Page 54 of Don't Leave Me Behind
Would’t forget my pickles for the world
This is what Clayton Traeger reduces me to: a simpering little girl who smiles at electronic devices. Ugh. I need to get out of here. Picking up my phone, I call Daniel Riley back and schedule an interview.
He Who Shall Not Be Named
I’m heading your way. Clock starts when I park.
I don’t reply,I’ve been spending way too much time overthinking a hiding spot all day. The copse of trees where I hide my Jeep is too obvious. But then, would he know it was too obvious and check the one on the opposite side of the property instead? Hiding in the cellar would probably work. The pointof stealth isn’t to hide in one spot; it’s to run the timer down without being caught. One year, I followed Toby and hid in the first place he looked, so he wouldn’t think to circle back and check again.
It used to be all about knowing your opponents and fucking with them. I don’t know how Clay will play now, but I’m sure he’s already running scenarios through his head. I’m still not sure which direction to go; limiting my parameters to a mile around the cabin makes it hard when the cabin is surrounded by a wide open space.
Throwing open the cabin door, I decide to let my feet direct me. I’m not surprised when they carry me toward the Jeep. The trees out here are small; they never progressed past pole trees. This whole plot used to be pastureland, so big groups of trees weren’t a priority. It’s my luck that there’s a downed pile of trees with enough space between them and the ground for me to hide underneath. I toss some loose branches on top, hoping it looks natural and not manmade, before I wiggle under the tree and wait.
I hear Clay drive by, wheels churning up gravel as he slows to a crawl past the copse of trees. Fucking asshole is cheating. He’s not supposed to look before he parks! I can’t call him out on it because he’d know I was here. Sneaky bastard.
He Who Shall Not Be Named
Ready or not baby girl
A thrill shoots through my body. My shoulder shivers in anticipation. It isn’t long before Clay’s footsteps pound through the tree line. He circles my Jeep, whistling in a high-pitched, creepy voice. I’ve heard the whistle before. I’m struggling to remember which horror film it might be from before I realize I no longer see Clay, and I can’t hear him either.
That’s when I realize he was being loud on purpose. Hewanted me to know where he was, so he could distract me.Shit.I sit up on my elbows as quietly as possible, trying to peer around the branches I tacked across the top of these trees.
“Where the fuck—” Big, strong hands grip my waist, hauling me backward as I scream. It’s the only logical thing to do when an unseen entity pulls you backwards out of a hiding spot.
Clay’s laughter fills the grove, his breath hot against my ear as he manhandles me away from the tree. I can’t fight my own giggles as I kick my feet in the air, realizing he’s got me completely off the ground. I halfheartedly pound on his arms; I’m not even sure I want him to let me go.
“It’s cute you think that will work,” he huffs into my ear, his arms tightening like a vise around me.
“I’m not trying to hurt you.” I grin, tipping my head back to look at him. The smile he’s wearing takes my breath away. It’s beautiful the way his eyes are lit. He’s alive, happy. I reach back and rest my palm on his cheek, running my thumb along his cheekbone. Clay’s eyes flutter close, his head tilting into my hand.
Lowering my feet to the ground, he spins me around. His hands cup my face. “Hey, beautiful.” That soft, unguarded smile takes over his face.
“Hey, Cowboy.” I bite my lip, feeling giddy when his eyes dart away, distracted. Shoving his chest as hard as I can, I watch him topple over the downed trees behind us. He hurls obscenities as I haul ass back toward the cabin. “The pickles are mine!” I shout over my shoulder, and his laughter echoes after me.
“Not a chance in hell!” He’s gaining on me, booming footsteps crashing through the underbrush behind me. I’m nearly at the cabin when a giant body slams into mine. The force of it knocks me right off my feet. Clay spins us, catching the brunt of the fall as we collide with the ground.
“Oh my God!” I can’t stop giggling, looking down at him as he realizes how hard he hit the dirt. “You are going to feel that tomorrow.”
He gasps, struggling for air as I press my body against his. “Fucking right I will.” He gives me a goofy grin. “Worth it. I won those pickles fair and square.”
My eyes widen as I glance up at the deck, spotting a bag of food from the Rail sitting outside the door. I look back down at him, grinning like a madwoman.
“Uh-uh.” He flips me over, his big body pinning me to the ground before I have a second to realize what’s happening. His hand rests behind my head, keeping my skull from smacking into the driveway.
I’m breathless, chest heaving from sprinting to the cabin, his proximity not exactly helping either. When he looks down at me, something carnal and hungry sparks in his eyes. I feel that spark all the way down in my core, lust and need surging through my blood.
“Fuck it?” I ask, my eyes dipping down to his lips.
“Fuck it,” he breathes, his mouth crashing down into mine. I moan when his tongue sweeps in. My body is losing all ability to hold still as my insides are set on fire with need. He commands my mouth, tipping my head to the perfect toe-curling angle. Clay presses his hips forward, pinning his erection into my abdomen. I wish I were a little taller, wish that monster he’s got tucked inside his Levi’s was hitting between my thighs, rubbing the ache that’s building up in my core.
I’m panting harder, my body writhing by the time he pulls away. He rears above me, using his elbow to stabilize himself. His hand still protecting my head. His eyes drag over every inch of my face. They move lower, taking in the way our bodies are pressed together from the waist down. I feel him grow harder between us. His heated gaze comes back up to my face.
“Your body is insane.” His muscles shift, the left side of his body digging into mine as his right hand glides along my side, the warmth of his skin bleeding through my thin leggings. I gasp when he reaches higher, touch grazing my ribs, his big, rough hand coming up to cup my breast. “So goddamn perfect,” he mutters when his thumb brushes over my nipple, hips bucking beneath him.
“Clay,” I breathe a quiet plea, my voice breathy and full of need.
Stormy grey eyes come back to mine, his lips tipping up into a smile. “You can have the pickles. I’m hungry for something else.”
