Storming Love:Flood by Cherie Noel

Author:Cherie Noel [Noel, Cherie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
Publisher: MLR Press
Published: 2015-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOUR

Sam heard the creek before he got close to the place it cut back toward where Patric said the cabin stood. Water ran through a deep cut in the land. On the other side Sam could make out Beckensall Ridge and a building of some kind. Squinting and racking his memory for what the structure might be, Sam nearly crowed with delight when it came to him. A barn stood at the top of the ridge, so close and impossibly far away. Patric crept up on silent feet, squeezing Sam’s shoulder as he passed. Sam braced himself for a snide comment.

“Don’t worry, Sam. I recognize where we are now. We’ll definitely make the cabin before full dark gets here. And I’ll eat my hat if Lockie doesn’t have the place stocked with firewood and everything a body could use. That man takes pride in being prepared for disasters the rest of us would never imagine.” Patric glanced back over his shoulder, a lopsided grin turning up his mouth and causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle. Sam was definitely going to hell, because the kind expression and equally kind words only made him want to punch Patric hard, right in the back of his head.

The misery of trudging along with rain and intermittent bits of hail beating down on him seemed interminable, but eventually Sam fell through the door of the promised line cabin. If he was literally right on Patric’s heels, well, he’d blame his desire to be out of the storm. There was no need to equate his being so close with the attraction simmering between the two of them.

Dropping his pack next to the door, Sam immediately dug out dry clothes and set them out for easy access. A cast iron box stove across the room drew Sam’s attention, but the full wood-box off to one side along the outer wall had full on visions of finally being warm and dry dancing through Sam’s head. Stretching both arms over his head, Sam loosed a groan of appreciation from deep in his gut. Patric cocked his head to one side, then cast a narrow eyed gaze over his shoulder. Sam couldn’t help but notice how squatting next to the stove molded Patric’s wet jeans across his thick thighs. Sam’s breath caught in his throat.

Quirking a brow at Sam, Patric chuckled before opening the stove’s door to prep a fire. Sam turned toward the wall with his face burning. Stripping out of his jacket and shirt with shaking hands, he fought to steady his breaths. His long-sleeved green Henley made a sloppy plopping sound against the floor. Sam’s overwrought brain latched on to the sound. Anything to keep from obsessing over the possibility of Patric yet again finding his physique lacking. Sam could still hear the words Patric said six years ago.

“Skinny little thing, aren’t you?”

He’d smacked Sam on his freshly fucked ass, laughed heartily as he stepped back to tuck his cock away—fucker hadn’t even bothered

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