Whistler by K.L. Savage

“Cupcake, wake up. Come on, Charlie, wake up.”

My shoulder shakes and I turn over, taking the comforter with me and pulling it over my head. No. I’m tired. I’m exhausted. I’m finally able to sleep knowing I’m not bound to a monster. I tried staying awake for Whistler but one hour led to three, which led to six, and I got tired of pressing my ear to the door, so I crawled into bed and fell asleep.

“Cupcake.”

I groan and kick the person rude enough to try to wake me.

“Ow, damn it. My dick,” the intruder rasps.

But the intruder sounds a lot like Whistler.

I bolt forward and my eyes open wide when I see him bent over, his hands cupping his cock, and he coughs. “Oh my god, Whistler. I’m so sorry.” I crawl onto my knees and crawl closer to him. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing. I was asleep and noticed your voice, yet didn’t, and I get kind of violent when I’m woken up unexpectedly…it’s been a while since I’ve done that.” Before Kenneth was the last time I had hit someone. I gave my dad a black eye one time.

“That would have been good to know,” he chokes. “I’m fine. I just need to find my balls.” He stumbles across the foot of the bed and vanishes into the bathroom.

The water turns on and I hear a groan, hopefully of relief. “Did you find them?” Am I allowed to ask? I feel so bad. What can I do? I was asleep.

“We’re good. We’re great. One. Two. All here and intact.”

I can barely understand him since the door is shut, but I get the gist and spread my arms out like a bird, then fall back onto the bed. My head hits the pillow and I stare up at the ceiling, replaying the information that’s been given to me.

Not about his balls, but about me not being married. I should be mad or maybe sad? A normal person would be sad, right? I’m not. I’m not sad, not even a little, but I am pissed off at Kenneth for lying to me, for putting me through hell only to decide to keep me there.

But I’m so relieved. I’m so happy.

Happy.

Something I haven’t been since the day I married Kenneth.

I’m ready to move on. I’m ready to live. I don’t want to be afraid of shadows anymore. I don’t want to be afraid of anything.

The bathroom door opens and Whistler walks out with his thumb up. “Crisis averted.”

“That’s good. I’m so sorry.” I push myself up onto my elbows and rub the sleep out of my eyes with my fist.

“I was asking for it. I shouldn’t wake a woman in the midst of her sleep,” he jokes, which makes me grin.

“True.” I tug the blanket to my chest to hide the fact that I’m only wearing his shirt. “How did you get in here? I locked the door.”

He sits at the bottom of the bed far enough away to make me comfortable, yet also far enough away for me to wish he was closer.

“I’ve had my fair share of needing to break into places.”

I check the time and see that it’s almost four in the morning. I yawn and lift my arms above my head to stretch.

“Pack a bag,” he says, slapping his palms on his dark-washed jeans. “I’m taking you somewhere.”

“At four in the morning?” I’m hesitant but I’m not afraid. Whistler doesn’t have my stomach screaming at me to run. He doesn’t have my body in protective mode. I’m not trying to be perfect around him. I’m simply…me.

I’m able to breathe without feeling guilty about it.

The constant edge of sickness I had with Kenneth isn’t present with Whistler. There’s no revulsion.

I’m experiencing peace after losing so many pieces of myself.

There’s a small voice inside the back of my head wondering if Whistler is a missing piece. The last thing I need to think about is a man, but really, when have I ever been with someone I wanted? I haven’t been in love in years, I haven’t felt a positive touch, I haven’t laughed with someone else, and I want those things.

I deserve those things I want.

“Just do it,” he grins.

“I don’t have anything to pack, remember? Unless you count this?” I wave my new Kindle in the air. I’ve downloaded fifty books so far. I find one to read but then I get recommendations and I go down this rabbit hole of other books and I’m not even close to being done looking at all the possibilities. I was never allowed to have a Kindle with Kenneth. He said it would take too much time away from my responsibilities.

“Perfect. It can fit in the saddle bag and on the way, we will stop and get you a few things.”

“Are you going to tell me where you’re taking me?” I swing my legs over the bed, keeping the blanket wrapped around me as I dip down to pick up his sweatpants.

“Nope, that would take away all the fun, Cupcake.”

“You’re not going to take me to the middle of the desert and kill me, are you?” I realize how bad my joke is when he doesn’t laugh, not even a little, considering the situation.

He crowds my space and I hold my breath, tilting my head back and meeting his dark gaze. His eyes fall to my lips and his fingers stroke under my chin. “There’s only one reason I’d take you into the middle of the desert and it wouldn’t be to kill you.”

I lick my lips and he groans, taking a step back to put space between us. “Put your pants on. It’s going to be a long drive.”

The space between my legs tingles for the first time since my wedding night and my nipples bead in response. Not wanting to get lost in lust, I slip the pants on under the blanket, then drop the comforter. “I’m ready,” I say as I slip my shoes on.

He holds out his hand, the palm wide and the fingers long, thick, and calloused, stained with grease and years of hard work. I can tell where he holds the bat he carries around. His palms are rough too.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Cupcake.”

“I know. That’s what’s surprising me.” When I slip my hand into his, I know I’ve created another link with him. There’s no way around it.

I’ve been forged in blood and fear and Whistler is the fire, the flame, and the steel to bind us together.

“There’s no turning back after this,” he says.

“I have nothing to turn back to,” I reply, holding my Kindle to my chest.

“I’ll fix that,” he promises.

He drags me down the steps and the length of his sweatpants almost makes me trip. I slip along the hardwood floor and he’s there to steady me, then swing me over his shoulder.

The heated night air hits me in the face along with the smell of a cigarette.

“She ready?” Whistler asks.

“Gassed up and ready for those miles, brother. Tell me when you get there. I’ll keep you updated.”

I know that voice. It’s One.

“Thanks. I owe you.”

“Don’t be gone too long. We need you here.”

“Just a few days, One.” Whistler sets me to my feet.

One goes back inside the bar and Whistler cups my face, the onyx irises blending with the night. “You’re going to have to hold on tight, okay? It’s a six-hour trip. So no falling asleep.”

I nod and before he slides my helmet on, he turns his head and bends down to kiss my cheek. But I do something unexpected and unlike me.

Tilting my head, I press my lips against his so quick it’s almost as if it didn’t happen. Tingles spread across my mouth, and my heart races. I rushed it. I know I did. He’s so respectful all the time because of me and what I’ve gone through, but I want to take control of one thing in my life for once.

I might not have shoved my tongue down his throat, but I have showed him how I feel. I’ve placed a seed.

He growls, his top lip curling as he slowly creeps closer to me wanting more. Right when I think he is going to kiss me, he puts my helmet on instead, clipping it under my chin.

I’m disappointed and it must show on my face.

“I want those lips more than anything, but I won’t rush you. I didn’t expect the sweet treat you just gave me, but we have six hours and the open road for you to think Cupcake. No pressure. Okay? None at all. My main concern is you.”

“And I love that.”

“Make sure it’s not the only thing you love, okay?”

I frown. I don’t like what he is implying. Does he think I only want him because he is one of the few men that has been nice to me for the first time in years? I can see how it looks, but I’m smart enough to know better. I could kiss anyone I wanted that showed me decency, but Whistler is so much more than that.

I don’t go around kissing people that make me feel something other than self-loathing. Hell, I didn’t even kiss Kenneth the last two years we were married, or whatever we were. He didn’t want to, and I wasn’t going to beg for something I didn’t want.

“Come on.” He mounts his bike and pats the back of the seat. “Chase the sun with me, Cupcake.”

Pushing back my disappointment I climb up behind him. The leather seat digs between my legs, and it takes me a minute to get comfortable since I’ve never been on a bike before. My hands are pressed against the middle of his back because I don’t know what else to do with them.

“Here,” he says, wrapping my hands around his waist.

My fingers are spread across his stomach and his abs flex under my touch. I can count the defined ridges as I trace along them.

“How the hell am I going to be able to focus with your hands on me?”

I smile, knowing he can’t see me. The bike comes to life, vibrating between my legs with so much intensity a yelp escapes me when it does more than I expect it to.

The vibrations feel…good.

Real good.

He groans. “I’m so fucking screwed with you reacting that way.” The gravel crunches under the tires as we reverse and he flips the headlight on so we can see in front of us. The chrome of other bikes reflects and it’s intimidating to see them all at once. “Lean when I lean, don’t fight it.”

I can’t see where we are going since I can’t see over his shoulder. He’s too big. Well, not too big in a bad way. He’s big in the way that lets me know I don’t need to worry about a thing. I can imagine myself cuddling him at night, his arms tucking me close. His chest would be the only pillow I’d ever need, and his body will be the heat I’d live on for the rest of my life.

No blanket needed when I have Whistler.

I don’t know what road we take, and I can’t tell what turns he makes, but I lean when I need to lean and watch the desert pass us by on the left. The moon shines bright and full, casting a glow onto the endless sand and scrub. The stars hug the night and I’m hypnotized by how many there are; it’s like we are riding the road to space with how dark it is and with how vivid the constellations twinkle.

I never want to get off this bike. I hope Whistler takes us far away where Kenneth can never find me. The wind is in my hair, my shirt blowing out and riding up my back. Even though it’s warm out, zipping down the road is causing a breeze, and my skin pebbles in reaction.

Wherever we are going, I know it’s temporary, but I want it to be forever.

This moment with Whistler is the best moment of my life and I never want it to end. I hold him closer, suddenly worried that this feeling is fleeting, temporary, just like the place we are going to. I’m trusting him when I never thought I’d trust anyone again. I thought it would be difficult and I’d rebel, but trusting Whistler is as easy as knowing what color the sky is or knowing that I need water to survive.

He’s the peace to all my pieces.

The road to somewhere goes on for hours and the sun finally begins to creep up over the edge of the world. Faint colors of orange begin to illuminate and blend with the night, day threatening to break free. It is only a matter of time before the sun is hot and bearing down on us.

My eyes close, not to sleep, but just to enjoy the feel of freedom.

There’s nothing like this, not even love or lust can compare to the vulnerability of the open road. One wrong move means death and while I’ve toed the line before, the possibility of death has never been so beautiful.

“Cupcake, what did I say about falling asleep?” his voice cuts through the high I’m experiencing. My bones and muscles are loose and I’m riding the edge of exhaustion, yet I don’t want to sleep.

An odd combination.

The bike slows down and eventually comes to a stop.

“We are here.”

Wherever here is sure is warm. It smells so good too and there is a static in the distance.

Whistler parks the motorcycle and then the solid structure of his body in front of me is gone, causing me to pitch forward. He chuckles as he catches me and helps me off. My legs shake from being on a bike so long and I keep my eyes closed as I stretch.

He unclips the helmet and the dark visor disappears. “Open those beautiful eyes and see where we are.”

I do as he says and gasp, holding a hand over my mouth as I languidly walk forward. Tears prickle my eyes when I see the dark blue ocean crashing against the shore.

He brought me to the ocean.

Whistler has made my California dream come true.

“This can’t be real.”

“It is Cupcake. I rented us a motel room on the beach too so the only thing we have to do is walk outside and park our asses in the sand. I wanted to bring you here first so I can watch you experience something for the first time. And I wanted to see your auburn hair in the California sun.” He shrugs a shoulder and twists a strand of my knotted hair around his finger. “I’m not disappointed.”

I giggle in disbelief. Kicking my shoes off, I laugh again and sprint toward the water. My toes sink into the soft sand, and I don’t hesitate to jump into the ocean, clothes and all.

It’s everything I’ve always wanted.

The water is warm and salty, calm with a small set of waves that hardly disrupt me. Seashells poke my toes and I bend down to grab a handful of wet sand from the bottom.

I want to build a sandcastle.

“How’s the water?” Whistler calls out to me from the shore.

He is dressed in black, and his leather cut reflects the sun. He must be burning up.

I dip my head underwater and swim to the shore. When I get my feet under me, I have to hold up the soaked sweatpants to keep them from falling.

“I didn’t think anything could be brighter than the sun, but your smile right now sure is giving it a run for its money.” He snaps a picture on his phone.

Sand sticks to me everywhere as I run to him. He tucks his phone in his pocket and I don’t give him time to think about what’s right. I slam against him and press my lips to his, long and hard, desperate and needy. The kiss is wet from the sea and the salt is hidden behind the wild taste of Whistler.

I’m drenching the front of his clothes, but he doesn’t care. He holds onto me tight and owns the kiss, flicking his tongue across my bottom lip while guiding my head in the direction he wants me to go in by cupping my jaw.

He kisses me wildly without rhythm, turning his head every few seconds to get more from the kiss. His lips are softer than what I imagined them to be, and his scruff rubs against the skin around my mouth, leaving behind an extra burn.

I never thought my dreams would come true, but then Whistler happened.

Proving people wrong has to be one of his specialties.

Regret doesn’t exist in dreams and that’s the last thing I feel with him. The beach is just a place, but the dream is Whistler.

Everything I knew, everything I thought I wanted for myself has changed in the blink of an eye.