Page 8 of His Cabin Obsession

I want to take her like this. I want my thumbs on her nipples. I want –

And then I read my own name.

I grip onto the back of the chair opposite Olivia, holding it for support. The man she’s writing about in this story – it’s me, or based on me. That means all the words she wrote – like a movie star, thick and strong, wicked sharp – are what she thinks of me.

And the woman in the story – blonde hair – could it be her?

I have to fight an almost overwhelming urge to take her right there, throw everything to the floor and mate with her on top of the table, make her story a reality. I want to rip her underwear away and throw it down, and make her throw her head back with animalistic joy. I’m so hard I can barely contain it.

But there’s something about the way she wrote that grabs my attention – that forces my blood to cool, at least for a moment. Everything is descriptive yet vague, nothing about the look of his body, the feel of their encounter after the line about her nipples.

It makes me wonder if Olivia has no experience to write from – and I need to know if that’s true, now, before I make the mistake of trying to seduce her right here without thought.

Chapter Seven

Olivia

I feel like I just want to bury my head in my hands and hide forever. He wasn’t supposed to read that – never in a million years would I have written it if I thought he would read it!

It’s so embarrassing. Now he knows that I was fantasizing about him. Why did I have to be stupid enough to put his name in there? It would have been bad enough for him to read something I’d written about sex, but knowing it was about him – that has to be so much worse!

I can’t hide from him behind my hands, and there isn’t much room in the cabin to escape. But there is one place I can go that at least has a modicum of privacy. I get up from my chair, hearing it scrape back across the wooden floor, and run for the bedroom, to close the door behind me.

Only to find Aaron there in the doorway, blocking me.

“You don’t have to run away,” he says, letting the notebook fall closed and handing it back to me.

I hesitate before reaching out to snatch it from his hands. “You weren’t supposed to read it,” I mutter, my cheeks still flaming with heat. I can’t close the door with him there, but I can at least turn away from him and hide my face with my hands again.

This has to be the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to me. Imagine – the totally hot older guy you accidentally got stuck in a cabin with, and within the first few hours of meeting you tell him an explicit sexual fantasy in which he is the main star. One day I might be able to laugh at this, but definitely not today.

“It’s just a story,” he says, coaxingly. “The characters, the style – what made you want to write like that?”

“I don’t know,” I say. I shrug stubbornly from behind my hands. “That’s just how it came out.”

“It’s very noir,” he says. “And the sex scene – why didn’t you go into more details?”

I thought I was as red as I could possibly go, but the spreading heat across my chest is a testament to the fact that you can always feel more awkward. “I didn’t want to,” I squeak, even though I know it’s not exactly a satisfying answer.

“But that’s the style these days, isn’t it?” Aaron presses. I wish he would just stop, just go away and leave me alone to die of shame. “To be very explicit. Describing bodies, feelings, sensations in full detail.”

I could literally fall down a hole and die right now. “I just – I wasn’t – I didn’t want to do that,” I say. What other excuse do I have? The fact that I have no experience whatsoever with that kind of thing, and therefore I have no idea what to write?

“But you could, couldn’t you?” Aaron says. “I mean, I think it would make the story more intriguing. It doesn’t have to be fully explicit, but you could describe how she feels. The sensation of him inside of her.”

Oh god. Oh god, oh god.

“You know how it feels,” Aaron carries on. His tone is light, as if he assumes I really do know. “You can just add a little here and there. The way her muscles tense…”

I can’t take it anymore. “I can’t!” I blurt out. “I can’t do any of that!”

“Why not?”

I want to shrivel up into a tiny ball and fall down a hole somewhere. “Because I’m a virgin.”

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