Page 18

Pearl

The last streaks of orange sunlight were bleeding out across the sky by the time I capped the last paint can and wiped my hands on a rag. My back ached, my knees were stiff, and I was sweating in places I didn’t know could sweat. But the haunted house was coming together. Slowly. Creepily. Perfectly.

Push was still out on the porch, leaning against one of the railings like a watchdog with his arms crossed and his jaw tight. He hadn’t said much all day, just nodded when I passed him and kept his eyes on the woods like the trees might suddenly decide to attack.

I glanced toward the stairs just as Bernice came down from the second floor. She moved slowly, one hand rubbing the small of her back.

“I’m ready to head back to the cabin, girl,”

she muttered.

I laughed under my breath.

“You want to take tomorrow off? We’re ahead of schedule.”

Bernice arched a brow like I was offering her a diamond tiara.

“A day of rest? I’d sell a toe for that.”

“Deal,”

I grinned, tossing the rag into the bucket and setting it aside.

“Go ahead and start heading back. I’ll just lock up.”

Before she could turn toward the door, it opened, and Anchor stepped inside.

He looked... tired. Worn around the edges. His hair was messy like he’d run his hand through it too many times. His jaw was tight, his eyes shadowed, and the second he saw me, something in his expression softened. Just barely.

“Well, well,”

Bernice said, squinting up at him.

“Look who decided to show up like a knight in leather armor.”

Anchor didn’t react.

“I’m just here to walk you back.”

Bernice snorted.

“You gonna tuck us in, too?”

Anchor shifted his eyes to me. Didn’t answer. Bernice rolled hers, muttered something abou.

“kids these days,”

and pushed past him, heading out the door and down the steps.

I turned to him slowly, still standing near the doorway.

“Are you okay?”

I asked softly.

He didn’t speak.

Instead, he stepped forward, threaded his fingers through mine, and tugged me gently out the door behind him.

We didn’t talk.

Bernice walked a few paces ahead, muttering about her hip and the damn cold and how she was gonna sleep in until Wednesday. But all I could think about was the feel of Anchor’s hand wrapped around mine, his warmth against the chill in the air, and the electric buzz between us that hadn’t dulled since that first night.

Bernice veered off to her cabin. “‘Night,”

she called over her shoulder.

“And don’t bother me until Monday unless the house is on fire.”

We both laughed quietly.

I walked up the steps to my porch. Anchor stayed at the bottom, one hand on the rail. I turned to look at him, the shadows from the porch light wrapping around him in soft amber. His eyes found mine. Serious. Hungry.

I didn’t speak.

I stepped back. Opened the door. And walked inside.

I didn’t close it.

He followed.

I kept my back to him as I crossed to the small kitchen. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, whether I should offer him food, or whiskey, or just stand here breathing like an idiot.

I heard the door shut behind him. A click that felt far louder than it should have been.

I kept my back to him as I stayed in the kitchen, pulses of anticipation firing through me. Rustle of cloth. I didn’t need to turn to know where he was.

Then, silence. And finally, warmth.

His arms slipped around my waist and drew me into his body. Heat radiated from him so intense I thought it might burn straight through me.

“Hungry?”

I whispered, tilting my head back.

“Ravenous,”

he murmured against my neck before sweeping his lips across my skin.

That’s when the world melted.

He pressed me against the cool counter, the barrier turning our urges from slow-burning to wildly electric. His lips captured mine, urgent, demanding. I kissed him back with all the need I’d kept in check for days, tongue and breath colliding in fierce longing.

I braced my hands on the counter as his hands roamed over my body, down my sides, grabbing and claiming, needing me like oxygen. My knees slid apart, ready.

I turned in his arms, and he backed me against the counter. His chest pressed into mine, and his hands slipped under my shirt as he broke our kiss with a gasp of need.

We paused only to strip away the barrier between us, my shirt, his cut and tee, until every inch of skin met skin.

He lifted me onto the counter just enough to lean into me fully. My legs locked around his waist, and I drew him closer. We fit together perfectly, and a gasp escaped my lips.

We moved together. His rhythm was steady, powerful, as if he’d been made for this, for me. My head dropped back as my body arched into his.

He kissed me in between thrusts. His mouth hot on mine, and our breaths ragged and synced.

My fingers tangled in his hair as every stroke sent sparks across my skin. He whispered my name, low and throaty, and I couldn’t help but moan.

I felt him smile between breaths, maybe surprised at how much fire we’d found, even in the dark.

I came first, as my body quivered in his arms. My breath stuttered and nails dug into his skin. He slowed, grounding me, until his own tension built tighter and tighter.

When he found release, his voice was raw and deep, a guttural moan of my name that shook the room.

We held each other through the aftershock. Our chests heaving, and sweat shining where our bodies met. The only sound was our breath.

He pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“Yeah… that fed me, Pearl.”

I nestled closer. “Me too.”

We stayed like that. Warm, tangled, and whole in the small kitchen as the night deepened outside.

Anchor

The morning light filtered through the curtains, hazy and golden, enveloping the cabin in a lazy warmth that matched my own feelings. I stretched, arms behind my head, and watched her.

Pearl.

She stood in front of the small kitchenette, barefoot, wearing nothing but my T-shirt. It barely covered the curve of her ass, and I wasn’t sure if that was mercy or torture. Her hair was still a little wild from the night before, and every time she moved, the shirt pulled tight across her hips.

She reached up to grab a coffee mug and glanced over her shoulder at me. Her cheeks flushed the moment she caught me staring.

“Like what you see?”

she asked as her lips tugged into a smirk.

I didn’t answer. Words felt useless.

I just rolled out of bed, naked, and walked straight to her.

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move away, didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. She stayed perfectly still as I stepped in front of her and wrapped my arms around her waist. I bent low, brushed my lips over hers, slow and lingering. A kiss that said everything without needing to spell it out.

We broke apart just long enough for her to whisper.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

My hand slid down to her ass. Full, round, and more than a handful. I gave it a squeeze and groaned.

“Fuckin’ perfect,”

I murmured against her neck.

“Overflowing handful. Just the way I like it.”

She shivered and leaned into me.

“It’s nice to know you like me. It’s hard out there for a curvy girl.”

“Not anymore,”

I said, and tightened my hold.

“Because I’m the only one you need to worry about now.”

She wrapped her arms around my neck and looked up at me with that big, open stare.

“Pretty sure that should terrify me,”

she said.

“but really all it does is turn me on… and make me want to take you back to bed.”

I grinned and spread my arms wide.

“I’m not stoppin’ you, doll.”

Her fingers ran down the middle of my chest, slow and teasing.

“You don’t have important club things to do?”

I did. A hundred damn things, actually. But nothing that felt more important than the woman standing in front of me.

“Nothing that can’t wait a couple of hours.”

She stepped into me fully, rising on her toes to kiss me again. Slow and hungry, full of everything that had been building between us for days.

And when her hands tugged me back toward the bed, I went willingly.