Chapter 1

Chapter One

Wren

“ I s this really where we have to stay?” Christian asks, his light blue eyes moving around the dilapidated motel room. Not like we have options.

Unless we want to die from exposure.

“What, not good enough for his highness?” I ask, my voice coming out far too snarky.

Though I have to admit, the room’s looking pretty bad. The bed is sunken in and there’s a hole in the wall, where snow is drifting in, but it’s shelter. And, like I said, it’s all we got at the moment. We’re lucky the man behind the counter let us stay. The motel was packed with other travelers trying to find shelter from the unexpected blizzard hitting the mountain pass, just like we were.

And now I’m stuck here. With him. Overnight.

The worst guy on planet Earth.

I should never have told Bree that I’d bring him to her wedding. He should have driven his own ass to NorCal. I don’t know why I ever agreed to this. I was drunk at the moment. And high. It’s the only explanation .

“I didn’t say that,” he replies and then points to the hole in the wall. “I…there’s a hole in the wall.”

I move to the small heater that sits near the bed and turn it on, a chill already forming in the air. The heater whines and puffs slightly and I eye it, hoping it doesn’t catch on fire. Then I grab a towel from the bathroom and stuff the hole as well as I can before flopping on the bed.

“See. Fixed it. Now stop fucking complaining.”

His cheeks pinken, and I force myself not to look at him. I hate how hot he is, with that wavy blond hair, those big blue eyes, his broad shoulders, and strong legs. Not that I’ve ever seen any part of him. He keeps himself buttoned up, always wearing slacks and a tie. Looks like some kind of missionary.

That thought drags my mind to the missionary position, my cock sliding in and out of his hole, the way his skin would flush from need, and I cringe at the way my body lights up at the thought. Nope. No. Not ever going there with him.

Not that he’d ever. I don’t even know his sexuality, nor do I care. But I’d bet, with how religious he is, that he’s not gay. And even if he was, he’d never go for a brooding, tattooed, and pierced guy like me. We couldn’t be more opposite, in both physical appearance and attitude.

“Well, what do we do now?” he asks after a long moment of silence.

“Dunno,” I say as I wiggle around on the bed and stare at the sinking ceiling. “Guess we just go to bed.” He eyes the only bed and his cheeks darken even more. “I’m not sleeping on the fucking floor, either. You can, but I fucking won’t.”

I tend to swear more around him. Something about the way he never utters a bad word, probably never has and never will. It makes me want to say fuck three times as much.

“I don’t want to sleep on the floor,” he finally says and I close my eyes, kicking my shoes off and letting them fall to the floor. It’s silent for another moment, the wind picking up outside, the snow pelting the window.

This really is unfortunate, I think. Stuck in this motel room with him, for who knows how long. Hopefully, we can be back on the road and on our way to the wedding tomorrow. But I just don’t know. This was all so unexpected. I knew there was a storm moving in, but being from SoCal, I didn’t expect it to be so bad. Certainly didn’t expect it to snow us in on the one pass we needed to get to where we’re going.

I hear the shower turn on and realize Christian moved out of the main room and is now in the bathroom, giving me a moment to gulp down some deep breaths. I hate how he affects me when I don’t even like him. He bugs the shit out of me with his sweet smiles and his kind eyes and his fucking un-potty mouth. Something about how good he is just bugs me. Nothing more. Nothing less.

And I’m sure he feels the same way about me. Not that he’s ever given me any indication of this, but I bet he does.

Guys like him don’t ever like guys like me.

I huff and pull my clothes off, tossing them onto the chair in the corner and sliding under the scratchy sheets. I always run warm and the cold winter air doesn’t bother me. From inside the bathroom, I hear a yelp and then a murmured, “Gosh, that’s freezing,” before listening to Christian wash himself.

I imagine him naked, his skin covered in goosebumps, his nipples hard and peaked.

I slap my arm over my eyes and breathe through my mouth.

Fuck, don’t think about that. Do not get hard when we’re sharing a bed. That’s the last thing I need.

My cock doesn’t listen, though, and hardens against my thigh, the metal barbel through the tip tapping against the skin of my leg.

“Geez, that was cold,” Christian says a moment later, walking out of the bathroom. I tell myself not to look, but I do anyway. He’s clad in a pair of flannel pajamas, buttoned all the way up to his neck, exposing none of him .

It annoys me all the more. Not that I expected him to sleep in the nude, but still. Bet he’s wearing a chastity belt, too.

My thoughts tumble around in my head, and I give myself a stern mental talking-to. I understand that a lot of this frustration has to do with me being so hot for him and him being completely uninterested.

I don’t stand a fucking chance, and it makes me angrier than I should be.

If I’m not careful, I’ll turn into an incel.

“Yep,” I reply and then fling my arm back over my eyes to make sure I don’t look at him anymore. It doesn’t help. I still see him in my mind, my imagination playing tricks on me.

“Um, I’m going to get in bed now,” he says and I shrug, not looking at him.

The bed dips, and I feel him shiver as he slides between the thin covers.

“Gosh, it’s really dang cold. I’m not good in temperatures like this.”

I peer out from under my arm at him and watch as he plumps his pillow before laying his head down on it, wiggling around as he does, trying to get comfortable.

“Do you usually move around this much in bed?”

The way I say it makes him freeze. For some reason that sounded a little sexual. Or maybe that’s just all in my head. I don’t fucking know anymore.

“Um, maybe. I’ve never slept with anyone before…I mean…well, yeah. I’ve never slept with anyone before. Like that or otherwise.”

I let out a snort and turn toward him, our eyes meeting. His cheeks are pink once more and my dick can’t help perking up once more at the sight. I have this reaction to him every time. It’s so fucking unfortunate.

“Who would have fucking thought, hm? You, a virgin.”

He blinks at me, his thick eyelashes fluttering, and he picks at the sheets beneath him .

“It’s not like I planned it. Or like I’m saving myself for marriage or anything like that.”

I turn away from him so I’m no longer looking at his face. “Yeah, okay. You don’t need to explain it to me. I don’t care.”

Except I do. I fucking want to know. The fact that he’s a virgin gets me all hot and bothered. Actually, scrap that. He makes me hot and bothered all on his own. He could be a virgin or the sluttiest person ever and I’d still be into him.

But something about him being so fucking innocent makes me even hornier.

“I just…I’ve never found the right person.”

Don’t think I don’t notice how he says person and not woman. That only makes my cock harder. Makes it feel like it might have a chance.

“I really don’t fucking care,” I lie.

“Yeah, I know…just, you already don’t like me for some reason, and I don’t want you to think badly of me, I guess. I know you’re probably very experienced.”

“Saying I’m a slut, Christian?”

“Um, no?”

I let out a small laugh, but I don’t address it, so we just lay there, listening to the snowfall outside, trapping us in this damn room until we can escape. But for now, it’s just us. Stuck in here. Close together and sharing a bed.

I feel him shiver and he pulls the sheets up to his neck, his body trembling slightly.

“How are you that cold with those pajamas buttoned up to your neck?” I finally ask when the trembling becomes too much.

“I just run cold, I think,” he finally responds as he continues to shiver. “I’m not anemic or anything. Just…I guess it’s just how I am.”

I sigh and realize that I won’t be sleeping at all with him vibrating next to me. It’s either try to ignore it or do something about it. Which my mind hates, but my body is thrilled about.

“Come here,” I finally bite out .

Christian shivers more intensely. “Huh?”

“I mean, come here. I run warm and you can…fucking cuddle with me or some shit, just so you stop rattling the entire bed.”

When he doesn’t answer, I turn toward him and see his cheeks are that pretty shade of pink. If he keeps this up, his skin is going to melt off.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Why wouldn’t I be sure? You’re obviously freezing.”

“Yeah, but you don’t like me.”

“It’s fine,” I reply, not confirming or denying if I like him or not. Right now, I just want to sleep.

Oh, who am I kidding? I won’t sleep with him right up next to me. Not a fucking wink.

He pauses, hesitating a moment before his body shifts over to mine, curling into my side.

It’s awkward, his large body against my more wiry one, but his cold nose presses against my warm skin and I feel that touch all the way to my dick.

“You are warm,” he whispers, his breath hitting my skin and making me overheat.

“Yep,” is all I can say. I’m trying to keep my dick under control.

He wiggles a little closer and then sighs happily as he presses fully into me. I can feel him, his large muscles, the weight of him, the scent.

Fuck, he smells really goddamn good.

“Sorry, but you’re really cozy,” he says as he throws an arm across my stomach. “Is this okay?”

I don’t know how to answer. If he crawls up on top of me, I may moan like the slut I am.

“Yep,” I finally reply.

My positive response only seems to make him move closer. His leg moves between mine and he shuffles almost on top of me.

Fuck. Fuck .

“Sorry. Gosh, Wren. ”

The way he says my name, almost a moan, makes my dick leak. Fucking hate this for me right now. I don’t even like the guy and he’s crawling all over me.

Oh, who am I kidding? I like him more than I should.

Like this more than I should.

His face tucks into my neck, cold nose pressed against my thumping pulse, and his soft lips a whisper against my shoulder. An involuntary shudder slips through me.

“Sure this is okay?” he asks and I swallow roughly.

“Fucking dandy,” I reply.

It’s not fucking dandy. This is the worst. Christian wiggles all over me, touching me every-fucking-where, and I’m near hyperventilating at the way in which my body responds. Not that he seems to notice. He’s always so fucking oblivious.

Only good thing is his touching me like this is keeping me pumping out warmth. More so than the stupid little heater by our side.

And it doesn’t help that neither of us is asleep. My eyes are wide open as he continues to move all over me and talk.

He never fucking shuts up.

“I wonder how long the blizzard will last,” he whispers as he runs his hands up my chest, bumping over the piercing in my nipple. He fiddles with it and I bite my bottom lip to keep myself from groaning. “I wish we had some signal up here.”

I don’t reply, just let him continue touching me.

For someone so prudish, he sure as fuck is sensual as hell.

“Do you think Bree will be worried when we don’t show up tonight? I know it’s the rehearsal dinner and stuff.” When I don’t answer, he sighs, his hand traveling up to my neck and fiddling with my Adam’s apple. “I bet she’ll look online and see the storm and think we’re holed up in some motel, huh? ”

“Yep,” I wheeze as he shifts up on me a little further. If he moves an inch to my right, he’s gonna feel my hard cock. I swear to fuck, if he comments on it, I’m going to roll him right onto the ground. He can sleep there for all I fucking care.

“It’s weird, huh? Us, sleeping in the same bed. Like this. When before we barely even talked.”

“Yep,” I reply as his hand drifts back to my nipple piercing.

“I had no idea you were pierced in so many places. Did it hurt?” he asks softly, and I swallow roughly once more, my throat clicking.

“Yep.”

“I bet it did. I don’t have any piercings. Or tattoos.”

“You don’t say,” I manage to reply dryly.

“Yeah. My parents wouldn’t allow it.”

I can’t say anything more than, “Hm.”

“Anyway, I know I’ve never said this before because we don’t really talk, but they look good on you. The tattoos and the piercings.”

I can almost feel his blush against my skin, and it only makes my dick leak more. This is really quite unfortunate. Damnit.

“Thanks,” I reply, and he sighs, shifting on me a little more.

“Sorry, you’re just so warm, and I really don’t do well in the cold.”

“You’ve told me that a hundred times. It’s fine,” I grit out, and he sighs again, sounding so fucking innocent in this moment.

“I bet when we tell Bree what happened, she’ll laugh.”

I freeze at that. “Why?”

“Well, because we’re sharing a bed, snowed in on a mountain.”

“And why is that funny?” I ask, feeling angry suddenly. My dick situation is anything butfunny. It’s bordering on dire.

“Just because it’s you and me.”

I stiffen beneath him but he doesn’t notice, his fingers continuing to fiddle with my nipple ring, driving me slowly insane.

“And why the fuck is that funny? You think they’re gonna laugh because someone like you would never go for someone like me?”

He pauses and then leans up, glancing down at me. This position puts his leg really fucking close to my dick and I swear my heathen cock shifts toward him, wanting to be touched.

“I didn’t say that. Why would you think that? Have I ever given you that impression?”

The way his eyes search mine makes me look away, my anger evaporating into embarrassment.

“Just a vibe, is all.”

He huffs and then his hand slips up to my face, turning me back so I’m forced to look at him.

“I definitely don’t think that about you…you’re just…intimidating is all.”

He looks almost shy as he says that, and my heart thumps awkwardly in my chest.

“And I know you don’t like me…”

I meet his stare and see those big blue eyes just watching me intently. Waiting for me to contradict him, but I don’t like him.

I really fucking hate him. His perfect face and his sexy body.

And what a fucking prude he is.

And the problem is, I really fucking hate how much I like him.

“Yeah, okay, you don’t have to say anything,” he says and then snuggles back into me, keeping quiet for far too long.

His silence doesn’t stop him from wiggling, though. He’s practically half on top of me when his knee grazes my hard dick and he freezes. Even stops breathing for a second, too.

“Ignore that,” I say gruffly. “Doesn’t mean shit.”

“Oh. Okay.”

And then he rubs against it some more.

“Seriously, Christian. What the fuck are you doing?”

He pauses and then shifts again, his knee still pressed against my hard cock.

“I um, well…I just…”

His words trail off, and I huff in frustration because that huff of breath hits my skin just right and I nearly burst apart.

“Are you hard because of me?” he finally whispers .

“Hell no. It’s just…biological or some shit.”

“Oh, okay,” he says, but doesn’t stop touching it. It’s almost like he’s fascinated by it.

“Seriously, Christian, stop stroking my cock.”

“I’m not—” he huffs. “I wasn’t.”

“Your knee is stroking it. Are you gay or some shit?” I ask, and he’s quiet for far too long. Then, with a huff, he scoots away from me. I feel the absence of him through my entire body. I’m despondent.

“Sorry about that. I won’t do it again,” he finally whispers, his body now inches away from mine.

I grumble under my breath as he starts shaking again.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s forgotten. Just come back before you freeze to death.”

He’s unsure about laying against me again, but he comes back to me minutes later, his body pressed against mine, his knee dreadfully absent from my dick.

Fucking sucks. Shouldn’t have said anything.

Should have kept my big mouth shut, but no. I had to go and ruin it.

Not that I wanted anything to happen. I still don’t like him, but what better way to kill some time than to get a hand job?

I let out a small laugh at the thought of Christian actually touching my dick. No fucking way would he do that. Ever.

“So, um, do you have a dick piercing?” he asks me suddenly and I freeze, the unexpected question making me laugh again.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Oh, I thought—yeah, I thought I felt something there.”

For some reason, my mouth blurts, “Want to see it?”

“What? No—uh, no way. I just…I was just asking.”

I shrug, like it’s no big deal, and then fucking ream myself out for offering that up. What kind of weird shit is that? I blame it on the snowstorm outside and the fact that I’m stuck in bed with Christian Hart. Maybe the heater is pumping out carbon monoxide and I’m hallucinating this entire thing.

But really it comes down to this man, who I want so badly that I’ve made up reasons why I don’t like him. A balm to my bruised heart. A way to save face.

“Yeah, it’s all good. Bet it would make you really freak out.”

He hesitates a moment. “Why?”

He pauses, really waiting for me to answer, so I huff, “Because you’re a prude.”

He’s quiet after that, almost pondering my statement, and I feel kinda bad for uttering it. No, honestly. I really feel terrible. I need to stop being so mean to him. Because when I think about it, he’s never been anything but nice to me.

“I know I’m a little innocent, but I don’t mean to be. It’s just…”

His words trail off and he sighs.

“What?” I ask as he wiggles around on me once more. He accidentally hits my cock and murmurs an apology before sighing loudly.

“I was just raised in a really conservative, religious home, you know? I wasn’t allowed to try things or experiment.”

I am stunned into silence, feeling even worse about my rude comment, but finally manage to ask, “How strict were they?”

“Um, well, no internet, so no porn.”

“Sad.”

“Yeah, um, and you know I wasn’t allowed to date.”

“Mm, could have been worse.”

“Yeah, but no dating meant no kissing and no…other stuff.”

“And you never thought to break the rules and just do it?”

“I couldn’t. The consequences would have been real bad.”

He’s quiet for a bit and then cuddles up into me a little further, as if taking comfort in my presence.

“It wasn’t worth it. I didn’t really think to even try any of those things until college, but by then, I was too scared.”

“Hold on, Christian. Do you mean to tell me you’re a virgin in all the ways?”

“Um. Yes?”

I huff a laugh and ruffle his hair. “At least tell me you jack off. ”

“I mean…I guess. Yeah, that’s normal, right?”

“Totally normal.”

He moves around on me against, once more almost on top of me. The weight of him is deliciously disgusting and I try like hell not to touch him, but fuck, my hands just travel up his back, bumping up his spine and curling into his hair.

He sighs like he enjoys it and nuzzles into my neck a bit.

“I bet you’re not a virgin, are you?”

“Hell no. I’m the slut you accused me of being,” I reply, and he laughs lightly against the skin of my neck.

“Knew it. How many people have you been with?”

“Dunno. Lost count. But I’ve been with them all. Girls. Guys. You name it.”

“Oh, so you’re um, bisexual?”

“Probably more like pansexual. I like it all.”

He leans up, and our eyes meet. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What’s it like? Being with a guy?”

“Nice. Fun. Aggressive. Love it when someone can throw me around a room.”

“Oh, so you’re, like, a bottom?”

“Vers. I take and receive.”

He wiggles against me again and it’s then that I feel it, the press of his dick against my thigh.

Oh shit. He’s hard.

Is he hard because he’s imagining me taking his dick, bent over and panting, or me rutting in between his spread legs, filling him with my cum?

Oh fuck, I don’t know and don’t know if I care which it is.

For some reason, the feel of his cock against my thigh is making me even harder. Hornier.

Oh hell.

“I, um, well, I guess that’s good then, you know, being versatile.”

“It works for me. ”

My voice is hoarse, a dry rasp, and he must hear it because his fingers travel up to my throat and play with my Adam’s apple again. Dreadful, sexy man. He really shouldn’t be touching me at all.

He’s too innocent, too sweet.

I hate him even more for having this effect on me.

“What’s your favorite position?” he asks, and my dick twitches aggressively.

“That’s not appropriate, Christian. It’s gonna give me ideas. And I don’t know if you want me to have those.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re right. I shouldn’t have asked that. It was so rude of me.”

He sounds embarrassed, the choke of his words almost wet from tears.

I hate that even more than I hate him.

“It’s fine. I just…well, I like them all. But yeah, I like missionary and doggy style. You know what those are?”

“Yeah,” he says and then shifts against me again and I can feel his dick, thick and throbbing against my thigh. He’s fully hard now and damn if it doesn’t make my mouth water.

“I’m, um, sorry. The sex talk is getting me…horny.”

I hold my breath for a moment and then ask, “You like guys, Christian?”

He swallows, his throat clicking. “I mean, I was never allowed to like guys. So I don’t really know, but I do…you know. I like… you .”

I almost swallow my tongue, my ears ringing, my heart nearly throbbing out of my chest.

“Me? What the fuck?”

“I, well, I didn’t mean…”

He’s stumbling over his words now and my dick is nearly bursting through my boxers. There’s no going back. I’m full speed ahead.

“You either meant it or you didn’t,” I bite out and he’s silent for a long time.

“Yeah, I guess… I meant it.”

The only sound after that is the beating of the wind and snow hitting the windows and rattling the doors. Our breathing is labored, and I can feel the thump of his pulse in his neck as it beats frantically.

“I thought you didn’t like me?” I finally say and he huffs a laugh.

“No, I’ve never disliked you. You just make me real nervous. You’re, um, you’re the reason I know I don’t just only want girls.” That last bit is a mere whisper, but I hear it.

I fucking hear it.

“No shit,” is what my stupid mouth utters.

“Yeah, I think it’s all the tattoos. When I saw you at Bree’s apartment, standing there, brooding, I, well, I got all…hot and bothered.”

“Hot and bothered?” I ask and he sighs, almost sounding ashamed of it.

“Yeah. I guess. I had a physical reaction. Have been having them ever since. Even though you don’t like me. ”

I don’t respond because I don’t like him. He makes me feel things; weird, uncomfortable things.

He makes me feel less than as well.

Maybe because he’s so damn good and I’m, well, I’m not. But I realize that’s a me issue and has nothing to do with him.

It’s my insecurity from my past, from growing up with parents who didn’t give a shit about me, and friends who left me behind.

“I don’t hate you.”

He huffs and then wiggles on top of me. “I’m glad because I don’t hate you at all.”

I feel the warmth of his breath on my skin and it heats my entire body.

My hands move up his back again and I thread my fingers through his hair, absorbing the way he melts into me, so responsive, so malleable. I bet I could maneuver him any which way and he’d let me.

I bet he’d be exactly what I want at any given moment.

But I don’t do it, don’t even suggest it, just let him sink into me as I tug on those thick strands and listen as he lets out small moans of appreciation .

He doesn’t sleep and neither do I; the wind and ice whipping against the window, rattling it noisily. It keeps us awake, the two of us warm between the sheets, our bodies pressed against each other. Our own little cocoon.

But eventually, my hands still, cupping his head against me, and he sighs, his breathing evening out. I can feel every part of him against me, the way his pajamas scratch my legs, the way his hard cock is pressed against mine, the tickle of his hair against my cheek.

“You asleep?” I whisper, and he shakes his head.

“No. You?”

“Obviously not.” I wait a minute and then ask, “Why can’t you sleep?”

He doesn’t answer right away, but eventually tucks his face further into me and murmurs, “Don’t wanna say.”

“Why not?” I ask, my voice taking on a teasing note.

“Just…don’t wanna.”

I huff a small laugh and then tug on his hair roughly, forcing his head up slightly and watching as his eyes meet mine.

“I don’t like being kept in the dark. I fucking hate it, Christian.”

He blinks at me, his tongue peeking out and wetting his lips.

“I know, it’s just…” He swallows, and then his gaze dips to my mouth.

“What?” I ask, my heartbeat throbbing in my ears. “What is it? Say it.”

He seems to hold his breath and then his words fall from his lips, hitting me like a train going full speed down the tracks.

“I want you to kiss me,” he whispers, and I can see his blushing cheeks even in the dark.

“The fuck?” I manage to reply, the sound in my ears almost thunderous.

“Yeah.”

“How about you take what you fucking want, Christian, instead of asking for permission?”

He freezes, thinking it over and it feels like an eternity, time skidding to a halt. And then his head lowers, his lips brushing against mine. It’s nothing more than a breeze, a wisp of skin on skin, and then he pulls back, almost panting.

“That all you got?” I rasp.

He looks perplexed, confused. Turned on. “You want more?”

“Fucking kiss me, you fucker,” I say, and then grab his head and smash my lips to his. He grunts as our mouths meet and I thrust my tongue forward, pushing through his lips and brushing against his teeth.

He gasps, his cock twitching against mine, his breathing now a series of short, rapid pants. I push my tongue against his, letting my piercing drag against the slick muscle, and he moans lowly, his body writhing on mine.

My free hand moves down his back and grabs his ass, thrusting him forward, our cocks dragging against each other in a tantalizing dance.

I tilt my head slightly and continue to suck on his tongue, forcing my own into every crevice of his mouth, feeling my dick leak with each exhaled moan he gives. He’s intoxicating. Completely perfect. When he finally pulls away, his lips swollen and spit slick, he looks almost dazed.

“Wren,” he says, and my name on his lips is my undoing.

I lean up and capture his mouth with mine once more, a way of shutting him up, telling him I want this. I want more of it. With him. I don’t hate him at all. I just wanted what I couldn’t have.

But I have it. Right now. I fucking have it.

So I’m going to take it.

I arch my hips up and bring him with me, his body trembling with each upward thrust.

We grind like this for far too long, our breath mingling, our lips stuck together until Christian starts to shake, his hips moving almost frantically and then he pulls off of me, staring down at me as he shudders almost violently.

I know that look, the way the veins in his neck protrude, the way his eyes are almost glazed over. The wetness seeping through his pajama pants and onto my boxers.

“Did you just…”

He swallows and nods, looking almost ashamed.

“I’m so sorry.”

I don’t know what to say, unable to find the words, but when he starts to move up and off me, I stop him with a grip on his wrist.

“Don’t be sorry. That’s fucking hot, Christian. I’m so fucking hot for you right now.”

His lips part, and he blinks down at me before his nose hits mine, rubbing it almost sweetly before he pushes off and jogs to the bathroom. I watch him go, touching the cum-stained part of my boxers, giving my own dick a hard squeeze.

The water turns on and I hear him gasp as he rinses himself off. As he does, I pull my soiled boxers off and throw them to the side before reaching down and stroking my dick at the memory of him.

He better come back naked. He better come back completely nude.

That’s what I want.

I fucking want him.