Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“It’s going to be okay, naekkeo. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. We’re totally safe in here. They used to tell people to jump into their fridges back in the day when nuclear bombs were a big threat. And we’re in a massive fucking refrigerator. Nothing’s going to hurt you,” I tell her softly, rubbing my hand up and down her slender back.
She shakes her head, her eyes full of worry breaking my heart, especially as she says, “I didn’t get to call them. I didn’t have a chance to call my babies.”
I swallow thickly, wishing I hadn’t been passive aggressive about nudging her to call and check on her kids only minutes ago instead of just outright telling her she should. “I’m sure they’re safe. You ex lives on the other side of town, right? So they’re probably far enough away from all this. They’re safe,” I try to assure her, but I can see the not knowing is driving her to a panic.
She shakes her head. “And we’re in a metal box, so even if I try to call them right now, it wouldn’t go through.” And then she gasps. “And my sister! She’s at the dealership right now. It’s just a glass building. Where the fuck is she going to take cover, Winston?”
Her saying my first name is jarring and just shows how freaked out she is. Not to mention I’ve never heard her cuss before. If we weren’t in the middle of a tornado, and she was on my lap, wrapped up in blankets in my arms, my scent covering her because she’s swaddled in my coat for any other reason and dropped that F-bomb, I would have the biggest hard-on of the century. But the look of absolute terror in her eyes keeps the blood from flowing directly to my cock nestled beneath her right thigh.
“It’ll be over soon, naekkeo. The second it goes quiet, we’ll run out of here and you can call them, okay? It won’t be long now,” I promise, and I thread my fingers up the back of her dark hair and pull her head against me. She tucks her face in my neck, and I can feel her breathe me in. The moment she exhales, her body relaxes completely against me. I close my eyes, memorizing this moment, taking a mental snapshot of what it’s like to have Cece nestled against me, trusting me to keep her safe. It’s addictive and heady, and I never want it to end.
It’s a weird sensation, being unaware of how much time passes. Added to the fact that I don’t want this moment to end, wrapped up with the woman of my dreams, all while praying for the storm to pass quickly, my mind and emotions are a total clusterfuck of opposing thoughts.
And just as suddenly as everything began, the awful Titanic noise stops and everything goes quiet except for the white noise of the fridge’s hum.
Cece slowly pulls her head out of my neck and looks up at me, her eyes darting down to my lips for a moment before she pulls them back to my eyes. I know… I can just tell… she wants to kiss me just as badly as I want to kiss her. There is no wondering or self-doubt, because I can read it in her expression as clearly as if the words were written across her soft skin.
But I’ll be damned if the first time I kiss her is when she’s petrified, worried about if her children are safe. I won’t let that mar the memory of the first time I claim her lips as mine.
Carefully, I stand up with her in my arms and then set her on her feet, shrugging the blankets off that were around us before stepping toward the refrigerator door. I say a silent prayer just before I open it, hoping the restaurant is still intact.
I breathe out a sigh of relief when I lift my cell’s flashlight and see everything is as we last saw it, perfectly clean and ready for the next day.
Cece steps around me with her phone to her ear. “It’s ringing. That’s a good sign right? It wouldn’t ring if cell towers were down. Come on, come on.” She closes her eyes, and then they pop open and she looks up at me. “Oh, thank God. Mike, are the girls all right?” she asks, starting to pace, and I keep my flashlight on her to light her way. My phone is about to die, so I keep it aimed at her and send a quick text to Marge to make sure everything turned out okay over their way.
Marge: Yep, went right past us. We’re all right.
“Okay, um. I’m going to start heading home. I haven’t even looked outside yet, so I don’t know what roads are like, but I’ll text you when I get there and let you know it’s okay to bring them,” she says, and then she ends the call without responding to whatever it is he tells her. “The girls are good,” she breathes, and I have just enough time to take two strides toward her before she collapses against me as I catch her in my arms.