Whistler by K.L. Savage
I’m starting to get nervous.
The only man I’ve ever spent the night with before is Kenneth and he didn’t exactly pave a positive path for what men expect at night. Granted, Kenneth stopped wanting me years ago, and I’m thankful for that.
I know what mindset I should be in.
I’ve been in a relationship where I was abused. I need time to adjust to my new reality, but what I want more than anything is to be wanted. Truly wanted.
And maybe I’m crazy for that. Maybe I’m twisted in the head after so many hits from Kenneth that I’m hoping something happens between me and Whistler.
On the flip side of things, I haven’t loved Kenneth in a long time or even respected him. He traumatized me and sent me to my breaking point. I’ve been done and over Kenneth for a while now and I didn’t realize how ready I was to move on until Whistler said I was never married.
Talk about a chain being broken and my cage being opened. I couldn’t get that ring off fast enough.
The kiss with Whistler on the beach was everything I missed in life, and I want more of it, more of him. When I dared to dream about my life and I pictured someone I wanted to be with, Whistler fit the description.
I hate that I met him when I’m so broken and jaded, learning how to trust and love all over again. He deserves more than that with how amazing and beautiful he is to me.
If he were anyone else, there’s no way I would be on the back of their bike holding them tight. Whistler is different.
Whistler has me seeing all the things I will miss in life if I continue to be afraid. And I don’t want to be afraid anymore.
“Come on, Cupcake. Let’s get checked in.” He holds out his hand, and I take it as he helps me down from the bike.
I set down my helmet and smooth out my dress. He reaches into his saddle bag and plops the hat he got me on top of my head. I strike a pose and pucker my lips. He wraps one arm around me and dips me across his knee. My hand holds the hat on, so it doesn’t blow away. His lips crush mine in a kiss that shows ownership, a claim. I whimper when he sets me back on my feet, lips swollen, breathe stolen, and my heart racing with desire.
Heck, my entire body is thrumming with it. And I’m going to be alone in a room with a man who truly wants me? Yeah, my control doesn’t stand a chance.
“Couldn’t help myself.” He hums while brushing his thumb along my bottom lip, something I’ve noticed he likes to do. He likes touching me.
And I like his touch, which is odd considering I promised myself to avoid anyone touching me ever again if anything should have happened to Kenneth.
Whistler had to go and prove himself trustworthy, and now he’s wiggled his way into my heart. I thought I had hardened it to iron, but Whistler has proved it’s made of quicksand with how fast he has sunk inside it.
“Help yourself more often,” I reply and a serious expression drapes over his face.
He cages me in his arms, blocking me in a tight space with the bike behind me. One of his hands grips the handlebar while the other lies flat on the seat.
I have nowhere to go.
“Don’t temp me. I know what’s not under that dress and it’s already hard for me to concentrate.” He drops his gaze to my chest and his thumb brushes along the side of my knee. A soft growl escapes his throat before he pushes himself away. “Come on. Before you drive me out of my mind with lust.”
Why does that make me feel so good?
I take his hand and I follow behind him while we head to the door that has a piece of wood hanging on it that says ‘Front Office’ painted in flamingo pink.
It’s a beachy motel, meant for just sleeping, and I adore it. There’s sand everywhere and salt lingers in the air since all the doors and windows are open. The waves crash in the distance and the seagulls sing. I close my eyes and lean against the counter, smiling when another dream comes true.
“I’m sorry it isn’t nicer. I should have gotten us a condo; I was looking for the closest place after riding for so long.”
Why does he sound disappointed? I grip his arm tight. “Whistler, this is more than I could have asked for. It’s perfect. I wouldn’t want anything else.”
“You sure? I feel like you deserve more.”
“I have everything I’ve ever wanted.” I skim my fingers up and down his hairy arms. There are a few pale scares hiding under the dark hairs, but they’re hardly noticeable unless you’re really looking like I am. And if another woman starts staring that hard, we’re going to have a problem.
“If you’re sure,” he trails off and dings the bell.
A guy pops up from the floor, and I gasp jumping back. I didn’t expect him there.
“Hey, welcome to The Pink Penguin Motel, my dudes.” His red eyes widen when he sees me, and he smiles. “Sorry. Dude and dudette. My name is Brayden.” He points his thumbs at his nametag and runs his hands through his long blonde hair. He’s the California surfer cliché. The voice, the hair, the tan, and I’m pretty positive he is high. “Anyway, my bro and bro-ette. You see what I did there?” he laughs, and it reminds me of Bevis and Butthead. “How can the Brayden help you out today?”
Oh god, he just spoke about himself in the third person.
“Well, Brayden. I have a reservation under Whistler.”
“Whistler. I feel that. That’s a cool name, man. Can you like, whistle really well?”
Huh, why haven’t I ever asked?
Whistler smirks and leans forward, placing his elbows on the counter. He gestures at Brayden to come closer, and the eager surfer leans in as if he’s about to learn a secret. “If I tell you, I’d have to kill you, Brayden. And I like you, so killing you would suck.”
Brayden is wide-eyed for a minute before he doubles over laughing then points at Whistler before slapping his hand on the countertop. “Ah, you’re a funny dude. I like that, man. I get it. Secrets and stuff. It’s cool, bro.” Brayden snags a key from a row of hooks and the keychain is a pink penguin with a silver key dangling from it. “One king size—”
“—Woah, I got a room with two beds, Brayden.”
My hope and heart plummets to the deepest part of my stomach at his words. Why would he get two beds?
Brayden hits a few keys and places his baseball cap on his head backward. “Ah, sorry Mr. Whistler. Looks like we were all sold out. I only had the King left.”
“Can you give us one minute?” Whistler holds up a finger and circles my arm gently to tug me off to the side. Even his grip is soft with me where Kenneth’s was tight and painful. He always left a bruise.
“Sure thing, my man. I’m just going to watch some Baywatch. Pamela in that tight red bikini just does it for me, ya know?”
“Good lord, how much does that kid smoke?” Whistler mumbles to me out of the side of his mouth.
“He’s nice,” I say in his defense.
“I didn’t say he wasn’t, Cupcake.”
“Why are you so mad that we have to share a bed?” I tug my arm free of his hold. “Do you not want to be close to me? I thought we had something but was it just…nothing?” I get more confused the more I think about it. He kisses me, he holds me, he shows me affection, he’s kind, so what’s the big deal about a bed?
“Mad?” His onyx eyebrows bend together so much, they almost look like a unibrow. Whistler relaxes. “Ah, shit. Cupcake, no. That’s not it. I asked for two beds because I didn’t want you to feel any pressure. It’s the last thing I want. Being alone in a small space, at night, I know how it feels and not for a moment did I want to make you feel like we had to be together.”
He only ever has the best intentions. I fist the front of his shirt. “I should have known you’d be so sweet.”
“Believe me, just because I asked for two beds didn’t mean I wanted them. I still had my dirty thoughts and wants but I knew what was right and that was respecting your space until you say otherwise.”
I press up on my tiptoes and smile against his lips. “Otherwise.”
“You make it impossible for a man to behave.” He nips at my bottom lip, and I open my mouth to give him entrance when the motel phone rings.
“Pink Penguin Motel where the quacks come to stay. Brayden at your surf-ice.” He chuckles at himself. “Get it? Service? But surf-ice? I’m so smart.”
Whistler sighs at the joke, but I find it endearing.
“Hey, Mr. Whistler? You still want the room? I have someone who needs it and it’s the only room left.”
Whistler stomps over in two strides and steals the key from the counter. “Fuck yes I want it.” He snags my hand and drags me away from the front desk before Brayden can say anything to stop us. “Room 3A. Awesome. Main level.” Whistler stops in front of the motorcycle and gets out the rest of the bags. I barely have time to catch my breath before he is dragging me to room 3A.
He fumbles with the key and while I wait for him to get the door open, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I peer over my shoulder, placing my chin along the curve to look around, but don’t see anyone. There’s a couple walking across the parking lot, their skin like leather from being in the sun for most of their lives, but they don’t seem threatening.
Must be my nerves or paranoia.
The door finally opens, and I shiver as soon as I step inside. The air conditioning is freezing. “It’s so cold in here,” I say, rubbing my arms up and down.
“Yeah, it is. Damn, they are going to freeze us out.” Whistler fiddles with the AC unit and the air finally kicks off. “There. It should warm up soon.” The plastic bags crunch together when he places them on the small table next to the bed.
“I’m going to wash up.” Whistler takes off his boots and they hit the floor with a solid thud one after the other. “And then a nap? Because I can barely keep my eyes open.”
“Sounds good to me.” Even though the room is cold, my palms are sweating. I rub them against my dress and explore the small room.
When I hear the faint hiss of the shower turn on, a filthy image of Whistler soaping up his body has me falling over and catching myself on the circular table made for two. I grip the edge and my nails dig into the fake wood.
It’s when he starts singing…badly, that I’m yanked out of my lust-induced haze. I stare at the wall the shower hides behind and muffle my laughter as his voice cracks as he sings offkey.
Well, I guess no one can be perfect, but Whistler is pretty damn close.
I chuckle to myself and sit on the edge of the bed. It’s soft and the comforter seems kind of itchy and cheap, but I think that adds to the wonderful appeal of it all. To the left, there’s a picture of the beach hanging above the lamp. It’s tilted. I try to straighten it and stick out my tongue as I adjust it.
I nod my head when it’s straight but a second later the frame grinds against the wall as it turns, hanging crooked again.
Damn, that’s going to drive me nuts.
The shower turns off and I panic. I throw myself under the covers, press my head against the pillow, and shut my eyes, pretending I’m asleep. Now that I’m here in this bed, I am scared. There’s no pressure, but there is.
From me.
What if I’m bad at having him hold me? What if I’m bad at sex?
“Charlie?” His deep tone has a shard of guilt stabbing me in the heart as I lie here. The mattress squeaks from his weight. He scoots closer to me.
And closer.
Until I can feel the warmth radiating from his chest against my back. It’s soothing and relieves the guilt I feel, but not the pressure.
All I want to do is move on with my life, enjoy, feel what’s good, and I can’t.
I’m frozen.
“Sleep well, Cupcake.” He kisses my shoulder in the same place Kenneth used to, but Whistler’s kiss is different. His lips linger, he rubs his fingers over my shoulder, and when he releases the kiss, he groans.
I wait for the snap, the anger, the random reason for hate to have him choke me or hit me, but it doesn’t come.
He hits me in another way.
“I’m falling in love with you, Charlie. So hard. So fast. I promise I’ll never hurt you. Give me the chance to show it,” he whispers, dragging his lips back and forth across my shoulder blade.
Tears spring to my eyes, but I keep them closed, afraid I’ll say something like, ‘I’m falling in love with you too.’ Because the last time I loved…
I ended up not being loved at all.
Love can be a form of abuse within itself. It’s either used against you or used to strengthen you, and I’ve only ever received one.
I hope my self-induced paralysis doesn’t last long because I want to show him how much I want to give him a chance.
