Forbidden Sensations: A Dark Romance by Savannah Rose (e book reader pc TXT) 📕

believe what she was looking at. “Matches,” she growled, and widened her eyes, looking toward the survival kit.

“Right,” I said, and found a box of Zippo Waterproofs right on top of the kit. “Waterproof matches? How cool is that? I didn't even know there was such a thing as –” I cut my own words off. If looks could kill, I'd be a dead man three times over.

Next to the lean-to, was a small stack of dry driftwood. Not a lot, but enough to stoke the flames until I could gather more. I placed them onto the pile of ash, apparently in the correct fashion because Ramona wasn't assigning derogatory terms to my existence.

I struck one of the matches on the box, and lit the wood from the bottom. Also correct.

A single flame took hold, and began licking at the pile atop of it. I smiled. I'd made fire! Well, actually, no. The match made fire. I was just a shit head who had to be told where the box was.

The warmth was instant, and felt wonderful against my bare skin.

I glanced at Ramona, hoping for approval but trying not to show it. She stared into the flames, still shivering, still chattering, her hand kneading her leg.

“Is it broken?”

She shook her head. “Hope not.”

“Um, well… where's the aspirin? That'll help,” I said, looking through the bag.

“Used it all on you,” she sighed, disgusted. I didn't know who she was more repulsed with. Me, or her. Then, a little light in her eyes. She looked at me. “Chocolate...?”

I visibly deflated. She looked quite excited at the thought of chocolate. Which, I'd eaten. I didn't have to tell her. From the look on her face, she already knew. She kept nodding, but I couldn't tell if that gesture was in agreement with what she was thinking, or the iciness refusing to leave her body.

Her eyes closed.

Her lips pursed together.

“Ramona...?”

She was teetering, now. Swaying back and forth, on the verge of passing out.

I'd heard that a person who's freezing to death shouldn't be allowed to fall asleep. Or was that concussions? No, it was freezing. Both? I guess it didn't matter. Not now. I retrieved the other blanket, and crawled up next to her.

“You're not going to like this,” I said, opened her blanket, and placed my warm body against hers. She was an icicle. It was a shock to my own flesh which was warm and comfortable.

I drew her closer, wrapped my arms around her, tightly, and placed her head against my chest. God, her hair was cold, too. brushed it away, settling it on top of the blanket away from her skin. “I really am sorry, you know.”

“N-no you're not...”

Her hand moved away from her knee, and laid against my stomach. A slab of ice upon my belly, and I flinched at the sensation. Held her tighter.

“You're not one to accept an apology, are you?”

“...depends, on who's apolo-gizing...”

“How'd you fuck up your knee?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation going. Trying to keep her awake.

“...fell into a tide pool...”

“No, I mean before that.”

“Balance beam,” she replied quietly. “How'd you... fuck up…your life?”

“You think I fucked up my life?”

“Pervert,” she said, burying her face beneath my neck.

I sighed. “Yeah. I dunno. Born predisposed to deviancy, I suppose.”

“Heartless asshole.”

“Okay, well, that? Sure. Yes. On some levels.”

“...all levels...”

I looked up through the trees, to the stars in the sky. The moon was almost full and descending toward the horizon. I wondered if Josh was up there, looking down on me, which was strange, as I'd never really thought that before.

Ramona shifted a little, and let out a slight cry. “God. Fucking dammit,” she said, and drew in a small sniffle.

“Hey, Ramona? You want to know something?”

I felt her shake her head.

“You're…epic.”

Her head raised up, just a scosche. Not enough for me to see her eyes, but enough for me to know she was paying attention. Which meant clarity. That was a good sign.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Hey, very cool! You said a whole sentence without stuttering. Feeling better?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you being epic? Well, just the way it sounds. You may have guessed, Ramona, that I tend to get involved with high maintenance types. They're easier that way, and I know that sounds sexist because it is. You, on the other hand? You're like… you're like Annie Oakley. Or Princess Leia. Carrie-Ann Moss, the gal who played… um,” I paused, knowing full well the name I was pretending not to know was Trinity. “Aw, dang it, you know. The Matrix movies? The total badass chick.”

“Trinity.”

“Bingo! Trinity. Dug her. I'd have found her a threat to my masculinity not so long ago.”

“You… you think I'm like her?”

“Oh, fuck yeah you are. And I know you're probably thinking, 'oh, he's a lying sack of shit and he's just saying that to impress me', but you know what? I've totally given up on convincing you I'm telling you the truth. So fuck it. I'll say what I want, and I don't care what you think.”

Ramona didn't say anything for a while. She was still awake, though. I could tell, as I felt her eyelashes blinking against my chest. That felt nice. Very, very nice, and I couldn't exactly remember the last time I'd just held a woman.

Honestly, I couldn't remember if I ever had. Bonus points went to my dick, that decided not to spring up to its immediate fuckherfuckherfuckher! attention mode. That was different. As if it, like me, were simply enjoying the closeness. More bonus points to Ramona, too, whose shivering was subsiding.

“They, um… they should have stopped. At the second one.”

“Reloaded? What, you didn't like Revolutions?”

“It tried too hard,” she said, went to adjust herself closer to me, and shrieked. Blood-curdling. Her arm shot back down to her leg, her teeth clenched, veins protruding like cables in her neck. “Mother fucking fucker!” she screamed.

For a split second,