4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Moore

The sweetest taste of perfection swirls on my tongue as the pretty little thing in my arms kisses the breath straight from my lungs. Her skin is tortuously soft against mine, her body practically molding itself to me. Every sensible piece of me is screaming to push her away, but I can't. I refuse to end this myself, she'll need to do it.

The men around us are cheering like we're the hottest, most entertaining thing they've seen in years—maybe we are. All I know is the fact that they can even see Winter like this, with me or not, makes me want to call the chopper and steal her away right this very second. I growl against her lips, tugging her as close as possible. If people are going to see us, they're going to see me claiming her.

Winter whimpers into our kiss and my hands tighten around her hips. Her helpless sounds of lust taste just as honeyed as her lips. How the hell a man like me is making her this way, I have no idea. I'm not going to question it too hard, at least not while her slippery sweet tongue plunges deeper into my mouth.

As I kiss her back harder, she mewls and I feel it directly in my cock. My balls are heavy and achy, dick straining tightly against my zipper. I'm immediately wondering what her sinful mouth would feel like all over, but especially where I crave it most.

If I don't stop this now, I'll mess up and fuck her right here.

" Fuck , sugar," I rasp, pulling back to look her in the face. When her eyelashes flutter open, her pupils are blown wide and her lids are heavy. There isn't a hint of fear or disgust in her expression. She looks mesmerized.

"Where the hell did you come from?" I ask breathlessly, brushing some of that snow-white hair from her eyes. She leans into my palm, nuzzling her face there.

I want to know how in the world this precious creature ended up in my clutches. Especially since I'm not sure that I'll be able to let her go now.

"I took a nap," she responds, smiling wistfully. "In your bed, I hear."

Not exactly what I was asking, but being reminded of how she looked snuggled into my bed hours ago has me too distracted to care. It took every ounce of will inside of me to leave her in that room. But I couldn't stomach the thought of her waking up to my face and being scared. Or worse, looking disgusted by the memory of kissing me.

She looks far from disgusted now. In fact, she's staring right at my mouth again.

"Was it comfortable? The bed?"

Pathetic question, but they're the only words I can muster up. I haven't felt so thrown off by a single person in… I can't even remember if I have at all.

"It was," she answers, bottom lip being tucked under her teeth as she looks me up and down. "It would have been more comfortable with you there."

Her hands run teasingly slow up my arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in her wake. This girl has far too much power over me and there isn't anything I can do about it. Hell, there isn't anything I want to do about it. She can have me to do whatever she pleases.

"Yeah?" I murmur. Wrapping my fingers around the back of her neck, I use my thumb to tip her head back further. It's not lost on me how fucking small she is—how easy it would be for me to pick her up and never put her down.

I don't care how many eyes I can feel watching us. They better be watching, looking at my hands on Winter and knowing that I'll cut theirs off if they try to do the same.

Winter's eyes flicker to the side and she rolls her eyes at what she sees. "Yes, so we should get me a bowl of soup before Nancy tries to step in here. Feed it to me in bed?" Pouting, she wipes away her smile and begins to look tired. "My body is just so sore…"

Worry creeps in before she gives me a discreet smirk. She's trying to get me alone. In bed.

I'm so fucking screwed.

"Yeah," I husk. "Let's get you some soup, sugar. Can you walk?"

Mischievously, she hums like she's thinking about it. "I can try? Or…"

"You want me to carry you, baby?"

At her shy nod, I scoop her up. My forearm rests against the back of her thighs, easily lifting her from the ground. She tucks herself into my side, softly burying her face into my neck with a sigh.

I don't look at anyone as I wordlessly grab her a steaming thermos of soup and walk the fuck out of the room. As soon as my boots pass into the hallway, I feel her lips move. She peppers gentle kisses all over my neck. They're soft, not hungry, and full of desire. And still, my cock feels like it could break through my zipper.

"You're just a loving little thing, aren't you, sugar?" The question is quiet enough to be private even though no one is around to hear.

"Just for you," she whispers in return. "Do you like it?"

Winter follows her inquiry by sucking ever so gently against the side of my throat. My head swims with dizziness at the intensity of her action. She's going to fucking ruin me right here in this hallway.

Forcing my stride to move faster, my arms tighten around her. "I'm not sure you want me to answer that, sweetheart," I warn, voice husky as I attempt to keep my composure.

"Silly man," she giggles. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know."

A chilled shiver rolls down my spine as her tongue teasingly touches my neck. She's licking me and I'm about to fall to my goddamned knees and beg her never to stop. Her mouth alone is going to make me spiral.

"I like it way more than I should, sugar," I groan.

"And this?" she asks softly, grazing my nape with her blunt teeth.

A groan catches in my throat. Once again, I can't believe this is even happening. Winter should not be here. The rig is a place for men who don't want to be found. Disgruntled, hard men who do better with machinery than they do people.

But her being stowaway is the least of my concerns at this point. She was held here for God knows how long and kept in a fucking closet to remain hidden. She's almost been killed. She watched her father kill himself. And instead of staying in bed to sleep away the pain of these events, she seeks me out to kiss me for being her hero .

No one has ever accused me of being a hero and yet, I can't tell her she's wrong. For all intents and purposes, jumping off the rig's edge to attempt to save her was idiotic. The chances of losing my own life were ridiculously high but even knowing that, I didn't hesitate. There was just something about how she looked out there. So small and alone.

I didn't want her to be alone anymore.

Hero or not, I never imagined saving Winter would lead to this. Maybe a tearful thank you, not this infatuation. An apparent crush that I can't understand but can't force myself to put a stop to. Better men would consider her mental state too fragile to allow anything further to transpire.

I can't possibly be what Winter dreamed about as a girl. The kind of man who looked like a prince and acted as honorably as one. Still, if Winter is intent on touching me, kissing me, and… pursuing me, I'm not going to be stupid enough to push her away.

"You taste so good," she rasps, dragging her tongue from the base of my throat to the bottom of my chin.

Fucking hell. She'll be the death of me with her sweet little mouth.

My shoulders release a bit of held tension as we approach my quarters. I need to be getting her into bed so that she can rest and recover, not imagining how she would react to my tongue on her for a change. I may not be moronic enough to refuse her advances—whatever they may be—but I am protective enough to make sure she's in the state to do it.

I won't allow myself to go too far whilst she's too sore to even stand on her own for too long. I'll have her healthy before I have her writhing under me in our bed.

Shit…

Our. Bed.

I'm already considering it to be ours.

I need a stiff drink immediately.

Getting her into the room is easy, getting her to let go of me, not so much. Her pouts and protests feel like a knife to the gut. It can't be helped. She needs to eat and I can't feed her and hold her at the same time. Not with warm soup.

Eventually, I get her tucked under the comforter, her head propped up enough to eat. The edge of the mattress dips under my weight as I take a seat by her side. Her eyes track my every movement, watching as I unclip a small spoon from the side of the thermos. It's a to-go system that works well for some of the men, and extremely convenient for a time like this.

"It smells nice," she tells me, taking in a breath of air through her nose.

"It shouldn't be too hot to eat," I respond, stirring the liquid. Scooping up a small bit, I blow on it gently before bringing the spoon to her lips.

In a manner that should be considered illegally seductive, she takes the offering, wrapping her lips around some of the metal tool. I would do pretty much anything to feel those pretty pink pillows wrapped around my tool.

Focus .

When she swallows, her throat bobs and my fingers tighten around the spoon. Winter may be small in size, but fuck if she isn't powerful. Everything she does makes me feel like I'm going insane. It's illogical in every way, and intoxicating all the same.

"You called me sweet, but I think you're the sweet one," she muses, a teasing smile on her lips. "Blowing on my soup for me like a proper gentleman. Perhaps there's something I can blow for you later, hm?"

I nearly choke on my tongue but give her another sip of soup before my control snaps. "Where did you learn to talk like that, sugar?"

She chuckles. "I may have been stowed away here for two years, but I went to public high school before that, you know? I know about these things. And I'm a reader. You'd blush at the things I've got on my Kindle, Moore."

Though her words warm my core, I shake my head. "Don't think there's much of anything that could make me blush, sugar."

She grins. "Well, when I get my E-reader back, we can test that." As quick as she says it, her smile vanishes. "I don't have the charger for it, though."

My frown matches hers. "You don't?"

Flushing, she winces with embarrassment. "My… dad , he kept it. As long as I was good during the day while he worked, he would charge it at night for me. Giving me things to do is how he kept me from going mad, I think."

If he weren't dead, I'd kill him again.

But Winter doesn't need me to be angry on her behalf. No, now she needs to think about things that make her happy.

"Things like what?" I wonder, hoping to return her smile.

Thankfully, it's the right question to ask.

"My crafts," she exclaims with the most joy-filled grin. "Slime materials—slime is my favorite, beads and string for bracelet making, some clay and paints. Mostly slime, though. It's not all green and gross like it used to be. Slime is so cute and fun now, you know? I love the way it feels between my fingers! I have a little box of stuff in his room."

Fuck, I need to learn about slime if the topic makes her gush this much.

"How about you finish this up, get some more sleep, and when you wake up, I'll have your box waiting for you?"

"Make it my box and you waiting for me, and you've got a deal, handsome."

I can't hide my snort.

She scowls at me. "What about that was funny, exactly?"

Wincing, I shake my head. "Wasn't laughing at you, sugar."

"What then?" she demands, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Handsome is a bit of a stretch," I say lighty, offering her more soup.

She rejects it, glaring at the spoon. "Don't talk about my hero that way, Moore." Her words are firm and come out bordering on threatening. "You are obscenely handsome."

It's difficult not to scoff at the proclamation, but I refrain.

"You don't see it, do you?" she asks, looking glum.

"It doesn't matter?—"

"I'll make you see it," she declares, interrupting me.

Somehow, I don't doubt that she will. And me being hopeful about her words? That's the oddest thing that's happened today.

"If you say so, sugar," I reply helplessly.

Her lips lift into a smirk. "I say so."