momentarily.
An overwhelming sense of fear took hold of her body and she almost screamed.
But then she remembered where she was, and her heartbeat slowed a fraction.
Still, the moaning and yelling continued just outside the bedroom door. It wasn’t very loud after all. Was it his computer or something? Was he watching television?
She realized that she didn’t actually know this man very well. What if something was actually wrong with him…mentally?
Krista got out of bed and padded slowly to the door, opening it ever so quietly, and peering out into the rest of the cabin.
It was very dim, but some light was coming in from the moon and stars through the cabin windows—just enough for her to make out the shapes of the furniture.
Nobody was up and about.
And then came the yelling again. It was Gunner, she realized. He was on the couch, thrashing around in his sleep. She could tell he was having some kind of horrible nightmare.
His screams weren’t full throated, but almost seemed to be coming from a distance. They were clearly the screams of someone experiencing awful, horrible dreams.
She walked slowly over to the couch. As Krista’s eyes adjusted further to the room, she saw that Gunner was only wearing his boxers. His body was even more incredible than she’d thought from seeing him without his shirt on. Every muscle was toned and tight and perfect.
But even as her eyes took in his magnificence, she was still worried by his tossing and turning and moaning.
She wasn’t sure whether to simply let him continue sleeping, or if she should try and wake him.
After a few more seconds, he seemed to calm down and grow still and peaceful.
But then, out of nowhere, he started shouting worse than ever, and his arms were pushing at the couch.
She couldn’t let him go on like that.
Krista walked around the couch and knelt down beside him. “Gunner,” she whispered. “Gunner, wake up.”
He was still crying out in his sleep. Krista was unsure of the right way to handle it—she’d heard it was bad to wake sleepwalkers—but then again, he wasn’t sleepwalking, just having a nightmare.
She put her hands on his back and tried to soothe him. His back was warm and she felt a little sense of vertigo touching his naked skin this way.
“It’s okay,” she said softly.
Suddenly, he spun around and his eyes snapped open, his hand reaching up and grabbing her wrist with catlike reflexes. “What the hell are you doing?” he hissed.
She cried out in surprise and tried to jump away from him, but he was still holding her wrist, not letting go. “Stop it, Gunner.”
He sat up on the couch. “Why were you touching me?” His voice was flat and accusing.
“You were having a nightmare and I was worried. Let go of me!” She yanked her hand away, but he let go first, otherwise she never could have gotten free.
She quickly moved away from him, putting distance between herself and the couch. She went into the bedroom and shut the door, putting her back against it. She felt afraid. His eyes had been completely dead—cold and dead.
The way he’d looked at her when he’d first woken up—it was chilling.
Slowly, she started to feel less afraid. She heard his footsteps going to the bathroom and then, a moment later, the water running. Not long after that, he came out and she heard his footsteps crossing to the bedroom. He knocked on the door, causing her to jump.
“Leave me alone, Gunner,” she said. It occurred to her that a man as strong as Gunner could open the door just as easily with her trying to hold it shut. She would hold him off about as well as a fly trying to hold back a raging bull.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said through the door.
“Then you shouldn’t have grabbed my wrist and yelled at me.”
“Krista…let me explain.”
“I don’t need any explanations,” she said. “Let’s just go back to sleep and pretend it never happened.”
“We both know it happened, and you
An overwhelming sense of fear took hold of her body and she almost screamed.
But then she remembered where she was, and her heartbeat slowed a fraction.
Still, the moaning and yelling continued just outside the bedroom door. It wasn’t very loud after all. Was it his computer or something? Was he watching television?
She realized that she didn’t actually know this man very well. What if something was actually wrong with him…mentally?
Krista got out of bed and padded slowly to the door, opening it ever so quietly, and peering out into the rest of the cabin.
It was very dim, but some light was coming in from the moon and stars through the cabin windows—just enough for her to make out the shapes of the furniture.
Nobody was up and about.
And then came the yelling again. It was Gunner, she realized. He was on the couch, thrashing around in his sleep. She could tell he was having some kind of horrible nightmare.
His screams weren’t full throated, but almost seemed to be coming from a distance. They were clearly the screams of someone experiencing awful, horrible dreams.
She walked slowly over to the couch. As Krista’s eyes adjusted further to the room, she saw that Gunner was only wearing his boxers. His body was even more incredible than she’d thought from seeing him without his shirt on. Every muscle was toned and tight and perfect.
But even as her eyes took in his magnificence, she was still worried by his tossing and turning and moaning.
She wasn’t sure whether to simply let him continue sleeping, or if she should try and wake him.
After a few more seconds, he seemed to calm down and grow still and peaceful.
But then, out of nowhere, he started shouting worse than ever, and his arms were pushing at the couch.
She couldn’t let him go on like that.
Krista walked around the couch and knelt down beside him. “Gunner,” she whispered. “Gunner, wake up.”
He was still crying out in his sleep. Krista was unsure of the right way to handle it—she’d heard it was bad to wake sleepwalkers—but then again, he wasn’t sleepwalking, just having a nightmare.
She put her hands on his back and tried to soothe him. His back was warm and she felt a little sense of vertigo touching his naked skin this way.
“It’s okay,” she said softly.
Suddenly, he spun around and his eyes snapped open, his hand reaching up and grabbing her wrist with catlike reflexes. “What the hell are you doing?” he hissed.
She cried out in surprise and tried to jump away from him, but he was still holding her wrist, not letting go. “Stop it, Gunner.”
He sat up on the couch. “Why were you touching me?” His voice was flat and accusing.
“You were having a nightmare and I was worried. Let go of me!” She yanked her hand away, but he let go first, otherwise she never could have gotten free.
She quickly moved away from him, putting distance between herself and the couch. She went into the bedroom and shut the door, putting her back against it. She felt afraid. His eyes had been completely dead—cold and dead.
The way he’d looked at her when he’d first woken up—it was chilling.
Slowly, she started to feel less afraid. She heard his footsteps going to the bathroom and then, a moment later, the water running. Not long after that, he came out and she heard his footsteps crossing to the bedroom. He knocked on the door, causing her to jump.
“Leave me alone, Gunner,” she said. It occurred to her that a man as strong as Gunner could open the door just as easily with her trying to hold it shut. She would hold him off about as well as a fly trying to hold back a raging bull.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said through the door.
“Then you shouldn’t have grabbed my wrist and yelled at me.”
“Krista…let me explain.”
“I don’t need any explanations,” she said. “Let’s just go back to sleep and pretend it never happened.”
“We both know it happened, and you
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