

With a sudden anger fueling you, filling you with a different kind of fire—the kind you didn’t particularly care for—you stood from the chair and snatched your shorts and bra from the floor before stomping through the living room. You passed by him and glared, hoping he could feel the daggers behind your eyes. 

As you tried to leave him in the living room, Captain Price snatched you by the elbow and whirled you back around. A breath was sucked from your throat and your bra hit the floor by your feet. You barely managed to put a hand to his chest to stop your body from slamming into his when he reached for the hat on your head. 

You were quicker than he bargained for and ducked away from his hand, using your free hand to rip it off your head and hold it as far away as you could. 

“I’m done playing games, princess. Give it back.”

“Take it back.”

Price stared down at you, his fingers flexing around your elbow tightly—almost enough to make you wince—and in a flash, he pulled you even closer. Your chest pressed into his and as he easily grabbed your wrist, nearly snatching the hat away, you screamed.

“Why are you being such a dick?”

“Why are you acting like a brat?”

You squeezed your eyes shut as his hand grabbed the rim of his hat and jerked it out of your grasp. As soon as it was free, he released his hold on you and you stumbled away, whirling around to face him. 

His chest rose and fell with each ragged breath and you hated how turned on you were by the sight of him. The anger still coursing through you, both from him stopping your game and seeing his hat back in his possession, eclipsed your arousal. Before you could scream and tell him how much of an asshole he was, Captain Price spoke first.

“You’re my responsibility, princess. All I can be to you is your bodyguard. I can’t give you what you think you want.”

“Can’t? Or won’t ?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Both.”

“Even if you want it too?”

You watched his throat clench as he swallowed, his voice lowering into a whisper. “Especially because I want it too.”

Electric jolts of heat and delight raced through your veins. You cursed them. What did arousal matter now? Now that he’d rejected you loud and clear.

“Whatever.” 

You spun on your heel and didn’t stop until you were back in your room. And while it felt good to slam the door and hear it crack against the frame, it did little to ease the anger inside you. You wanted to scream, throw something, and worst of all…you wanted to cry. Not because you were mad you didn’t get fucked, but because the rejection hurt worse than you’d been expecting it to. 

Even knowing he wanted you as much as you wanted him, you still could barely breathe through the sting at the center of your chest.

It made it hard to breathe and you rolled your eyes at your reaction to the situation. 

This was so stupid. 

You didn’t know him.

You were just attracted to him and his body.

And his voice.

And how tender he was when you had been hurt.

And that little pout of his lips when he was pissed at you for teasing him.

You pressed your palms into your eyes until stars exploded through the black and took a deep breath, flopping back on the bed. When you let your hands fall to your side, you stared up at the ceiling and listened as the rain finally slack off.

---

 

Notes:

I'm only a LITTLE sorry about this chapter...but mostly because I will be posting the next one ASAP...as in like...an hour lol. And I think it'll make up for this one *devious little grin*
This chapter and the next were supposed to be one but it was already ten pages and...yeah, I like to be a total, cruel tease lol. But don't worry, chapter 12 will be posted today.

Chapter 12: Closer

Notes:

Yeahhhhhhh this ALMOST didn't happen....I ALMOST cut it off halfway again......but god, I needed this and so do reader and Price. Enjoy!! Oh, and this chapter was inspired by the amazing Closer by Nine Inch Nails if you wanna give that a listen ;)

---

It had to be close to midnight and you were pretty sure Price had gone to bed. You’d heard him shut the front door and lock it shortly after your fight in the living room, the lights were off, and he’d been quiet for the past forty-five minutes. And still, you sat on the edge of the bed, hating the bad taste lingering on the back of your tongue. 

That whole fight had been so stupid.

Not to mention you’d lost both games and for some reason, you actually missed having his hat in your possession. So many times over the past two and a half weeks, you’d had it with you and smiled anytime you looked at it. 

But that was over.

And you had nothing to do but dwell in this shitty situation once again.

Your eyes slid to the dark strip beneath the door. You hadn’t even bothered to turn on the light when you stormed into the room earlier and you sat in the darkness now. Without even a sliver of light, you were sure Price was on the couch asleep.

Or maybe he was sitting there, staring up at the ceiling with regret, hating how stupid all of this was like you.

You hated leaving things the way you had. Even if he couldn’t give you what you wanted, or give in to what he wanted as well, the thought of waking up tomorrow morning and pretending all of this had never happened felt wrong. With a sigh, you glanced to the window across the room and sighed at the darkness around the curtains. 

There was no telling what time it was.

Couldn’t have been too early, but he still had your phone. 

You didn’t even care or want it back. 

What you wanted was to apologize to Price. Apologize for being a bitch, for trying to seduce him, for overreacting when he put a stop to it all. 

You may have been a spoiled brat, but you were mature enough to admit when you might have been in the wrong and out of line. 

Or maybe you just wanted to see him again, even if he was asleep. You wanted to know he was still there because without his hat in the same room or on your head, he felt twice as far away and you were surprised by how miserable that made you feel. 

You stood from the bed and hesitated, a million reasons why you should just go back to bed and forget this happened filling your head. Each of them were perfectly valid reasons and you knew it would be smart to listen to them and apologize in the morning. 

Instead, you twisted the doorknob and slipped out into the darkness of the hallway. The quiet was almost deafening and you missed the sound of the rain. It had faded into a drizzle by now, barely enough to make a noise at all. You crept around the corner and squinted in the darkness toward the couch.

You could just make out the edges of the furniture, the arm of the couch, the table you’d sat at with him earlier, the lamp in the corner…and a familiar shape laying on the cushions. Seeing him there, possibly asleep, instantly made you want to smile but you took a deep breath to steady yourself and leaned a shoulder against the wall leading into the living room.

“Price,” you whispered, instantly regretting the sound of your voice. If he was asleep, you didn’t want to piss him off by disturbing him. Wincing, you took a step back and wanted to just disappear back into your bedroom. 

“What?”

His response surprised you and you flinched. Was it too late to pretend you were sleepwalking?

“Are you awake?”

You almost smacked yourself in the face for asking it.

“Yes.” Price moved and you watched the shadow of him sit up on the couch. He scrubbed a palm over his face and sighed. “What’s wrong?”

Well, there was no turning back now. You’d backed yourself into a corner and the only way to get out was to just get this over with. After all, this was what you wanted. Be the bigger person and apologize and all that.

Hesitantly, you moved into the living area, stepping onto the rug that’d seen better days. Your toes dug into the fabric and you cleared your throat and tucked your hair behind your ear. “Nothing’s wrong, I just—” You swallowed the words and looked away. Even in the darkness of the room, his gaze pierced through you and nearly stole your breath. “I wanted to apologize.”

“For what?”

Was he seriously going to make you say it? You rolled your eyes and took another step. You weren’t quite arm’s length away from him but you were close enough now that you could see him better in the shadows. He sat leaning forward, legs spread and elbows resting on his knees. As you stared down at him, you realized that he’d changed clothes…

The jeans he’d been wearing were replaced with sweatpants and he’d taken his shirt off. 

You were thankful for the darkness that hid your immediate blush and how wide your eyes were. Price peered up at you, waiting for your explanation and you shifted nervously from one foot to the other. 

“For being a bitch. But not just tonight…I’ve been a bitch to you since we first met and you don’t deserve that. Truce?”

“I don’t think you’re a bitch.”

“You called me a brat.”

“Because you are a brat.” Price stood from the couch and the room felt twice as smaller around you now. It was so easy to forget just how big his presence was until he was right in front of you. “But I should apologize as well.”

You were having trouble remembering how to speak and when he took a small step toward you, your eyes nearly fluttered shut. You kept them open and looked up at him. “For what?”

“A lot. I haven’t been the nicest person and I shouldn’t have taken the hat back.”

The corner of your lip lifted in a small smile. “It’s your hat.”

Price took a deep breath that expanded his chest a bit, drawing your gaze down to it and you almost didn’t hear him respond.

“Yeah but I like it better on you.”

“Oh.”

So caught up in how close and shirtless he was, you almost hadn’t noticed the tension creeping in and settling around you like a mist. The heat from your card game had been extinguished so suddenly that you thought it’d never come back…but it was unmistakable now. 

It climbed through you, prickling every inch of your bare legs, reminding you that you’d never put your shorts back on after the game had ended. Though you didn’t want to take your eyes off of him, your gaze slid to the table beneath the window and your tongue darted out to wet your suddenly dry lips. 

“Price,” you whispered, taking a small step forward. From here, you could have easily reached out and touched his chest. Your fingers twitched at your sides, begging for permission. 

“Yes, princess?”

The back of your knees went weak and your eyes fluttered closed, the sound of his voice sinking through you, burning you from the inside. Your stomach clenched with a desire that settled between your thighs and again, you inched closer to him. So close you could feel the body heat radiating off of his chest. 

You tilted your head back to peer up at him through your lashes and found his gaze dark and full of the same desire pulsing through you. There were so many things racing through your head that you were dying to know. Was he unbearably turned on as well? Was he dying to touch you? But most of all, you wanted to know…

“What was your last card?”

He seemed surprised by your question and blinked. After a moment, he spoke, his voice a whisper that you could almost physically feel. “Nine.”

A smile curled your lips. He would have won.

Your fingers that had been itching to touch him slid up your hips to where the waist of your t-shirt ended. They curled beneath the fabric and you searched his gaze for any sign that he was going to stop you again. You didn’t think you could handle rejection twice in the same night, but even with the shadows clinging to everything in the room, you saw nothing but want in his stare. Not waiting for him to stop you, you pulled the material of your shirt up the length of your torso and over your head.

The cool air hit your skin, rippling across your flesh and leaving goosebumps in its wake but you barely felt anything aside from the steam of your desire clinging to your body. Price stared down at you, his eyes never leaving yours despite being almost completely naked in front of him. 

Though your voice wanted to hide away and watch from the shadows, you managed to conjure it up enough to whisper. “You never told me what you wanted if you won.”

This time, there was no hesitation. 

Price’s hand found your face in the dark, his fingers sliding along your jaw before curling around the back of your neck. He pulled you into him as he stepped closer, your breasts pressing into his bare chest as his lips met yours. Though you had been hoping for it—begging for it—his kiss still caught you off guard and you sucked in a breath of surprise.

He didn’t wait for you to catch up.

As you tried to overcome the initial shock of feeling his lips on yours, Price tilted his head to the side and slid his other hand around your waist, fingertips digging into your flesh. He kissed you as though he’d been waiting to taste you since the moment he met you and you realized you’d been waiting for the same thing. 

It was better than anything you’d ever fantasized about.

The hand against your jaw slid down to your throat and his thumb gently pressed the spot where your pulse raced as his fingers tightened just enough to coax a moan from you. Price drank it in, parting your lips with his and you felt the slick heat of his tongue touch yours. Though your eyes were closed, they rolled back in your head and your knees trembled with a weakness that made you reach for his waist to steady yourself.

Without breaking the kiss, Price dipped low and scooped you off the floor. As soon as your toes left the rug, you wrapped your legs around his waist and he dropped his hand from your throat to your waist. He took a few steps but you didn’t care where he was taking you right then. All you wanted was to feel him kiss and touch and fuck you. 

It wasn’t until he lowered you down onto the couch that you realized you’d been falling. Price centered himself between your thighs and held himself up with one arm, his lips falling away from yours. Before you could protest, he pushed his hips into your center and you cried out from the sudden burst of pleasure. Though there was only the thin strip of your panties and his sweatpants between you, you could feel the hard length of his cock. 

Everything about him was exceeding your expectations and you were left dizzy. Never would you have imagined he could kiss you like he had or make you feel like you were already so close to tumbling over that edge.

Again, he rolled his hips into you and kissed his way down the length of your neck, sucking at the sensitive flesh just above your collarbone. 

The soft brush of his fingers along the stretch of skin beneath your breast arched your back and pulled a trembling breath from your lungs. “Price,” you whispered, raking your nails through the back of his hair.

He slipped lower, pressing warm kisses to your chest, pausing to taste your skin as he went. When he found your breast beneath his lips, he murmured against the soft flesh. “John.”

You frowned. “What?”

“My name is John.”

Oh…

He gave you no time to repeat it. His lips covered your nipple and you couldn’t swallow your moan down before it slipped out. The expert, teasing swirl of his tongue was enough to nearly drive you mad with need. You dropped your head back onto the couch and arched into his mouth. If he could make you feel like this with just his tongue on your nipple…

Price tilted his head back to look up at you and while you could feel his gaze on your face, you were too caught up in how good his mouth felt. His lips left your nipple but his thumb took over, tracing the hardened bud enough to make you squirm. 

“I heard you that day.” His words were quiet but you’d heard them loud in your ears and your eyes snapped open. The heat of embarrassment flooded your face. “In your bedroom. You were touching yourself, weren’t you?”

You whimpered as his hand slid from your breast to your waist, tracing the line of your torso down to the elastic band of your panties. All you could do was nod.

“Tell me, princess,” he whispered against the center of your chest. “Were you thinking about me?”

“Yes.” The word was nothing but a breath on your lips. 

“Good. Because I think about you when I touch myself as well.” The warmth of his mouth at your belly button curled your toes and you swallowed tightly. “I think about kissing you…tasting you…” He dragged his tongue across your skin and your eyes rolled. “And fucking you.”

Was it possible to orgasm just from someone’s voice? You weren’t sure, but you were close and if he kept talking to you like this, you were going to find out. 

Price brushed the back of his fingers against your thigh, urging them to part as he slid to the end of the couch and positioned himself between your knees. He curled his fingers around the edge of your panties, right where your thigh and hip met, and traced the skin there. A shiver raced over your body and you whimpered, pushing your hips up into his touch. He was too slow and you were too needy to be playing these games. 

“Please,” you whimpered.

The sound of his laugh, soft and deep and wicked snapped your eyes open. 

“I thought you were the one going to make me beg, princess.”

Ugh, he was a dick.

Throwing your words back in your face when he knew you were practically dying for him to touch you. Total dick move.

But you wanted him too badly to care.

“Please,” you urged again, trying to push your hips into his touch. “Just touch me, please.”

“I’d prefer to taste you.”

You whimpered and raked your fingers through your hair. 

When his fingers pulled the fabric of your panties, sliding them down your thighs, down to your knees, and finally letting them fall away from your feet, a soft sigh of satisfaction left his lips. Price pushed your knees apart once again and slid off the couch and onto his knees on the floor. He draped one of your legs over his shoulder. 

You trembled from the top of your head to your toes, mouth open though no sound came out, and your eyes fluttering shut in exquisite anticipation. He took his time, kissing his way up your thigh, pausing every few inches to nip and suck at your flesh and under any other circumstance, the brush of his beard would have tickled you. But your mind was completely blind to anything that might slow him down.

You curled one hand into your hair while the other gripped the cushion beneath you and when Price’s mouth found your center, you nearly came off the couch altogether. He slid his tongue slowly between your slit, tasting every inch of your slick pussy until he reached your clit. A moan slipped past your lips and he made a similar sound of pleasure. 

His hand gripped your thigh and pushed your legs further apart, opening you as wide as you could go as he sucked your clit into his lips. When you gasped, his tongue flattened and lapped at you, swirling it in slow circles to draw you closer to the edge. Your grip on the couch released and you raked your fingers through the back of his hair, gasping and whimpering, making noises no man had ever driven you to make before in your life.

Price was different.

He was good…almost too good. You clamped your teeth around your bottom lip, biting it hard to make sure you weren’t dreaming. Thankfully, when you opened your eyes, you were still on the couch and his mouth was still on your pussy. 

But you didn’t know how much longer you could last. The way he sucked and licked was exactly how you would beg for it and you could feel that familiar coil of heat tighten inside you. 

Your fingers tightened their hold on his hair and he slid his hand away from your trembling thigh only to position it between your folds. His middle fingers pushed into you, stretching you around them, and you cried out. Your back arched off the couch and you bucked your hips against his mouth, grinding into his tongue. 

Price curled his fingers inside you, stroking you from the inside while sucking your clit, and you couldn’t hold on even if you tried. It felt too good. He was too good. And you were powerless to stop your orgasm from unraveling within you. 

With strangled, panting cries, you came, the waves of your orgasm pulsing with every stroke of his fingers and lap of his tongue. Even as your sensitivity heightened, Price didn’t stop. He drank you in relentlessly, savoring the taste of you, and you cried out as you tried to twist away from him. 

He pulled away but kept his fingers inside you, stroking you through the intensity and your thighs came together so fast, they clapped. 

“Please,” you begged. “I—I can’t t-take it!”

“Yes, you can,” he said, standing to his feet while his fingers never slipped out of you. His free hand found your arm and as his fingers finally slid out of your pussy, he pulled you to your feet. You barely managed to take a breath when his lips covered your own. He kissed you so you could taste yourself on his tongue. When he pulled away, you were thankful he still had a grip on your arm. If he hadn’t, you’d have melted into a puddle at his feet. 

Price ducked his head to meet your gaze and you tilted your head back to look up at him. He curled his hand around your neck and pulled you toward him to kiss your forehead. Before you could swoon from the sweetness, he used his thumb beneath your chin to force you to look up at him. “I’m going to fuck you now, princess.”

Your eyes went wide but you didn’t protest. Only an act of god would stop you from getting what you wanted now.

Price turned you until his back was to the couch and as he sat down, he pulled you toward him. His hands slid to your thighs, guiding you onto his lap and your knees slid over the cushions of the couch until your chest was flush against yours. Even in the darkness, you could see the rise and fall of his chest with every breath and you sat back on his thighs.

You moved before he did, slipping your hands between your body and his to find the waistband of his sweatpants. Price helped you push them down far enough that his cock could be freed and your mouth watered at the sight. Had he not put you on his lap, you’d have dropped to your knees to taste him. 

It was bigger than anything you’d experienced and while you were a bit intimidated by the size of it, you weren’t afraid. Just looking at it had you dripping down the inside of your thighs again and you curled your fingers around his cock, stroking your thumb over the tip. His breath hitched and you glanced up at him, really wishing you could taste him.

He had other plans. 

Price gripped your waist and lifted you off his lap, using one hand to position himself beneath you. As he eased you down onto his cock, you heard him curse beneath his breath. It was drowned out by your own gasp and moan as he stretched you around him. Price watched you, his eyes full of a darkness that made you tremble. 

You gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin but he barely noticed. 

He was too focused on you and you were focused on how good he felt inside you.

Was it supposed to feel this good? Like he was made for you? 

Once he was completely sheathed inside you, he let you sit for a moment to adjust. He smoothed the hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear and you leaned into his touch but your body was begging for you to move.

Price’s hand settled at the base of your throat while the other dropped to your hips. His grip there was tight—almost bruising—and you let him guide you, rocking your hips slowly over his. He didn’t seem to mind how slow you were going but you wanted more. Needed more. 

You pressed a hand to his chest and bit your lip to keep from crying out. You weren’t even really moving yet and you already felt as if you were going to come undone. So caught up in how fucking good his cock felt inside you, you hadn’t realized his other hand had found its way to your hips and Price lifted you almost completely off of him before bringing you back down. 

Every inch pulled a different sound from you and he seemed to like each one of them. His lips stretched into a grin and he did the same as he had before, lifting you and bringing you back down onto him—like his personal fuck toy.

“Is this what you want, princess?”

You were quick to nod.

God, you’d never wanted anything like you wanted this.

It was no longer a want.

It was a need.

He thrust into you again, and again, pounding hard each time. 

“Look at me.”

You hadn’t even realized your eyes were closed until you opened them and met his gaze. He fucked you harder as you looked down at him, alternating between grinding and thrusting into you, stretching you around him each time. Every time he buried his cock into you, a whimper escaped your lips and you weren’t sure if you’d last much longer.

When he slid his hand between you, the pad of his thumb catching your clit, you let your head fall back and bucked your hips into his touch. As he swirled it around the already sensitive nub, your mouth opened though no sound came out. Price thrust harder and the circles he made over your clit kept up the rhythm. 

Oh, fuck …

You could feel a pull of heat behind your navel but you didn’t want to let go just yet. Not when it still felt so good to be fucked by him. You reached out and put your hands on his chest, shifting your hips to angle them just right. From here, every thrust pushed his cock back and forth over that spot deep inside you that would make you come. 

You were panting as he fucked you harder, sweat gathering where your bodies met. Price pulled his hand away and gripped your hips again, grinding them against him as he slammed into you. His own breath was growing ragged and you wondered just how close he was. Knowing he was on the verge of losing control pushed you closer and closer and your body tensed above him.

You couldn’t hold on.

He pulled out and pushed back inside you and that was all it took. 

You gasped and shut your eyes, your entire body tense and quivering as you came hard around his cock. A strangled cry fell from your lips and you dropped your head to Price’s shoulder, panting into his heated flesh. He put a hand on the back of your head and groaned deep, keeping you against him as he fucked you harder with the waves of your orgasm pulsing around him.

He cursed under his breath, his movements growing a bit erratic and you smiled, knowing he was close now. You turned your head toward his and pressed a kiss against his jaw. 

“Come for me,” you whispered.

Price’s hands tightened on your hip and in your hair and he whimpered. Fuck, you loved the sound of it. 

“Come for me, Captain.”

“Fuck…” The single word was drawn out as he moaned it and with a few final thrusts inside you, his breath hitched. As he buried himself as deep as he could go, he let his head fall back against the couch and came. His cock pulsed inside you, spilling hot and wet and you loved every second of it. 

You rocked your hips over him gently as he continued to come. You felt breathless and dazed—as if you were riding a high you never wanted to come down from. You sat up just a bit and lifted a hand, raking your fingernails over his bearded jaw and Price pulled you closer. He kissed you hungrily but you could taste a tenderness in it that you hadn’t noticed before.  

As you pulled away, he brushed your hair away from your face and opened his mouth. 

But whatever he was about to say was instantly silenced by the sound of a phone ringing. The shrill ringtone echoed through the room and you sucked in a breath, whipping your head to where Price’s phone sat on the small end table next to the couch.

“Shit,” he hissed, reaching over to snatch it up. You’d barely gotten a glance of it before he gently pushed you off of him. He slid out of you, ignoring the sweat and other bodily fluids that you’d shared, and stood to his feet as you landed on the couch next to him. 

He didn’t say anything as he answered the phone and whoever was on the other end of the call didn’t need him to. You could hear a muffled voice and though you couldn’t make out what they were saying, dread sank through you. 

As Price stepped away, crossing into the kitchen for a bit of privacy, you snatched your panties from where he’d tossed them onto the floor and slid into them. As you stood and grimaced a little at the rush of warmth that seeped down your thigh, you found your shirt and held it against your chest.

“Yes,” Price said. “I will.”

And with that, he ended the call. For a moment, he stood between the living room and the kitchen, staring down at the phone in his hands. You swallowed tightly and put a hand to your chest, the racing beat of your heart pounding against your palm.

“What’s wrong?”

He took a breath and let it out with a heavy sigh before turning to face you. “That was your father’s assistant.”

Martin…oh, no.

That sense of dread sinking through you was heavy as a boulder now and you held your breath, waiting for Price to keep going. 

“Your father was attacked.”

---

 

Chapter 13: Hangover

Notes:

You have the world's worst hangover and Price has plans that you really don't want to take part in.

---

The ringing in your ears drowned out anything Price might have said after that and you blinked slowly. This had to be a nightmare. But it felt too real. Dizziness swam in your head, your stomach dropped to the floor, and there was a distinct kind of soreness between your thighs that told you everything that had happened tonight was very real.

Price took a step forward, his mouth moving though you hadn't heard his question. You clutched your shirt to your chest and shook your head.

From the moment your father told you that you'd be whisked away to a safe house with a bodyguard to protect you because people were after him, none of it felt real. It felt like a joke or a stupid precaution that would never actually amount to anything because this kind of thing only happens in the movies. 

You managed to find your voice as Price stepped up to you, putting a hand out to grip your elbow. A frown darkened his face and you wondered how pale you'd gone to warrant this reaction from him. Was he worried you'd pass out? 

You shook your head and tried to swallow though your mouth had gone dry as a desert. "Is…Is he alright?"

The question left you sick to your stomach. If he wasn't alright, you didn't know what you were going to do. You'd never been too terribly close to your father but you loved him and missed him so much at that moment, your heart wrenched tightly in your chest. 

"Apparently he was shot in the shoulder. But he's alright."

You were going to puke. Your father had been shot and you were in this cabin, seducing your bodyguard and fucking him on his couch. The hand that came to cover your lips was trembling and warm and you realized it was your own hand as you peered up at the man beside you. 

"What do we do?" You asked, trying not to let the panic bubbling inside you boil over but it felt dangerously close to it. "Did they kill the guy who did it?"

Price sighed and dropped his hand away from your elbow, taking a step back to rake his fingers through his hair. "No. They're moving your father to another secure location—"

"Because that helped so much the first time. What if they come for him again or us?"

Oh yeah, you were panicking. 

Your legs shook for an entirely different reason than why you'd prefer them to be trembling and the need to puke hadn't exactly faded yet. Any more bad news and you were going to vomit all over Price's pathetic rug at your feet. 

"I won't let anything happen to you, princess."

Had you not been teetering on the verge of the world's worst panic attack, you might have swooned at that. As it were, you barely registered his words. "How will you stop it? My dad has a team of guards and still got shot! All we have is—is this cabin and I'm sure you're very good at whatever it is you do—I don't mean to offend you—"

"Maybe you should get dressed."

You ignored him and continued rambling. "But you're just one guy. Are you even capable of taking on terrorists or whatever if they attack us? I don't want to die—"

Price moved in front of you, taking you by the shoulders. The pressure of his fingers around your arms triggered you to take a breath and you blinked up at him with a gasp. 

"You're not going to die. No one knows our location except your father. No one even knows you're with me." He ducked his head to level his gaze with yours. "I may be one man but I'm very capable of keeping you alive and safe, princess."

You searched his eyes, appreciating his strength and calm but you couldn’t find anything to help you feel the same. You felt just as helpless and hopeless as you had the day you stood in your father’s office. The day all this shit came crashing down on you. A dull ache began to throb behind your eyes and you frowned.

Price straightened to his full height but didn’t take his hands away from your bare arms, reminding you that the shirt you clutched to your chest was barely covering your tits. You glanced down at yourself in nothing but your panties, sore, still wet, and trembling. 

Pathetic.

Bringing your hand to your face, you pinched the bridge of your nose and took a deep breath, your eyes lifting to meet Price’s narrowed gaze. 

“We had sex.”

Any other time, seeing his eyes go a bit wide would have made you laugh, but there was very little humor to be found inside you and even less to be found on his face. Again, he raked his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath, turning his head away from you. 

“I know.”

“We had sex and my father got shot.”

“It was a mistake.”

Ah, there it was. The slap in the face that you feared would happen but still weren’t prepared for. For a moment, you simply stared up at him as he did everything he could to not look at you. His gaze settled on something across the room in the kitchen and you fought the urge to shove him with all your strength. 

But you had no strength left. 

He had taken most of it on the couch and the phone call sucked the rest of it out of you. 

Your shoulders sagged in defeat and all you could do was slip your t-shirt over your head, not bothering to even pull it down over your waist. You held your hand out to him, shook the hair from your face, and took a deep breath.

“Right. Well, can I have my phone? I kind of just want to listen to some music and drink myself to sleep.” That bottle of whisky you’d confiscated from him several days ago was still in your room, still sitting on the floor near the bed and it was practically screaming for you to drink the rest of it. 

At first, Price didn’t move. He stared into the darkness of the kitchen and the facial hair covering his jaw couldn’t hide how hard he clenched it. There was more he wanted to say but you knew he wouldn’t. 

Letting a breath out through his nose, he moved behind you to the table near the couch. It didn’t take him long to find your cell phone in his bag and he dropped it into your hand. As soon as it touched your palm, you left him standing there in the living room. And though with each step you took away from him, you were silently begging for him to call you back, to apologize and hold you because fuck , you needed a hug like you needed oxygen right then, he never said a word.

He let you walk away and as you slipped quietly into the darkness of your bedroom, your eyes burned with tears of frustration.

---

The soft knock at your door sounded like hammers pounding against your skull and you groaned, fumbling for the pillow beneath your head. Or, the pillow that was supposed to be under your head. It was currently nowhere to be found and that probably had more to do with the fact that you were lying face down on the foot of the bed than anything else. 

In fact, with a shift of your foot, you could feel the soft, plushy pillow you’d been searching for. It slipped off the edge of the bed and you groaned again.

Another three knocks at your door echoed far too loudly in your head and you pressed your hand to your ear. Who the hell was waking you up this early? Was the sun even up?

Of course, you knew the answer to that because the light was streaming in through the window and nearly blinding you. But shifting your head away would only hurt worse and the knocking had already done a number on you. 

“Huh?”

The word slurred from your mouth and as soon as you hear it, memories of the previous night flooded through your head so fast, you groaned in pain. The card game, the fight, the apology…the couch fucking, and the call. All of it was there in your head, flashing like the most fucked up PowerPoint, all equipped with transition animations.

You pulled your arm out from beneath you and grabbed your head, burying your face in your palm as you let out another groan. Fuck, drinking had been a really bad idea. 

Then again, maybe fucking your bodyguard had been a worse idea.

“If you don’t open the door,” a deep, growling voice spoke from the hallway and you winced. “I’m going to break it down.”

“Okay, okay,” you shifted your face away from your hand so he could actually hear you. “Just give me a minute for fuck’s sake.”

You’d need more than a minute. You were going to need probably an hour just to crawl out of the bed. Though every fiber of your being, every muscle and tendon, and ligament in your body screamed in protest, you rolled onto your side and pressed the heel of your palms into your eyes. 

The sun couldn’t seep in, thankfully, but the pressure only magnified the ache that radiated from your skull down to the rest of your body. Who knew drinking half a bottle of whisky could do this to you? 

Three more knocks, this time much, much louder, pounded at the door and you whimpered helplessly. He was giving you no time. Couldn’t he fucking hear how miserable you were? Was this his way to get back at you for seducing him? 

It hadn’t taken much. All you had to do was show him your tits and he was grabbing you, kissing you, tearing your panties off of your body. Fuck, even with the world’s worst hangover, the memory of his hands on your breasts, your hips, inside your pussy turned your legs to Jell-O and you shakily sat up on the bed. 

Standing was a chore and as you straightened and gripped the dresser in front of you to keep from face-planting right into it, pain bumped through your head with every beat of your heart. Fuck, you were never drinking again. Not whisky, anyway.

You took two steps and wrenched the door open, only realizing that you were still wearing only your panties and t-shirt once Captain Price’s face stared down at you. The bright morning sun made it nearly impossible for your eyes to open all the way and you squinted up at him, hoping and praying that you didn’t look half as shitty as you felt. 

“Is there a reason why you’re waking me up like this?”

“Yes.”

“Then why?” You breathed, leaning a shoulder against the door frame. 

“I’ve got to check the perimeter.”

Splendid. While he was traipsing through the woods, you could go back to sleep. Nodding, you gestured toward the hallway and started to push the door shut. “Right. Have fun.”

Price stuck his foot in the door’s path, stopping it abruptly, and you jumped, your eyes going wide and immediately regretting it. He didn’t notice your wince of pain—or if he did, he didn’t care. 

“You’re going with me, princess.”

Oh, you were princess again? You figured he’d stop calling you that and resort to something much more formal like ma’am or miss. You almost rolled your eyes but stopped yourself, having learned your lesson a moment ago. No more reactions with your eyes. They were already dry as fuck and aching enough. 

“No,” you laughed. “I’m going back to bed.”

You tried to shut the door but his stupid foot didn’t budge. You glared down at it between your own feet before tilting your head up to him. 

“Afraid not. I’m not letting you out of my sight after last night.”

Last night?

What did fucking have to do with—

Oh, yeah...you'd almost forgotten…

Your father had been shot, had been attacked by terrorists or assassins and your wanted status had probably shifted into the red. Price was all business and you could tell in just the way he looked, his jaw set, lips pursed, eyes stern, that he wasn’t going to let you talk your way out of this. 

“C’mon.”

“Can I at least get dressed? I don’t think running around the woods in my panties would be ideal.” You said it for the explicit purpose of flustering him and you’d just have to settle for the slight flare of his nostrils before he stepped back to let you shut the door. Except, you slammed it right in his face, getting your satisfaction from the sound.

For a few seconds, you stood by the door and listened for his footsteps moving away from the bedroom but either he was getting better at sneaking around the cabin or he was still standing where you’d left him. You sighed and snatched a pair of leggings from the pile of clothes near the bed.

A shower would have been nice, but you knew better than to ask him to wait. Of course, you could always tell him that his come was still inside you and you needed to wash it away. Now that would surely fluster him. The corner of your lips lifted slightly as you stepped into your leggings and pulled them all the way up to your belly button. 

As you put a hand down on the corner of the dresser to keep yourself standing, your hand knocked into your cell phone and you tapped the screen. Dead. 

Perfect.

You’d listened to the very few albums you had downloaded on repeat the night before and apparently had run the battery down doing so. You snatched it and a charger off the floor and plugged it into the nearest outlet beneath the window. Once the charging screen popped up, you set the device on the windowsill, slipped your feet into your sneakers, and crossed to the door.

With a deep breath, because you were definitely going to need to focus if you were going to be forced to be in his presence again, you opened the door and found him exactly as you’d left him.

Price took one look at you and stepped back on his heels to let you pass. 

The living area was brighter than the bedroom had been and you put a hand to your eyes with a groan. Though Price passed you and headed to the front door, you took a left and stopped at the fridge to grab the bottle of ibuprofen sitting on top of it. 

You shook four out into your hand, ducked your head beneath the sink faucet, and gulped in a mouthful of water. One after another until you were nearly gasping for breath and just before you could drown, you popped the pills in your mouth, took another gulp of water, and stood up. You swiped the back of your hand across your mouth and slowly turned to face Price.

You’d need about ten more ibuprofen to get through this, but four was a start.

He sighed, his irritation clearly evident in the sound and you followed behind him as he led the way out onto the porch. 

Nothing could have prepared you for how fucking bright it was.

After so much rain, not a single cloud had lingered behind and the sky was bright, crystal blue above the trees. 

You winced and put your hand over your eyes, ducking your head as much as you could to keep the sun from blinding you. “Fucking hell,” you grumbled. “Couldn’t we have done this at night?”

Price jogged down the steps ahead of you and called from over his shoulder. “Only if you want to be mauled by bears.”

“I want you to be mauled by bears,” you grumbled, scowling at his back.

Thankfully, the trees offered a bit of coverage from the sun but you were still mourning the lack of sunglasses when Price led you to the back of the cabin. An aging HVAC unit was nestled against the wooden siding and you could see a small hatch door against the underpinning. There was quite a lot of grass and shrubbery grown up around it but Price simply pushed the underbrush aside and turned to look at you from over his shoulder. 

You stared at him, face pinched from the sun despite the shade covering you and you brought both hands up to your forehead to shield your eyes from the light. 

“This,” he said, nodding to the door. “Leads under the cabin.”

“You don’t say.”

He ignored your sarcasm. “Under the rug in the living room is a hatch. If there’s a threat, I want you to be familiar with it.”

You didn’t like the sound of that. Just like the call last night about your father being shot, talking of escaping and threats made this situation feel too real and you could feel that unwanted panic start to prick at your chest. You took a deep breath and looked away from the door and Price. “I thought you said you were capable of keeping me safe.”

With a sigh, Price let go of the shrub and it swayed back into place, covering the small door at the back of the cabin. He dusted his hands off and folded his arms over his chest. “I am. But shit happens. I’d rather fight knowing you’re on your way to safety than have to cover you.”

Ugh. Why was he talking like this? Couldn’t he just tell you in the heat of the moment? 

From the corner of your eye, you glanced at him and wondered if you could just try to kiss him again to shut him up. If you were being honest with yourself, you’d be able to admit that you wanted to do that anyway. But you'd never admit that out loud or to yourself.

Even with a massive hangover and your stomach all in knots from nausea and worry, knowing exactly how it felt to kiss him was torture. Especially because you knew it’d probably never happen again. 

Which really sucked because he was too damn good at eating pussy—

“Now,” Price said, cutting through your thoughts just in time. Any more thoughts about Price going down on you and you were going to be miserable for a third reason. “There’s a trail that I’ve marked that you can find easily in the day but I want you to be able to recognize it in the dark.”

You shut your eyes and let your head fall back in misery. “Can I just be shot instead?”

Just as the words left your mouth, something lightweight but solid covered your face and you quickly snatched it away and blinked in surprise. No, not surprise. Absolute shock. 

The rim of Price’s precious bucket hat was clenched in your fist and you nearly stumbled on your own feet, though you hadn’t even taken a step. Was this another peace offering? You lifted your wide eyes from the hat to his face in time to see him roll his eyes. 

“It’ll keep the sun out of your eyes.” He pointed a finger beneath your chin and you blinked. “But I will be getting it back. Now come on.”

He didn’t wait for you to overcome your shock, traipsing through the tree line that surrounded the back of the cabin. For several seconds, all you could do was stand there and glance from his back to the hat in your hands. Slowly, you lifted it and set it on your head, pulling the rim down around your eyebrows and he was right. It did keep the sun out of your eyes.

You sniffed and didn’t know if you should thank him or not. It felt stupid to say anything now that so much time had passed. Pausing by one of the trees, Price turned to face you and gave a sharp whistle, nearly making you jump. 

“Get a move on,” he barked like you were his subordinate, and any hope that maybe—just maybe—he was flirting was dashed. 

As you stomped through brambles of briars, dead twigs and leaves, and various plants you’d never be able to recognize, you stared at Captain Price waiting for you just ahead. The look on his face was passive, if not a little irritated, and while you would initially assume he was back to being the grumpy, insufferable man you knew him as when you first met, you’d been around him long enough now to realize he was trying way too hard. It was in the way he stared at you like he was struggling to keep his gaze on your face or the line he pressed his lips into and not to mention the hat.

The hat that was once the object of a heated game of hide and seek that led to one of the hottest nights of your life—except for that phone call, of course—and was now back in your possession. As you stepped closer, you reached up to where the strings danged beneath your chin and looked up at Captain Price. 

For just a split second, his effort to keep his gaze focused on yours faltered, and you watched his eyes flicker down to your lips before quickly cutting away. The corner of your lips lifted and secured the hat to your head, tightening the strings under your jaw. He may have said last night was a mistake, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t enjoyed every minute of it and if he thought you were just going to forget it ever happened and go back to the way things were, he was sorely mistaken.

---

 

Chapter 14: Target Practice

Notes:

Price teaches you a few things and you have a realization.

---

Every three or four trees, small solar lights were wedged into the bark. They resembled the kind that people put in their yards near their porches or walkways but smaller. In the daylight, you could see the black solar panel on the top and the plastic light inside. But you knew that in the dark, you’d never be able to notice them.

Captain Price explained that they didn’t give off much light and would practically be impossible to notice unless you knew they were there. Which was why he pointed out each and every one of them you passed on your trek down the escape trail through the woods. 

Not like you’d ever remember which trees had them if there was a real emergency, but you humored him and appreciated the information in the event that shit hit the fan. More so than it already had, of course.

But you were exhausted, those four ibuprofens were trying their hardest to fight the headache pounding your skull, and if another briar snagged on your good leggings one more time, you were going to scream. Not to mention, sweat was building up beneath your pits and he hadn’t exactly given you any time to put on deodorant before he rushed you out of the cabin.

By the time Price crested a small ridge ahead, you were struggling to hide how hard you were breathing and your side was hurting from your journey. You put a hand to a nearby tree and glanced back the way you’d come. The cabin was far down the hillside, almost completely hidden behind the millions of trees and bushes but you could see the corner of the roof through the leaves…or was that just a branch?

You had no idea how far he’d taken you into the woods. All you knew was that you were severely out of shape but he had barely broken a sweat. 

Bastard.

As you moved beside him on the ridge, staring down at—you guessed it— more woods, you sucked in a deep breath and refused to let yourself bend over to puke. Though that’s exactly what you wanted to do. 

“Once you’re over this ridge, head south and you’ll find the highway.”

“South,” you breathed with a nod, absently pointing in the direction you were facing. “Got it.”

Price pointed to the right and you squinted at the tip of his finger. “ That’s south.”

“Well, it’d be easier if I had a compass or something. How am I supposed to know where south is?”

He ignored you and reached behind his back. “Have you ever fired a gun?”

Your eyes went wide at the sight of the pistol he pulled out of some hidden holster at his back. It was bigger than you’d expect a gun to be though you didn’t have much experience with them. In fact, the only experience you had with them was playing video games with your friends when you were younger.

“Um,” your eyes lifted to meet his and you swallowed. He popped the clip out and checked the chamber. “I took a semester of archery in college. Does that count?”

“Only if we were up against dragons or elves.” To your surprise, he flipped the gun over and pointed the handle at you though you made no move to take it. “It’s not loaded. But don’t point it at anything you don’t want to shoot.”

“I don’t want to shoot anything.”

He forced a tight smile and stepped closer, wrapping his fingers around your wrist before setting the handle of the weapon in your palm. It was heavy and bulky and your fingers didn’t quite reach all the way around it. Before you could slip your first finger around the trigger, Price positioned it right where the safety was located. 

“Never put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to fire.”

“You act like I should know these things despite never having held a gun before this moment.”

He laughed, the sound deep and raspy and if you weren’t holding a dangerous weapon, your knees might have gone weak. As it were, you locked them in place and dropped your gaze to where Price’s hand was still wrapped around your wrist. If he noticed the flush of heat on your face, he didn’t mention it.

“And you’re American? Figured you all were born with a gun in your hand.”

“Hah. So funny. I bet you’re the first person to ever make that joke.”

You could tell he was trying so hard not to smile but failed in the end. It curled the corners of his lips and you watched it reach his blue eyes. This time, you couldn’t stop your legs from going weak and you swallowed tightly, wishing he was closer. 

It was a mistake …

His voice from the night before echoed in your head, cutting right through your swooning like a knife and you cleared your throat. You tore your gaze away from him and blinked down at the gun, Price’s hand falling away from your wrist. 

“See that tree down there?” He pointed to where the land sloped downward and you stared up at him.

“We’re in the woods, Price. I see lots of trees.”

With an irritated sigh that almost made you laugh, Price used one hand to steer your shoulders so you were facing the right direction and pointed down the hillside. Following his finger, you spotted a tree that could be what he was talking about. It was wide at the base but had either been struck by lightning or was dead and rotting. Half of it had fallen to the forest floor and the half left standing was grey with strips of bark missing.

“The sad tree that looks half-dead?”

“Yes. I want you to aim at it.” 

You lifted your hand and pointed it in the direction but didn’t actively try to look through the sights. If the pistol even had sights. You were a novice, after all. Before you could give him some sarcastic comment, Price stepped behind you, his feet rustling through the broken limbs and brush. 

He brought his hand up to curl around your fingers still holding the gun, the length of his arm pressing warmly against yours and you sucked in a breath, holding it tight. Did he know what this was doing to you? Of course, he did. He had to know. 

You narrowed your eyes as a frown pinched your brows and tried to focus, tried to concentrate on anything but the feel of his body at your back. “Aim with your dominant hand and use your dominant eye.”

You had no idea which eye was your dominant eye, but you held the gun as he instructed and clamped your teeth over your bottom lip. 

“There’s a rear sight and a front sight. Line them up with one another on the tree.”

“Sh-should I close my other eye?”

When he responded, his voice was so close to your ear you nearly shivered. “Yes.” His breath was warm as it touched the back of your ear. “When you have your sights lined up with your target, keep your focus on the pistol. Do you have your target locked?”

“I… think I do.” 

God, it was so hard to focus on anything when he was right at your ear like that. You could barely breathe let alone focus on your target and remember what the hell he was telling you. With his hand still wrapped around yours, his finger pushed yours down to curl around the trigger, and never in a million fucking years would you have ever found something like this arousing. But here you were…hungover, head pounding, and turned on.

It was a mistake…

You squeezed your eyes shut, knowing that was probably the worst thing to do while holding a gun, but the memory of his words cut through more than your thoughts this time. It hurt. More than you’d care to admit. 

It hurt like those four little words had been a knife and cut you.

And the only way it could actually hurt was if this wasn’t just some stupid crush on a guy that was out of your league and you stupidly had feelings for him.

Price’s finger squeezed the trigger on top of yours and as the pistol clicked with an empty round, your eyes snapped open and you sucked in a breath. For a few seconds, he lingered in place, his body pressed against yours, hand curled around your fingers, and his warm, steady breath right at your ear. 

If you turned your head, you were certain you’d be at the perfect angle to kiss him. 

But you couldn’t. All you could do was stare at the pistol in front of you, the nausea in your stomach spiking suddenly. 

You were going to puke. 

Not because of your hangover or because there was a deadly weapon in your hand. It wasn’t even because of the sudden heat and arousal coursing through you with just how close he was. No. It was because you liked him. 

You liked him and he made it clear the night between the two of you was a mistake and you were hurt not just by his words but by yourself as well. 

How stupid could you be?

A gag pressed the back of your throat and you managed to shrug Price away from your body, taking two steps to the nearest tree before you bent over and threw up. It was mostly water, but it still burned like fire at the back of your throat and you squeezed your eyes shut. Luckily, there wasn’t much and it was over just as quickly as it started. Unfortunately, the pounding in your skull magnified as you stood up straight and you pressed your free hand to your forehead with a wince. 

“Shit,” Price said, stepping up to your side. “Are you alright?”

The heat of embarrassment was almost unbearable. It pressed against your face like a hot towel, smothering and relentless. You’d puked in front of him. You puked in front of the man you liked and he called your night together a mistake. 

Could this summer get any worse?

“Yeah,” you sighed, standing up straight with the pistol still in your hand. “Just really hungover.”

“Right. I suppose that’s enough target practice for today.” He took the gun from your hand and without the weight of it, you felt different. Like you might float away from him without it. “Are you alright to walk back?”

Did that mean if you weren’t, he’d carry you?

As much as you would love that, you nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

Price nodded but neither of you made a move to actually return to the cabin. You dreaded the trip back, mostly because you knew there’d be awkward silence between you two and the urge to bring up the previous night would be as impossible to hold back as your puke had been. Luckily, if you did start discussing what had happened, you were certain you’d throw up again so you managed to keep your mouth shut.

A few times on your walk back, Price paused to ask if you were alright and you assured him each time with a quick I’m fine . Whether he believed you or not, you weren’t sure. Once or twice, he stared at you a moment longer than necessary like there was something he wanted to say. In the end, he decided against it and before either of you said anything else, the cabin loomed ahead of you in the clearing of trees.

All you wanted was to lay down and sleep, maybe take a shower and hope that the steam relieved some of the ache in your head. You didn’t say anything as you walked through the front door but your eyes cut to the couch across the living room and memories of last night flashed like a movie in your head.

The feel of his hand curling around the back of your neck, pulling you to him before his lips found yours in the darkness. The rain pelting the roof as he laid you back on the couch and pushed into you, igniting you with a fire that still smoldered hours later. 

It was a mistake …

It was.

You knew that now.

Behind you, Price mumbled something about making lunch but you turned to the hallway and hurried back into the bedroom. Food was the last thing on your mind and you were pretty sure if you stuck around long enough, you’d end up saying something to him. No threats of vomit would be able to stop you. 

Instead, you shut the door behind you and kicked your tennis shoes off. The room was an absolute mess. Clothes were strewn everywhere, spilling from the drawers and your suitcase as well as cups of water littering the nightstand, the empty bottle of whiskey at the foot of the bed, and two damp towels slung over the bed posts. 

You vowed to clean it when you woke up.

But there was nothing that would stop you from crawling back beneath those sheets and sleeping until this hangover was over and the sudden realization of your feelings for Captain Price didn’t feel so raw. 

Just as you pushed your leggings down your legs and left them on the floor, the one thing that could keep you from falling back into bed echoed through the room.

Ding!

You froze, eyes narrowed in confusion before you whipped your head to the device sitting on the windowsill, still hooked up to the charger where you’d left it. 

Ding!

Several notifications came in one right after the other and you hurried across the room to tap at the screen. It came to life and you stared down at the generic flowery wallpaper you’d snatched off Pinterest weeks ago. In the corner of the screen, one single signal bar was lit up and your eyebrows lifted right to your hairline.

Fourteen text messages.

Two voicemails.

And countless emails, Facebook, and various social media notifications.

You swiped the screen and pulled up the texts first, the corner of your lips curling into a smile. Jenna was still messaging you, her texts growing from frantic to irritated and back to frantic and though you hated that she was worried about you, you couldn’t help but grin. 

Without moving the phone too much, scared to lose that single bar of service, you lowered onto your knees and tapped your fingers on the screen.

You are NEVER going to believe the summer I’m having!

You sent it, chewing the inside of your lip as you waited for it to deliver. And when it had, three little dots letting you know that Jenna not only got your message but was responding popped up and you nearly laughed. 

J: OMG YOU’RE ALIVE!! Tell me everything!

---

 

Chapter 15: Friends

Notes:

Hope everyone had a good holiday! Consider this my (belated) Christmas gift :)

---

One bar of service was enough to get exactly two messages from Jenna and send three of your own. You stared down at the text message as the three dots appeared, disappeared, popped back up for about five minutes, before disappearing for good. No matter which way you tilted the phone or held it against the window to get more, that one little bar held on for dear life for a solid fifteen minutes then…

Poof!

It was gone. 

You sat back on your heels as you kneeled against the wall, shoulders slumping in defeat. Two messages. That's all you'd been able to relieve. 

OMG YOU’RE ALIVE!! Tell me everything!

Well, I can't exactly tell you much just that I'm definitely alive and…I'm with a guy. 

The corner of your lip curled into a smirk as you read the brief conversation for the hundredth time. You knew your message would only make her have a thousand more questions but a little intrigue never hurt anyone and Jenna loved to gossip. Especially when it involved guys and possible love affairs. 

Not that you were having a love affair with Price or anything. 

You'd slept with him, yeah, but was that really an affair? 

Tension coiled your midsection and you frowned down at the phone in your hands, lifting it higher to try to get that signal bar back. It didn't work. 

A guy??? You can't leave me hanging with that! Give me the deeetails!!!

I will, I will…I just can't right now. But enough about me! How's your summer going?

You knew she wouldn't fall for your diversion tactic but it was worth a shot nonetheless. Texting her at all was beyond stupid but fuck, you just needed someone who wasn't a thirty-something militant grump to vent to. Especially after last night—the effects of which you were still suffering from. Your head hadn't quit pounding, not to mention the nausea was now joined by nervous knots twisted in your stomach, and as if that wasn't enough, heartache was thrown into the mix. 

Heartache for a man who was so completely emotionally unavailable that five minutes after coming inside you, had told you it'd been a mistake. God, what would Jenna say if you told her about sleeping with him? You could almost hear her voice since she'd counseled you through similar heartache in college—lessons you thought you'd learned already. 

Most men have the emotional maturity of a sack of rocks. You can play with them but expecting more than a few orgasms is just self-destructive, babe.

To which you'd tell her she was right, let her convince you that all you needed was a girl's night of greasy food, cheesy horror movies, and copious amounts of wine. You smiled down at your phone and swiped your thumb across the cracked screen. It'd been three weeks since you had been forced into hiding and the days were getting longer and more difficult to get through. 

Even without adding the messiness of sleeping with Price. What you wouldn't give for one of Jenna's girls' nights right now. 

Which only made you feel fucking awful as soon as you remembered that your father was holed up somewhere just like you, only nursing a gunshot wound. The thought hit you like a punch to the gut and you stared down at the phone, swallowing despite the desert on the back of your tongue. He'd been shot while you were being fucked on the couch and here you were, throwing a pity party for yourself because the emotionally stunted guy realized what a stupid mistake it was.

He wasn't emotionally immature. 

You were.

Price figured out five minutes after post-orgasm clarity what it took thirteen hours for you to get through your head.

It was a mistake. 

A mistake you'd never forget, probably, but a mistake all the same. 

You dropped your phone on the windowsill and sat forward, propping your elbows on your knees so you could put your head in your hands. How could you have been so stupid? 

Throwing yourself at a guy like that? 

Beyond stupid. 

Expecting him to, what, fall in love with you afterward? 

Monumentally fucking stupid. 

You sat up and pushed your hair out of your face, wrenching Price’s hat from your head in the same motion. You stared down at it for a moment, just long enough for the wave of misery to wash back over you, before tossing it onto the dresser. All of this because you'd been too much of a brat and thought Price would play along to a stupid little game. 

Well, he had played along for a while, keeping your phone away from you. It’d been fun and you’d honestly give up the night you’d had to get that back with him. As irritated as he made you, especially that day in the car when he flaunted your phone in front of you and wouldn’t let you at least see your messages, you liked it. You liked him flirting and picking at you and now that he might not anymore…

A frown pinched your brow and you lifted your gaze back to the phone sitting on the windowsill. Though the single signal bar you’d found was gone, not likely to return anytime soon, you couldn’t shake a creeping sensation that slithered up the back of your neck. You’d gotten the text messages from Jenna…but also a slew of other notifications. Social media notifications. Which meant, the little bar that had held on for twenty minutes or so, had also connected you to the internet.

In an instant, you swiped the phone from the windowsill and typed your passcode in, swiping through the apps until you found your settings. A tiny sigh of relief left your lips and you sat back on your heels once more, shoulders slumping. Your location sharing had been turned off, thankfully.

But…

Did that mean you couldn’t be tracked?

What if whoever was after your father could ping your location? If they were watching him and found him with a whole team of guards hiding him, then they’d surely find you. 

Dread and horror dropped like a stone in your gut and you stared at the top corner of your screen where the small X was located on the signal bars. You quickly swiped through and turned the data off and just for good measure, turned the whole thing off before setting it on the floor. You pressed a hand to your midsection where the knots were twisting painfully. Had you been stupid about your feelings for Price and for texting your friend when there were possible murderers after you? 

It was possible.

Sure, you had a degree and had finished college with a relatively high GPA, but you were impulsive and rash and that often led you to make bad decisions. Decisions that usually landed you in the arms of a guy that would ghost you after getting what he wanted but also decisions that could lead you to an early grave in this case. 

Outside your bedroom door, the floors creaked and you held your breath, eyes cutting to the right. Fear clawed at your spine with icy fingers but quickly faded as the door to the bathroom opened and shut half a second later. Still, you didn’t exhale, waiting for any sound that could mean trouble.

Instead, you heard the shower faucet squeaking as it twisted and the rush of water hitting the tile. It was just Price…taking a shower.

You scowled at the mental images that flooded your mind, dredging up memories of his body that you were struggling to hide away. Now was not the time to dwell on the details of the previous night, though you definitely wanted to. 

The tingling in your feet made you wince and you stood up, shaking the static out of them. With a final glance at the phone still lying on the floor, you crossed to the bedroom door and opened it. You’d taken your leggings off and had nothing but a t-shirt on, but not like anyone would see. He was in the shower.

And you needed to ask him something.

It could wait, but the questions you needed to ask might make him angry, and having the bathroom door between you could help in the long run.

You turned on your feet and lifted a hand to the bathroom door, taking a deep breath to steady yourself before you knocked on it. From inside, you could hear Price shift the curtain to the side before he spoke. “Yeah?”

“Um.” Ah, shit. This was going to be harder than you thought. “So, I have a question.”

Silence was your response but only for a moment. “Can it wait?”

It could. It definitely could wait, but you’d already gotten this far. “I don’t know. Maybe. But you know how last week when I kept getting messages when we went to town?”

Another moment of quiet with only the spray of the water echoing from the bathroom. After a few beats, Price spoke. “Yeah.”

“Okay, so, like…In the bedroom—well, in the window, actually, it turns out that my phone picks up a signal and I got a few more text messages.”

The faucet shrieked suddenly and you jumped back on your heels, staring at the door to the bathroom. Was he getting out? He’d just gotten in! Your plan was backfiring and you barely had a moment to even catch your breath before—

Price was suddenly standing in front of you, swinging the door open so quickly that the rush of air pulled your hair across your face and you blinked through the strands at his naked body. Naked. Dripping wet. Body.

Well, half of it. 

He’d wrapped a fluffy, gray towel around his waist and was clutching it tightly in his fist and you stood there staring at him with your jaw slack, eyes wide, and brain completely turned to mush. “You got a text message? From who?”

“Jenna.” You still hadn’t looked away from his chest— couldn’t look away from it actually. It was so wet, so broad. You wanted to catch the droplets on the tip of your tongue and honestly, he was extremely cruel to do this to you when you were trying to explain the situation to him.

“And?”

You blinked and lifted your gaze to his face, frowning as you tried your best to fix the malfunction happening in your brain. 

“And, I don’t know, can our location be pinged or something? I texted her back, which I admit was a mistake, but my location sharing is off and I turned the data off just a second ago, but should I be worried?”

Price sighed and reached up with his free hand, scrubbing his palm across his face. He glanced over your head into the bedroom and leaned a damp shoulder against the door frame. “No. You don’t have to be worried.”

“Okay, well, what if they can hack my messages or—”

“I installed a location blocker the first night I had your phone. As long as you don’t tell anyone where you are, they’re not likely to find you.”

“They found my father.”

Price pursed his lips and stared down at you, his head tilting to the side. There was a look behind his eyes that made you frown, like he was keeping something from you. You crossed your arms over your chest and shifted from one foot to the other. “What?”

He shook his head and glanced away, but it didn’t hide the look from you. It was still there, sitting right behind the tension narrowing his eyes. “I suspect someone in your father’s team might have revealed his location.”

“Why do you suspect that?”

“Because the same precautions I took, were taken with him and he was still found.”

His answer didn’t help relieve any of the dread sinking through you and you pressed a hand to your stomach. Behind your palm, nausea was rolling at full force and you swallowed tightly. “What if they tell them where we are?”

“No one knows where we are, Princess.” Price pushed away from the wall but didn’t take a step back into the bathroom. Instead, to your complete surprise, he reached out and curled a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head back. “I told you I would keep you safe and that’s what I plan to do. No more texting.”

His hand fell away and you blinked a few times, watching him step back into the bathroom. You wanted to reach out to him, touch him, grab that towel and rip it away but all you could do was stand there and watch the door close. At the last second, just before it clicked shut, you caught a glimpse of Price’s face and the small smile on his lips.

Those damn butterflies returned with a vengeance and they didn’t mix well with the knots still twisting your insides. His words were reassuring but they hadn’t completely erased the worry from your mind. 

You just hoped that despite his confidence that he would keep you safe, you hadn’t accidentally doomed you with those three text messages to Jenna.

---

Upon waking up several hours later, two thoughts were immediately on your mind. One; the effects of your hangover had thankfully faded after getting the rest you craved and two; you definitely needed a shower. It was priority number one and you stood beneath the warm, the temperature as hot as it would go, and hoped it’d wash all the worry, paranoia, and butterflies down the drain. 

It didn’t, of course.

A few still remained, tingling the inside of your stomach anytime you thought about the man you were forced into close proximity with. The man that kissed you so perfectly that you knew you’d compare every man you’d be with in the future to him. 

The shower had washed away more of your worry and paranoia but the residue of your feelings for Captain Price definitely remained. You wrapped a towel around your chest and quickly made your way back into the bedroom, though you knew he wouldn’t see you.

From the smell wafting from the kitchen, you knew exactly where he was and while your stomach hadn’t fully recovered from your night of too much whiskey, whatever he was making smelled delicious. It would be an insult if you didn’t eat some of it.

You dressed quickly and glanced at the mess around the bedroom, shoulders slumping. It definitely needed to be picked up and tidied but that was a chore for tomorrow you. Tonight, you were hungry, still a little worried—after eyeing your phone sitting on the floor where you’d left it—and those fucking butterflies were already urging you to leave the room. They were desperate to see Price again and you seriously considered punching yourself in the stomach to make them disappear.

Not wanting to risk vomiting again, because once was already too many times for the day, you made your way out of the bedroom and turned the corner where the kitchen sat. Sure enough, he was exactly where you expected him to be; right at the stove. He had a kitchen towel slung over one shoulder, a dark tan t-shirt, and pair of jeans on, and his hair was a bit messy as if he had combed it with his fingers after his shower earlier. You clamped your bottom lip between your teeth and folded your arms over your chest as he lifted his head to glance up at you.

“Hungry?”

You were starving.

“A little.”

So preoccupied with staring at him, you’d barely even looked at what it was he was cooking. It was pasta with a creamy sauce and sausage—a very manly kind of meal but you didn’t care. You’d eat it. 

You opened your mouth to tell him it smelled delicious when a thought popped into your head, eclipsing everything else. Something he’d told you earlier that you’d been too distracted by his half-naked body to fully grasp flashed and you narrowed your eyes. 

“Wait.” Price looked up at you and you shifted on your feet. “What did you mean earlier when you said you installed a blocker on my phone? I have a passcode…”

The playful roll of his eyes surprised you and you watched him return to stirring his pasta in the pan as if violating your privacy wasn’t a big deal at all. Heat flared across your cheeks and you made a mental count of all the lewd pictures stored in your camera roll—not to mention a few dirty texts and screenshots that would mortify you if he saw them! 

“You mean your birthday? Not a great choice for keeping anyone out, Princess.”

“How do you know my birthday?”

“It was in your file.”

Your what?

You blinked slowly and when he didn’t elaborate you took a step forward. “What file?”

“Before I took the job, I was given your file. Basic information like birthday, address, where you attended university, friends, and possible romantic partners.”

“Why would you need to know that?” Your voice was shrill and you hated the sound of it but couldn’t exactly contain your humiliation and rage. You’d felt violated at the mere thought of him peeping through your phone but he’d had an entire glimpse into your life and you knew next to nothing about him! 

This wasn’t just unfair, it was twisted!

“It’s a part of my job. If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t go snooping through your phone and your file is the same kind of information you’d find on any of your social media accounts.”

Okay, so he had a point there, but still! 

Why didn’t you get a file on him? 

He had your life in his hands and you were supposed to just trust him? 

“Why didn’t I get a file on you?”

Price sighed, one that you’d heard before and while a few days ago, it would have thrilled you to know you were irritating him, you were the one annoyed this time. He set the spoon he’d been stirring the pasta with down on the handle of the pan and faced you, crossing his arms over his chest. You tried to ignore the length of his forearms and how hot they were, narrowing your eyes on his face to keep your focus. “What would you like to know?”

And that one question made your eyes go wide and you blinked. All at once, a hundred questions flooded your head. Where was he from? Why had he built this cabin? What bad memories were tied to that whiskey bottle? Did he really regret sleeping with you?

None of those came out of your mouth. 

“Who hired you?”

“Your father.”

“Okay. When is your birthday?”

“February tenth.”

For some reason, you smiled at that and made a mental note. Aquarius. Not that you were particularly convinced the zodiac was legit, but it was nice to know. 

“What year?”

“Every year.”

You rolled your eyes as he chuckled and checked the pasta to make sure it wasn’t sticking to the bottom of the pan. “You’re hilarious. I’m actually trying to get to know you here.” That’s where you should have shut up, but the words tumbled from your mouth before you could stop them. “Which is ironic seeing as how we’ve already…”

His eyes met yours and you clamped your mouth shut, cutting your gaze away from him. Though you hadn’t finished your sentence, you could tell with a single glance he knew what you meant.

Seeing as how we’ve already fucked each other…

Tension and heat spiked, pressing in on you at all sides and though you refused to look at him, you could feel his gaze piercing through you.

It nearly left you breathless.

In the split second you caught the look in his eyes, you saw so much of what he felt before he could hide it and the warmth that prickled at your cheeks sank through your midsection. You cleared your throat and tucked the damp strands of your hair behind your ear, fighting the need to fill the silence though you were too scared to say too much. 

Instead, you settled on, “sorry.”

Price pulled the towel from his shoulder and wiped his hands on it before tossing it onto the counter beside the stove. He twisted the knob until the gas beneath the pan faded and turned to face you. 

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Okay.”

“But I think we should talk about it.”

You looked up at him with a frown pinching your brows. “Why?”

“Because,” he started and it was his turn to glance away from you. He took a deep breath and you watched his chest rise and fall, wishing you could move closer, wanting to slide your hands up his shoulders the way you had last night. “We didn’t use protection and I came—”

You held your hands up. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m on the shot.”

His gaze returned to you and he nodded. “Okay.”

“And I know I was upset last night, but I’m not anymore. You were right. It was a mistake.”

“...Right.”

“I mean, I think we can really blame it on all the flirting between us and I don’t know about you, but it’s been like six months since I slept with anyone so I think I was just pent up and maybe you were as well but at least we got it out of our system, you know? Now we can just be friends.”

Good god, shut UP!

You clamped your lips shut and rolled them between your teeth to keep anything else from spilling out. For a moment, with the only sound between you from the sizzling pan on the stove, Price stared at you, his eyes clouded with something you couldn’t exactly define. It was dark and penetrating and as his gaze dropped to your lips, lingering for a moment before lifting back up to meet your gaze. 

“Friends,” he repeated and you didn’t know why he was only saying one-word responses while you verbally puked your thoughts out. “Alright. Let’s be friends.”

You swallowed tightly and fought the shiver that bloomed up your spine at the tone of his words.  

As he stepped closer, you pressed into the counter behind you and put your palms down on the edge, sucking your breath in and holding it tight. He put a hand down beside yours, close enough that his thumb brushed the side of your pinky. Your knees nearly buckled.

“Princess,” he said, his voice low and deep, sinking through your senses and making your eyelids flutter. 

When you found the strength to respond, your voice was nothing but a whisper. “Yeah?”

“I need you to move.”

“What?”

“You’re in the way.” 

Price lifted his gaze and stared pointedly at the cabinet behind your head and it took far too long for you to realize that he was trying to get to the plates. A sheepish smile tugged the corner of your lips and you quickly stepped to the side, sliding along the length of the counter while he watched you. Without taking his eyes away from your face, Price opened the cabinet and pulled out two plates, handing one off to you before the door thumped shut beside your head. 

You stared down at it in your hands because it was safer than looking at him and bit your bottom lip. Though you were prepared to stick to your word and do exactly as you said, be friends with him, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that maybe you’d been wrong. 

Maybe you hadn’t gotten it out of your system.

As you glanced at Price dipping his pasta out on his plate, you caught the hint of a smile on his lips and swallowed tightly.

And maybe he hadn’t gotten it out of his system either.

---

 

Notes:

Is Price so confident that he's underestimating his enemy? Is Jenna really who she says she is? Will you and Price ever share that single bed?
Stick around and find out in the next chapter ;)

Chapter 16: Twisted

Notes:

Last update of 2022! See you guys next year and I'm not at ALL sorry about this cliffhanger :D

---

The little moment in the kitchen when Price leaned close to you and touched your pinky with the softest brush of his thumb had been the only physical contact you had with him the next few days. Thankfully, it was enough to fuel you through the days but you were starting to run on empty and you were left with only two choices.

Either you could continue to ignore it and pretend like everything was peachy-keen between the two of you, that you actually could be friends, and whatever tension and desire you had for him had been taken care of. This choice had been your first one and while Price seemed to be handling this whole friendship thing a lot better than you expected, you were struggling. 

You’d always been an awful liar and the more time you spent around him or with him, you could tell he was pretty good at seeing through bullshit.

So you kept to yourself, busying your hands and mind with cleaning the bedroom and it’d worked. For a few hours, anyway.

You took your cleaning expertise to the bathroom and kitchen and when that no longer distracted you from how much you wanted a man you couldn’t have, you realized you were faced with your only other choice.

Which was to admit you hadn’t gotten it out of your system and hope he felt the same way, would scoop you up, kiss you, and take you to his bedroom. 

Of course, you hadn’t exactly gathered up the courage to even think about how you’d even begin to tell him that. So after an entire day of cleaning, you kept to yourself in the bedroom, only coming out for bathroom visits and meals. 

And Price kept himself busy with tasks he didn’t include you in.

He’d done some trimming of the overgrown bushes and thicket around the cabin and fixed a leaky faucet that had been dripping long before you ever stepped foot inside this place. Currently, he was outside doing something at the back of the cabin. You could hear him shuffling through the leaves and grass right beneath the bedroom window and after taking a quick peek around the curtain, you realized what a mistake it’d been.

Because it was quite a warm day…

And he was shirtless.

You watched him clear out several limbs from around the HVAC unit, his muscles gleaming with sweat and rippling with every move he made. It was torture. You were torturing yourself but no matter how badly you wanted to turn away and dive into a cold shower, you couldn’t. 

That is, until he stood up straight and swiped the back of his hand across his brow, tilting his head back to catch his breath. His gaze flickered to the window and you spun away from it, slapping your hand to the curtain to keep it from moving.

It was no use.

He definitely saw you being a total creeper.

You smacked yourself in the forehead and cringed so hard your nose scrunched almost painfully. Were you that much of a thirsty bitch that a shirtless man clearing leaves left you in such a daze you’d barely noticed him looking up at you? 

The answer to that was an easy one to come to.

Yes.

You were.

Because you knew exactly how those muscles felt against your body and knew that he could easily lift you and toss you around to have his way with you however he wanted. And while your fantasies and little touches and memories had kept you satisfied and helped you behave so far, you didn’t think you’d be able to take much more.

So yes, you were a thirsty bitch.

But was it really your fault?

He was practically flaunting himself in front of you. 

Who in their right mind wouldn’t stare?

Opening your eyes, you let your head fall back against the wall and sighed. As embarrassed as you were to have been caught staring at Price, you were at least relieved that you’d already cleaned the bedroom and gotten it nice and neat because this was your home now. There was no way you’d be leaving this room ever again.

The sound of Price’s footsteps, heavy on the front porch, made you suck in a breath and you quickly glanced at the bedroom door. He moved into the cabin and the closer he got to your bedroom, the harder your heart pounded against your ribs. Oh, god, was he going to confront you about staring at him?

Heat flooded your face and you brought your hand to your throat, waiting with your breath held tight in your chest.

The thump of his boots stopped right between the bedroom door and the bathroom and for a moment, you wondered if he was just standing there.

Until the sound of his knock, sharp and quick against the door, startled you so badly you had to press a hand to your mouth to keep from yelping. “Yeah?”

The croak of your voice was almost as embarrassing as him knowing you were staring at him earlier.

“Come here,” he commanded in that gruff voice that should have scared you but stupidly, your body only got turned on by it. “I want to show you something.”

Oh, god.

You didn’t move—couldn’t move.

“S-show me what?”

Price sighed loud enough that you heard it through the door and he shifted on his feet. “A bit easier to show you out here, Princess.”

There was no getting out of it. But then again, did you even want to? 

You blinked, a thought snapping in your head like a light flicking on. Wait. Was he still shirtless?

Still sweaty?

You pushed off the wall and crossed the room in three steps, throwing the door open and blinking up at him. Yep. Still shirtless.

It took all your strength but you kept your eyes focused on his face. Honestly, you should get an award for how well you were behaving right now. Especially considering the fact that all you wanted was to drop to your knees and drag your tongue across his stomach. 

“What do you want to show me?”

Price took a step back on his heels until he was between the hallway and the living room and pointed to something on the floor. Not letting your gaze drop a fucking millimeter from his face, you followed him and turned, staring down at the old rug stretched across the floorboards. 

“I want you to familiarize yourself with the crawl space.”

You reeled back and blinked up at him. 

“ Under the cabin?”

“That’s usually where a crawl space is, Princess.”

“Why?”

Price narrowed his gaze and shifted on his feet as he tilted his head to stare down at you. “Just in case.”

“That makes me nervous.” You folded your arms over your chest and looked back down at the floor. Worry, paranoia, and arousal were such a strange combination of things to be feeling but all three had been ebbing and flowing through you since your father had been shot. Sometimes, usually when he was as close to you as he was now, they would all flare back up and make a foul sensation in your gut. You lifted your head to look back up at him. “What if there are spiders?”

“Don’t worry. I asked them nicely to step out for the day.” 

You glared at him as he stepped around you and bent down, grabbing the edge of the rug. He wrenched it back revealing a square cut out of the floorboards, just big enough for one person to fit into at once. A loop of rope sat at one end and Price curled his first two fingers through it, pulling the door up. 

On the back, where the hinges were, a small set of steps led down into the dim depths beneath the cabin and you tiptoed forward, leaning over to peek down at the gravel below. It looked tall enough to stand in, but Price would definitely have to crouch to fit. While it didn’t immediately look full of spiders or scorpions or other creepy crawlies, you didn’t exactly want to find out for yourself. “Okay, looks good.”

“Would you prefer if I went down first?”

You gulped. 

Did he know how that sounded?

You stared down into the crawl space, not daring to glance up at him, and nodded. “Yeah. I think I would.”

He leaned forward and put his hands on either side of the cutout before dropping down, completely neglecting the steps. As soon as he hit the ground, he dusted his hands on his pants and peered up at you. 

“Your turn, Princess.”

A small part of you knew it’d be hilarious to shut the door on him and stand on it, but you didn’t exactly feel like facing his wrath today. He was doing this for your safety, after all. It might be beneficial to you to actually pay attention, even though the thought of stepping into the crawl space made your stomach roll.

You leaned down and dropped your foot onto the first step. It wasn’t until you reached the bottom and the gravel crunched under your flipflop that you really regretted not putting your tennis shoes on. You ducked your head and faced Price as you folded your arms around your waist and shuddered. 

Several cobwebs hung from the boards but so far, no spiders. Every few feet, concrete pillars were positioned to hold the house up, and beams crisscrossed over your head. It looked pretty damn sturdy and you blinked at Price. He built this place? 

Turning back to face him, you tilted your head and stared. He was quite the enigma…you knew so little about him and yet, you knew exactly how he sounded when he was inside you. You knew how he whimpered and his breath panted against your ear and how tight his hands had gripped your hips as he— 

“The door is straight back and two beams to the left.” His words cut right through your thoughts and you cleared your throat, looking toward the right to keep him from noticing how flushed you’d become. “It might be dark in the event that something happens so I want you to close your eyes.”

“Oh, hell no.”

Price took a step back where the ground kind of sloped lower and moved between the beams so he could stand up straight. And when he did, he turned his narrowed gaze and pursed lips to you. 

“I’m not going to let you hurt yourself.”

“Too late, Pricey.” You held up your hand where the scab across your fingers was still present. It was healing nicely, but you kind of figured you’d have a scar. 

“That was your own fault.”

True. You’d been distracted by him being shirtless and sweaty, which was why you definitely weren’t closing your eyes now when he was just as shirtless and sweaty. Your gaze dropped to his chest and immediately cut away. 

“Here.” Price’s voice drew your attention back to him and you blinked down at the hand he held out for you. “I’ll guide you.”

In the dim light that reached the crawl space, dust motes danced and swirled and you could only stare at Price’s hand held out in the middle of a single beam of light. Slowly, you lifted your hand and slid it against his palm and when his fingers curled around yours, it was almost as torturous as seeing him shirtless.

But it was worse.

Because it made you feel things .

Things that weren’t easy to brush off as hormones or desire. Things that hurt. Things that scared you.

If Price felt them as well, you couldn’t tell. He simply turned, the heel of his boot crunching the gravel, and led you down the slight slope. You did as he asked and closed your eyes, one hand held firmly in his while the other stretched out in front of you to feel the way. A soft, wispy cobweb brushed through your fingers and you grimaced with a whine.

“I hope you appreciate how compliant I’m being right now because I’m very much not having a good time.”

The sound of his laugh, deep and raspy and warm enough to make your knees feel weaker than they already were, almost snapped your eyes open but you tightened them. “If it makes you feel any better, we’re almost there. Now duck and step to the left.”

You did as he commanded and bent at the waist, gripping his hand tighter as your other hand found the back wall of the foundation. The rough concrete brushed along your fingertips until it turned into a rough board of thick plywood.

“Is this the door?”

He answered you by pushing it open on quiet hinges and the dim light brightened, making you open your eyes to see the woods stretching behind the house. You recognized the tree he had pointed out to you the other day and your heart skipped a beat when you remembered how close he’d gotten to you as he showed you how to shoot that gun. 

Price ducked beneath the door and you followed. Or, you tried to follow.

The tip of your flip-flop caught on the bottom of the door and you fell forward, sucking in a breath at the gravel coming up quickly. You knew it’d hurt and braced yourself for the impact.

But Price’s grip tightened on your hand and he was quick to snatch you around the waist with the other one, pulling you up until your chest pressed into his.

Which would have been the ideal position if it weren’t for the sudden pain in your ankle as it twisted at an odd angle. You cried out and lifted your foot, the flip-flop gone, still wedged beneath the corner of the door, and Price let go of your hand to reposition you in his arms.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know,” you whined, reaching down to grab your ankle. Pain throbbed through the joint and you squeezed your eyes shut. “I think I broke it.”

“How in the world did you bloody manage that?” 

“I don’t know but it hurts!”

He swore under his breath and bent down though he kept you steady with the arm around your waist. Just as you opened your eyes, Price scooped you up in his arms and you yelped as the ground fell away from you fast. 

“I’ve never met a person who can hurt themselves so easily.”

You scowled, wishing you could tell him you’d never met a person so insufferable and annoying, but no words would form on your tongue. You were suddenly very aware of his bare chest right against your side and how easily he was carrying you. 

Price rolled his eyes and moved, lugging you back around the side of the cabin and up the hillside to the porch. “Here I was,” he started with a slight shake of his head. “Prepared to keep you safe from mercenaries or terrorists or assassins.”

The thump of his boots on the porch steps matched the pulse of the pain in your ankle and the beat of your heart. You didn’t know what to focus on. The pain, the feel of his arms around you, whatever he was saying...All you could do was stare at his face so close to yours.

“And I should have been protecting you from yourself.”

“Just keeping you on your toes, Pricey.”

He chuckled and pushed the door open with his foot, sweeping you into the cabin bridal style. It was enough to make your face blush bright pink. And before you were ready, he set you down in the chair at the table and pulled the other one around in front of you where he took a seat. He took hold of your ankle and dropped it on his thigh. 

“What are you—AH!” The brush of his fingers on the underside of your foot, right where you were ticklish the most sucked your words back into your throat and you nearly kicked him. 

Price looked up at you with a grin and curled his hands around your ankle. “It’s not broken, but you’re very ticklish.”

“I just wasn’t expecting it—AH! Okay, stop tickling me!”  

If the smile on his face wasn’t so cute, you’d have kicked it off of him. But you could barely move. His fingers were gentle around your ankle as he inspected it and you sat as still as a statue in the chair, hands gripping the seat so tightly, your knuckles were turning white. Price smoothed the skin on the inside of your leg with his thumb, nearly drawing a quiet moan from your throat but you managed to swallow it down. But you couldn't help squirming in the chair, just a slow shift of your hips.

Price lifted his gaze, not to your face but to your thighs and you watched as he slowly dragged his eyes up your torso, lingering briefly on your throat and lips before meeting your eyes. There was a look you'd seen before in his stare.

Desire and hunger...like he wanted to devour you.

You wanted him to.

When he spoke, his voice was quiet and deep and you pinched your bottom lip between your teeth as you stared at him. “I think you've just twisted it, Princess.”

“Oh.” 

“Think you can stand on it?”

You nodded and dropped your foot back to the floor, hesitating a moment before standing up. Price tilted his head back, following you as you did so and you could only stare down at him as he sat back, knees wide apart with his hands on his thighs. He was so close. Reaching out to touch him would be so easy and the look he was giving you made you want to do so much more than that. There was a heat darkening his blue eyes that you could feel scorch every inch of your body.

“How does it feel?” 

It burned.

It left you breathless.

Weak.

You knew he meant your ankle and it felt fine, but you couldn't walk away from him. Not this time.

“It hurts.”

“Do you need me to carry you to the bedroom?” The question was so quiet but you’d felt it burn through you like fire, nearly stealing your breath as it settled in your lower belly. But you managed to whisper a single-word response to him.

“Yes.”

---

 

Notes:

Okay, I'm a little sorry about the cliffhanger....but it's just so much fun.
Also, I tried VERY hard not to make this so full of sexual tension but these two want to fuck again so badly that they're practically feral for it. Thanks again for all the kudos and comments and reads! I seriously never expected this fic to be this popular or this fun to write! You all have definitely made it fun though. I love reading through your comments!

Happy New Year!

Chapter 17: Show and Tell

Notes:

I think Price has a favorite position :)

 

---

“Do you need me to carry you to the bedroom?” 

“Yes.”

Slowly, Price stood from the chair and as he towered over you, tension swirled thick and hot. Without a word, he lifted his hand and curled it around your wrist to carefully lift it. He ducked under your arm, slid his other arm beneath your knees, and scooped you back up. Your stomach dropped from the sudden shift and you ducked your head to hide the smile curling the corners of your lips.

Price hummed, the sound rumbling his chest and you peered up at him. 

“I know that smile.”

“What smile?”

He stared pointedly at your lips. “ That one. It’s the same one you had when I bandaged your hand up.”

“Maybe I just like this side of you.”

He stepped toward the bedroom and your heartbeat thumped wildly against your pulse points. “And what side is that?”

“The sweet one.”

“And what if I dropped you? I wouldn’t be so sweet then, would I?”

You scowled as he crossed into the hallway. So close to the bedroom yet still so far away. Your entire body was buzzing with anticipation and the butterflies were assaulting your belly now. 

“You wouldn’t—”

Price quickly lowered you a bit, just enough that your eyes widened and your words cut off with a gasp. As he grinned, you scowled and smacked his shoulder. 

“You’re being awfully flirty, Captain.” You swallowed but nothing could stop the words now. “I wasn’t aware friends flirted with one another like this.”

He stopped just outside the threshold of the bedroom and stared past you where the bed was. For just a moment, you worried you’d taken it too far. Maybe he wasn’t flirting. Maybe he was just being nice and you misinterpreted it. Before you could apologize, Price took a breath and his eyes met yours. 

“Not sure we can be friends, Princess.”

Half of you was full of elation and wanted to celebrate but the other half was only worried about what he could mean. You swallowed tightly and stared at him as he took a step, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Was he going to tell you this was a mistake? That he couldn’t do this, that it was wrong, or give some other excuse? 

“What do you mean? Why?”

Without giving you an answer, Price stepped into the room and carried you easily to the bed. Before he set you down on the mattress or let go of you at all, he looked at you. Really looked at you. His eyes searched yours and you had the feeling he was sure you already knew the answer to that question.

You knew.

It was obvious.

Pretending to be friends was stupid at this point because you already knew what it was like to feel him inside you and there was no way it could go back to the way it was before that. You still wanted him, just as badly as you had the night you’d played cards with him. You wanted him to kiss you, touch you, and of course, you wanted him to fuck you but…you wanted more.

You don’t know how much more, but you didn’t want this to end with you going back to your father’s home, Price going back to wherever he came from, and the two of you being just a random, summer fling.

You hoped he wanted that as well.

If he didn’t…well, you’d have to settle for having the one night you shared together. 

Price bent at the waist and set you down on the bed and when his arms slid out from beneath you, you almost reached out to stop him. A small part of you was still afraid of his answer, still afraid of your own feelings, and you sat back against the headboard and pillows, almost afraid to look up at him.

“You know why,” he finally answered in a quiet voice that echoed around you as if he’d shouted it. 

“I think you give me too much credit.” Though the nerves in your stomach were twisting so tightly you could hardly stand it, your feeble attempt at a joke did as you intended. The corner of Price’s lips twitched into a smile and he lifted a hand, running his fingers over his hair. “Sometimes I need things spelled out.”

At this, he chuckled and for a moment, you thought he would walk away and leave you there with nothing else. But Price surprised you. You watched him lift a hand and press his palm to the wall above your head. He leaned down until he was almost directly over you and narrowed his eyes. 

“I have some things I need to finish up outside, Princess.” You couldn’t move, couldn’t even think. Hell, it was hard for you to remember how to even breathe . He was so close you could—and wanted to—reach out and touch him. “Afterward, I’ll show you why you and I can’t be friends.”

You watched his gaze drift from your eyes to your lips and out of the corner of your eye, you could see his hand fall away from the wall and reach out for you. As his fingers tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, your eyes fluttered shut and by the time you forced them open again, he had stepped away from the bed.

You sat up and almost jumped to your feet before you remembered your ankle. It wasn’t broken or particularly in pain, but it was sore and you wanted to see how long you could get him to carry you around. But you didn’t let him leave just yet.

As he stopped at the dresser and glanced down at the surface, you cleared your throat. “Um, h-how long will it take for you to finish things up?”

Price plucked his bucket hat from the dresser and flipped it around in his hand, glancing back at you with a small smile playing at his lips. He set the hat on his head and stepped out into the hallway. You watched him leave, caught between staring at his bare back and waist—so hot it nearly melted you to the bed—and wanting to call out to stop him. He didn’t give you a chance to open your mouth.

“Get some rest, Princess.”

Those four words, so simple in any other context, lit you from the inside with the hope of sex and you held your breath, listening to his footsteps across the floor of the cabin. Long after he walked back outside and you could hear faint noises from him finishing up clearing away the brush and limbs away from the house, you sat as still as a statue.

Blinking yourself from the daze he’d left you in, you reached down and rubbed the soreness in your ankle, rotating your foot just to make sure. The tips of your fingers brushed over the stubble that’d been growing and you pursed your lips. 

If Price meant what you hoped he meant by showing you...then you figured you could use a shower. In a flash, you were on your feet, limping only slightly as you gathered your clothes and rushed into the bathroom to scrub, exfoliate, shave, and have a proper mini freak. Because if what Price meant was he would show you by kissing you and going down on you and fucking you again, you wanted to be prepared. 

---

Of course, you had no way of knowing that taking care of things would take so long. After your shower and after you were certain you smelled and felt great, you spent about an hour in the bedroom getting some rest, as Price had advised. You’d sat there and made sure your hair was perfect and your legs looked great and your entire body had the relaxed, inviting aura you wanted. 

Every noise outside triggered the butterflies in your midsection to run rampant and your eyes darted to the mirror above the dresser to make sure you looked exactly like you wanted. And you did.

You looked cute.

You looked ready to find out what he wanted to show you.

Of course, that was before you drifted off to sleep laying across the bed with your arm beneath your head. And that was exactly how Price found you hours later.

You weren’t asleep for long but long enough that you hadn’t heard him come in or shower. It wasn’t until he brushed the back of his fingers across your cheek that you realized you weren’t alone in the bedroom anymore. 

Blinking the sleep from your eyes and your mind, you pushed off the bed and put a hand to your forehead with a frown. “Shit,” you mumbled. “I fell asleep.”

Though the sun was setting, there was enough light left to bathe the room in a faint grey and you tilted your head back up to look at him. He was dressed—a fact that made you frown again. His shirt was dark and he had on a pair of jeans and the hat sat on his head, drawing a small smile across your lips.

“Are you hungry?”

You shook your head. You were hungry, but not for food and you didn’t want to even hint at anything that might take him away. 

“I was waiting for you to come back in.”

“I know.”

With your palm, you rubbed at your eye and slide back on the bed, giving him room to sit down if he wanted to. He didn’t. 

“Is this the part where you tell me why we can’t be friends?”

Price sighed and you glanced up at him. He took a step to the side of the bed, closer to where you were now sitting against the pillows but didn’t sit down. 

You hadn’t really expected him to if you were being honest.

The echoes of his words that night, telling you this was a mistake, raced through your head all over again and you glanced at your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was a mess now, the damp strands sticking to the side of your head. Warmth flooded your face and you suddenly felt so stupid for putting in so much effort for what could potentially be nothing but more heartache. 

You opened your mouth, though you had no idea what you wanted to even say, but didn’t get to speak.

Price took you by surprise by sliding his knee on the bed. His fingers curled around your ankle—the one you’d twisted—and he gently, carefully moved it until there was enough space between your legs for him. 

Your breath froze in your throat and you slid a bit further down the pillows, opening your legs to let him crawl toward you. You hadn’t noticed him even taking the hat off until it dropped to the bed beside you and you clamped your teeth around your bottom lip. 

Fire zipped across your body like electricity, compelling you to touch him and you did just that, sliding your hands up his arms as he put his hands down on either side of your head, feeling every inch of his muscles. Your gaze drifted over his chest and shoulders stretching his shirt, taking in the delicious sight of him hovering over you. With a hand on either side of your head, Price peered down at you, his eyes finding your lips in the dim light. 

“You want to know why we can’t be friends?”

You gave a soft nod of your head, too dazed by the feel of his body heat pooling right at your center to really concentrate on a conversation. 

He sighed and lowered his head until his face was so close to yours, you could feel the warmth of his breath across your lips. “This is why.”

He pressed into your center, sucking a breath from your lungs. Even through the fabric of his jeans, you could feel his hardness and if the bed wasn’t keeping you up, you’d have melted right to the floor. Your fingers curled around the fabric of the shirt across his shoulders and you dropped your head into the pillows beneath you, eyes fluttering shut. 

Price gave you no time to fully react. He slid a hand beneath your head and took control, slanting his mouth against yours in a kiss that instantly stole your breath away. It was so different from the first time he kissed you. That night had been all pent-up lust and craving, devouring as much as you could because you were too afraid to stop but this…this was slow, full of a building heat and passion, and Price was taking his time, savoring every brush of your lips and taste of your tongue.

The warmth of his palm against your jaw, so delicate he was barely touching you, only made you crave more. With the arch of your back, you ground your hips against his, desperate to feel him press into your center, and Price moaned into your mouth. You drank it in, loving the sound of it. The only time he broke the kiss, a mere two seconds that you protested with a whine, was to strip the shirt off his body. 

In an instant, his scent filled your senses and your hands couldn’t stay away too long.

As desperate as you were to feel him inside you, things were different—slower this time. You wanted to take your time and touch him as much as you could. The tips of your fingers traced the muscles along his ribs down the flat of his stomach and the line of hair that led you from his navel to the button of his jeans. You curled your fingers around the waist of his jeans, loving the quiet sound of approval he made, and brushed your thumb across the button.

And with a quick twist of your fingers, it popped free and you slid the zipper down. Price let you continue but every so often, when he particularly liked something you did—like the brush of your fingers behind the waist of his jeans—he would moan and nip at your bottom lip and the delicate touch of his hand on your jaw would slip to your neck. He sank his fingers into the hair behind your head and you pushed your hand between his jeans and boxers, finding his cock stretching the fabric.

God, he was so warm…You were burning up just being this close to him but you were desperate for the heat. 

You palmed the length of his cock and Price broke the kiss, dropping his forehead to your shoulder as he groaned. His hair was still a bit wet from his shower and cool against the heated flesh of your neck and jaw. The shudder that rolled across his body brought a smile to your lips and you spread your hand down and back up his length. 

“Price,” you whispered, staring up at the ceiling. He didn’t answer, too focused on the way you stroked him through his boxers. “I don’t want to be your friend.”

Biting your bottom lip, you dipped your hand beneath the waist of his boxers and curled your fingers around his cock. His size made your eyes roll back in your head a bit. You’d almost forgotten how big he was. 

Big and thick and just right.

With one hand, he reached down and pushed his jeans lower, giving you room to pull him free, and if his face wasn’t pressed into your shoulder, you’d have loved to get a good look at him. You closed your eyes and continued to stroke him, applying just enough pressure to pull gasps from his throat. 

As badly as you wanted to keep making him make those sounds, you wanted more of him—needed more. He seemed to sense your newfound urgency at the same time and lifted his head from your shoulder.

His blue eyes were clouded with lust and a desire so hot you could feel it burning through you with just a single glance. You pulled your hands free of his boxers and hooked your thumbs beneath the waistband of your shorts. Just as you lifted your hips to push them down, Price slid his hand under your back but before either of you could get too far, a noise from the window made you both freeze.

Ding!

Your eyes widened and Price was nearly breathless as he stilled over you, his fingers splayed across your spine. For a few beats of your racing heart, neither of you moved, waiting for each other to come to their senses. 

The message could be from your father or something important.

It could also be Jenna checking in.

Either way, you weren’t sure it was enough to make you want to stop.

And as Price’s gaze slipped to your lips, you realized he didn’t want to stop either. 

Choosing to ignore the notification, he pulled you up off the bed with one hand and seared your lips with a kiss. You arched into him and picked up right where you left off, pushing your shorts down over the swell of your ass. Halfway down, he helped and by the time they were around your knees, Price had rolled you both over so he was on his back and you were straddled across his lap. 

You could feel his jeans, wide open with his cock still straining the fabric of his boxers, at your center and you weren’t sure whether you wanted to take in the sight of him lying beneath you for just a moment or get him completely naked. Your fingers trailed down his chest, raking over the hair on his muscles and down the length of his stomach as you rolled your hips over him.

Price groaned, his head pushing back into the pillows. Arousal shot through you at the sight of his eyes slightly rolling back in his head and you leaned forward, grinding your center over the length of his cock again.

You were fairly certain that you were soaking him through his boxers at this point but it felt too good to even care. 

His hands found your thighs and his gaze met yours at the same time. He watched as you stripped your shirt off, his eyes and hands finding your breasts once they were bare and it felt so good to have his hands on you. 

Letting your head fall back, you brought your hands to your hair and let him knead the flesh of your breasts, loving the way his fingers pinched your hardened nipples. You could have let him do this for hours.

But when he spoke, his voice low and deep—almost vibrating through you—your eyes snapped open to the ceiling above you. “Princess,” he murmured, dropping one hand to your thighs again. He dipped his fingers to your center and as his thumb found your clit, you sucked in a breath and dropped your head forward to peer down at him. “I don’t want to be friends either.”

The slow swirl of his thumb around your slick clit almost distracted you from his words, but you’d heard him. 

“Good,” you managed to whisper. “Please fuck me.”

It was as if your words flipped a switch in him, cutting off any lingering hesitation and letting the lust between you take over. Price sat up, keeping you pressed into his chest as his fingers tangled through your hair. His lips found yours and he kissed you with a hunger that momentarily caught you off guard. You could taste his desire and it made your own swell up within you.

You slid a hand between your bodies, lifting off his lap to give you room and though you wanted to look down at him as he slid inside you, there was nothing that could break his kiss. You positioned his cock at your center and sucked in a breath as you eased down onto it. Though you were practically drenched, his size was still an adjustment for you and you gripped his shoulders to steady yourself. 

Heat poured from Price’s body into your own, wrapping you completely and making you light-headed. You shut your eyes, your brows pinched in concentration as you rocked your hips forward, sliding him deeper inside you.

Was he supposed to fit you like this? So perfectly that you never wanted this to stop?

You almost didn’t want to move, almost convinced that nothing could compare to this. 

It didn’t take long for Price to change your mind. He broke your kiss as his hands found your hips, guiding you back and forth over his length. 

The way he was moving you, with slow and teasing strokes almost drove you mad. You wanted more but he had set the pace and though you were desperate for release, the agony was almost exquisite. 

Price slid a hand up your side and around your back, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as he stared up at you. Did he know what he was making you feel with that look? The coil of heat in your lower belly was almost eclipsed by the swell of hard-to-ignore emotions that filled your chest.

Your lips parted as he finally let you move a little faster, grinding your hips into his as a thin sheen of sweat covered your chest where it pressed into his. Price ducked his head and brushed his lips across your collarbone, his tongue tasting the salt on your skin and you let your head fall back, spilling your hair down your shoulders. 

You leaned back and put your hands down on the bed, using it to help you move at the new pace you’d set. The feel of Price’s gaze on your body only edged you closer to release and as one hand took you by the hip and the other found your center once again, his thumb pressing into your clit.

At his touch, a shudder rolled through you and you held your breath, brows pinched and lips parted. Your legs quivered around his waist and you knew you were close. And he was taking you closer and closer with every swirl of his thumb over the slick, sensitive bud. 

Every breath was quick and whimpering, your lips moving in silent pleas for release, and Price delivered with every thrust. 

There was no way you could hold on any longer. Even without what he was doing to your clit, you were going to come. 

Pressure and heat flared with an intensity that made you cry out before it unraveled in wave after wave of pleasure. Price pulled his hand away and slid a hand around to your back, bringing you back to his chest as your orgasm pulsed around him. 

You dropped your head to his shoulder, pressing your lips against his skin just as he did to you earlier, and let him use you to find his own release. Which came soon after yours.

He held you tight, one hand between your shoulder blades with the other on your hip and with a moan that vibrated through his chest, Price came inside you. His cock pulsed and filled you completely and your eyes rolled back in your head at the feel of it. And not just that. It was everything about him. The heat of each breath against your chest, the scratch of his beard on your skin, the sweat gathered between your bodies…you loved it all.

A soft, weary smile stretched your lips and you shook the hair from your face as you lifted your head, pulling away enough to look down at him. His hand was sliding to your hair, fingers tangling through the damp strands, and you let him pull you down into a kiss.

A kiss that said more than words ever could, a kiss that mirrored everything you were feeling for him.

You raked your fingers through the back of his head and nipped at his lower lip, smiling at the sound of the soft moan he made. There were a thousand questions you wanted to ask him, most of which involved what this could possibly mean, but you didn’t want to know the answers.

Not yet anyway.

For now, you just wanted this. Nothing else existed in this afterglow. There was no threat, no safe house, no complications. Just two people that might be more than friends.

And just for the moment, you were perfectly okay with no answers, no worries, and nothing else but being in Price’s arms.

---

 

 

Notes:

As I said, I hope you like this chapter..............because things get pretty intense now.