Chapter 11: The Loft

"Go to bed, Sunshine," Wayne said.

He still had not turned around.

"You told me to ask in a year," I said. "I'm not asking. I'm telling you what I want."

"And I'm telling you no." His voice cracked on it. "Go to bed."

I went.

I lay awake until the rain quit.

The next afternoon we drove to the courthouse in Pinedale to file Dessa's statement with the clerk.

It took ten minutes and neither of us said anything that mattered.

On the way home the sky went black over the Wind Rivers and the storm hit all at once.

Wayne slowed to a crawl on the county road, wipers going.

Then the truck coughed twice and died.

He turned the key and nothing happened. He turned it again and swore.

"Water in the line," he said. "Give it a minute."

We sat there with the rain roaring on the roof and the windows gone white.

My jeans were soaked to the knee from the walk across the lot.

His hand lay on the gearshift between us, and I looked at it.

"Wayne."

It was the first time I had said his name in two weeks.

He turned his head.

I leaned across the bench seat and kissed him.

For one second he didn't move.

Then his hand came up into my hair and he kissed me back so hard my head hit the window.

His mouth was hot and tasted like coffee, and he made a sound low in his chest that I felt in my stomach.

I climbed halfway into his lap. He gripped my hips and dragged me the rest of the way.

I could feel his cock against me through two layers of denim.

He tore his mouth away.

"Tell me to stop," he said, and his voice was wrecked. "Tell me to stop and mean it."

"No."

He looked at me for a long breath.

He didn't tell me to stop either.

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