Page 7 of Hide From Me (Chaotic Love #3)

Four

Raylen

The side of the road

“Stop. This isn’t funny,” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest to combat the cold seeping into my bones from the light rain.

At least that's what I’ll continue to tell myself—that it’s only the weather making a chill run down my spine and not the fact that I feel like prey caught in a trap.

My heart is racing so fast that I feel like it might burst through my ribcage.

“It’s not?” His voice rumbles, but this time, it sounds like it’s coming from behind me. My head quickly turns in that direction. “That’s odd. Most people think I’m funny. I don’t know if I should be offended or turned on.”

“What—?” My head darts toward my car, as it sounds like he’s coming from that direction, but my attempt is futile.

“Here are the rules, baby.”

I can't decide which pet name I like more at this point. When he calls me “baby,” it makes me want to climb up his body like he’s a tree.

However, when he says “sunshine,” it makes my entire being want to melt, even though I’d never admit it.

It makes me feel that silly, idiotic sensation of being seen as more than just some storm cloud rolling in.

“You’re going to hide. You’ll stay quiet and do your best to make sure I don’t find you—”

“Hide-and-seek?” I scoff. “What are we, twelve?”

“Good, so you know the rules but I'll add one to the originals, yeah?”

This big stupid gorgeous son of a –

“If you get scared, you’ll say ‘nightmare.’ You'll say the same thing if I do something you don’t like. Vice versa. If I don’t like something, I’ll also say so.”

Wait, is he giving me a safe word? My breathing shallows.

This is far from casual. This feels like something out of one of those books Jake’s sister, Laura, always tries to get me to read.

I say “tries,” but I may have a secret stash in my closet so that when they come snooping, they can’t find them.

“Now it’s your turn.” His voice is so close that it feels like I could reach out and touch him.

“My turn for what?” I feel like an idiot for not being able to understand such a simple question, but my mind is too scrambled to process anything right now.

“For rules. This isn’t a one-way street, sunshine.” I swallow hard and reach out my hand, only to connect with something hot to the touch and incredibly firm. A warm hand clasps over mine, and I growl, jerking my hand back due to the sparks it sends through my skin.

This may sound thrilling—everything I like: dark, twisted, and questionable—but this jerk is treating my rare cry for help as if it’s something to be brushed off. I mean, seriously, who works at this time of night? I don’t believe him, and maybe that's my problem, but I can’t help it.

“Uh-uh.” He tuts, gripping my wrist and tugging me closer to place my hand back on his chest. The pull is calming, not one that makes me want to shield my head or run in the opposite direction, but the one that makes me want to lean into him so he can shield me from the light drizzle and subtle boom of thunder in the distance.

Everything about him feels safe, caring, and soft, yet, being around him now, I sense a threatening presence.

It’s intimidating, wrapping around me like a dark cloud. So, why am I not scared?

“Don’t kiss me,” I say, and he growls in response. I’m thankful he can’t see my smile from his irritation, but my smile fades as he drags my hand lower to the hard planes of his abdomen, making my fingers dip and rise with each chiseled muscle .

“Sorry, not sorry, but it’s too intimate.

” I shrug, trying to hide how my entire being is begging to drag my hand a little lower to see if I can work him up just as much as he does me.

He lets out a heavy breath that seems to brush against my lips, but there’s no way he’s that close; I would’ve noticed or heard him step closer.

“Specify kissing, baby,” he mutters, and I'm acutely aware that he has, in fact, gotten closer at some point because the tip of his nose brushes against my jaw.

“On the mouth and nothing further than third base for now.” I purposely leave out the fact that I’d prefer to see what I’m working with first. Does that sound snobby? It has been a while, and if anyone is going near my vagina, I want to make sure it’s worth it.

“Anything else?” Moe's voice drops to a low rumble as he lets go of my hand; I don’t pull away. Swallowing hard, I try to categorize my thoughts, but one keeps ringing louder than the rest.

“Please don’t choke me,” I whisper so quietly that I’m worried he might have me repeat myself. I know many women like it, but I can’t bring myself to try it. I don’t like the idea of someone holding my life in their hands… again .

His chest pushes against mine, and his fingers trace down my spine to the high curve of my arse.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sunshine.” He mutters like he can read my thoughts, but I know he doesn’t know and never will. That’s too deep. His hand trails lower until he’s cupping my arse and tugging me closer. I know now I definitely get him just as worked up.

“Aren’t you going to count?” I grumble, shoving at his abdomen, but he doesn’t budge.

“I will. I’ll need a blindfold first, though. You wouldn’t want me peeking, would you?” His finger traces the hem of my jeans lazily before slipping into the fabric.

“I don’t keep rags on me from the diner if that’s what you’re looking for back there,” I grunt as he fists the lining of my underwear. My eyes have adjusted enough to barely make out his silhouette.

“This’ll do.” With a firm yank, I'm yelping and shifting to my toes. There is no possible way he just did that. I stumble back, dipping my hand into my pants to feel the harsh burn against my skin. That was my favorite pair of lace underwear, too.

“What is wrong with you?!” I snap, but he starts counting with a laugh.

“One,”

“Where are you?” I hate how my voice shakes with both arousal and fear. I reach for him, needing something to stabilize myself.

“Two. You better hide, sunshine.”

It feels like everything has finally caught up to me, and I’m starting to realize the gravity of the situation.

I stumble over the rubble of the gravel road until the surface turns soft, and then I take off running.

God, I already hate that I agreed to this.

How could anyone think this is fun? Those books lied to me.

The ankle of my jeans goes damp from the tall grass, and rain pelts my face as I rush toward the bit of light peeking through some trees at the edge of the field.

This is the worst possible place to do this, but there's no backing out now.

“Five. Hide, baby hide.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” I gasp as I stumble into what feels like a line of bushes.

How am I supposed to hide in a field like this?

Squinting against the drizzle that is quickly turning into a downpour, I look around for any sign of light.

My spooky ass house is just a mile away.

If I can identify the trees lining the area in the direction of my home, I might be able to run there.

“Fifteen,” the word echoes in the vast field, taunting me. Regaining my composure, I push my hair from my face and tilt my head to the sky to feel the storm rolling in. Logically, I know I won’t be able to run that far that quickly, so my only hope is to reach the wooded area .

I’ve run from scarier things than him and made it out without a scratch. I'm not like these other little girls he plays with–I'll fight, I'll bite, I'll kick and scream… or at least I like to think I will.

“You're not counting!” I call out. It’s silent for a long moment, so I take the opportunity to look around; a small beam of light filters through the scattered darkness.

With a newfound sense of determination, I stand and stretch my legs.

If he could see me, I’m sure he’d think I was crazy, but I’m not about to pull my hamstring for this idiotic idea.

“Thirty.” The word is spoken so quietly that it hardly registers in my ears, but it’s enough to cause a yelp of surprise to escape my throat, and my feet take off running again.

With each footfall, my shoes slosh in the mud, but the sound quickly changes to the crunching of leaves as I draw closer to the filtered light.

The open space gives way to branches, and leaves turn to sticks beneath me. For a split second, I glance back to see if I can locate him; when I turn my gaze back forward, the light has disappeared. I don't know how or when I changed direction, but it must have happened with the turn of my head.

“Sunshine?” Moe calls out, and I curse under my breath. Sweat forms on my lip, so my tongue darts out to rid myself of it. Even with the burn forming in my lungs, I can’t deny the ripple coursing through my abdomen, making my thighs clench. It’s as thrilling as it is scary.

“Come on now, lass. Even if I didn’t see your footprints, I’d still be able to find you.”

I growl lowly in frustration at his mocking tone and duck behind a tree branch. What did he expect me to do? Build a feather duster from my now-gone underwear and wipe my footprints away?

“You may seem all dark, but you shine, baby. Your light calls me home.” His words whisper through the air.

I want to relish how sweet they sound, but I can’t when a crack of thunder startles me enough that I drop to the ground.

The bark digs into my back as I push myself as far into the trees as possible, trying to blend into my surroundings.

Covering my mouth, I strain my ears to listen for any movement, but all I can hear is the rain filtering through the tree limbs and the leaves whistling in the wind.