Chapter 1: Shelter in the Storm
The rain was a relentless beast, hammering against the tin roof of my camper like a thousand tiny fists. I was sprawled on my narrow bed, a half-empty beer in hand, when the knock came—sharp, desperate, cutting through the storm’s roar. I groaned, figuring it was some lost hiker or a neighbor needing a jumpstart. But when I swung the door open, I damn near dropped my drink.
There she stood, drenched to the bone, her dark hair plastered to her face, water streaming down her sharp cheekbones. Her white tank top clung to her like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination—curves that could stop traffic and a glare that could kill. She wasn’t shivering, though. No, she looked pissed, like the rain had personally insulted her.
“Got room for a drowned rat?” she snapped, her voice low and rough, dripping with sarcasm. “Or are you just gonna stare at my tits all night?”
I blinked, caught off guard by her bite, then smirked, stepping aside. “Come in before you flood the whole damn forest. I’m Jace, by the way.”
She brushed past me, her shoulder grazing mine, leaving a wet streak on my shirt. “Rory. And don’t get any ideas—I’m not here for a cozy campfire chat.” She peeled off her soaked jacket, tossing it to the floor with a wet slap, revealing toned arms and a no-nonsense attitude. “I just need a place to crash until this shitstorm passes.”
I shut the door, the small space suddenly feeling smaller with her in it. “Only got one bed,” I said, nodding toward the rumpled mattress at the back. “You’re welcome to it, but I’m not sleeping on the floor.”
She arched a brow, her green eyes flashing with challenge. “Oh, I don’t need charity. I can handle sharing—if you can keep your hands to yourself.”
I chuckled, leaning against the counter, crossing my arms. “Darlin’, I’m a gentleman until I’m not. Your call.”
Rory snorted, kicking off her muddy boots. “Keep dreaming, cowboy. I’ve handled worse than a horny camper guy in a tin can.” She started peeling off her wet tank top, no hesitation, revealing a black lace bra that made my throat go dry. “Got a towel? Or am I air-drying?”
I tossed her one from the shelf, trying not to stare as she scrubbed her hair, her movements sharp and deliberate. “You always this bossy, or is it just the rain making you a pain in the ass?” I teased, popping open another beer and offering it to her.
She snatched it, taking a long swig, her lips curling into a wicked grin. “Stick around, Jace. You might find out I’m a pain in more places than that.”
The air crackled between us, charged like the storm outside. We bantered back and forth, each jab sharper than the last, until the beers were gone and the tension was thick enough to cut. She’d stripped down to just her bra and panties to let her clothes dry, and I couldn’t help but notice every damn inch of her—strong thighs, the curve of her hips, the way her skin glistened from the lingering dampness.
“Alright, enough bullshit,” she said finally, standing and pointing at the bed. “We sharing or what? I’m not freezing my ass off while you play tough guy.”
I shrugged, pulling off my shirt and tossing it aside, revealing the hard lines of my chest. “Fine by me. Just don’t hog the blanket.”
We climbed in, the mattress creaking under our weight, her bare skin brushing mine as we settled. She turned on her side, facing me, her breath warm against my shoulder. “Don’t get any funny ideas,” she warned, but her voice had a playful edge now, her eyes glinting with something dangerous.
“Too late,” I shot back, my voice low, my body already reacting to her nearness. I could feel the heat radiating from her, the scent of rain and something wild on her skin. “You’re the one pressing that fine ass against me.”
She laughed, sharp and bold, shifting closer until her lips were inches from mine. “Oh, please. If I wanted to tease you, you’d be begging by now.”
My hand slid to her hip, testing the waters, and she didn’t pull away. Instead, she pressed into my touch, her gaze daring me to make a move. “Careful, Rory,” I growled, my cock already hard, straining against my jeans. “I don’t beg. But I do bite.”
Her smirk was pure fire. “Good. I like a challenge.” And with that, she closed the gap, her lips crashing into mine, hungry and fierce, her tongue demanding entry as her nails dug into my back. The storm outside was nothing compared to the one igniting between us, and I knew we were seconds away from tearing into each other like animals.
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