Page 5 of His Cabin Obsession

“And sex?” Aaron asks, lifting one of his eyebrows.

“What?” I splutter, nearly choking on my juice.

Aaron chuckles lightly. “It’s all the rage at the moment, isn’t it? Erotic writing.”

I feel my cheeks coloring heavily at his words. I guess he had no way of knowing I wouldn’t be comfortable with the subject, but I’m not. The thing is, I don’t really have a lot of knowledge when it comes to love and sex. I’ve never had either of them – at least, not romantic love. And I’m still a virgin – something that may or may not change during the next four years of college. Not that I’ve ever met a boy I wanted to do it with – they’re usually so juvenile.

Aaron, though, is not juvenile at all, he’s a man. And my face is not the only place heating up – I can feel it between my thighs, too.

I need to change the subject.

“I should bring in my bags,” I say, leaping up as if I’ve just remembered. “We shouldn’t leave the doors open like that. I’ve heard there are bears around here sometimes.”

With a chuckle, Aaron sets his glass down on the table and gets up to join me. “Let me help,” he says, leaving me relieved that the topic of conversation has moved somewhere safer.

Chapter Four

Aaron

It’s set. I have a week to make her mine, and I’m going to make it happen.

There’s no other option for me. I can’t stop staring at Olivia, her body, her face. The way she looks makes the blood surge down to the pit of my stomach, and the more she tells me about who she is and who she wants to be, the more I want to be part of that future. I want to be the future for her.

I just have to make her mine – and that starts now.

I step ahead of her and grab her bags, lifting them easily and carrying them through to the one bedroom the cabin has.

“You can set up in here,” I tell her. “I’ll leave my things in the wardrobe, but I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Oh…” Olivia’s hand flies to her mouth. “I hadn’t even thought about that.”

“Don’t worry,” I tell her, turning on my most charming grin. “I’ll be fine with the couch. I can’t ask a lady to sleep on anything but a bed.”

Olivia looks guilty, but I make quick work of gathering a few things from the bedside table – a book, my watch, and a couple of other nighttime essentials – and move them into the main room. The coffee table happens to have a drawer built in that serves the purpose just fine of stowing those things until tonight.

“I brought a lot of food,” Olivia says hesitantly, holding up one of the bags to show me. “I guess we can share. I don’t know what you eat, but…”

So, she’s warming up to me enough to want to share. That’s a good sign, I hope. “I brought some things, too. Sharing is a great idea.” I take the bag from her outstretched hand and carry it over to start emptying it and tidying the food away. “I’ll cook something for us tonight. You need all the time you can get to work on your writing. I can manage some of the chores.”

“I kind of wanted to cook, at least a little,” Olivia says shyly. “I need to learn. I mean, if I’m going to be heading out into the world on my own and all that.”

“Let me take care of it tonight,” I insist. I need her to feel the charm. “Maybe tomorrow I can teach you a dish or two.”

“That would be nice.” Olivia brightens at the idea and helps me to finish putting away the food, filling our cupboards and the fridge almost to overflowing.

That done, I take a look around the space, our space, now and for the rest of the week. It looks pretty good to me. Close quarters, no distractions, and no interruptions. I have her all to myself.

“Is there only one table?” Olivia asks. She’s been looking around the same as I was, but when I look at her, her expression is concerned. She’s chewing on her lip and frowning.

“Yeah, just the dining table,” I say, giving it a nudge. If you can even call it that. The small wooden table is just big enough for two chairs. It fits into the space – on one side is the stove, close enough that you would trip over the chair if it was any closer, and on the other is the couch, snug against the table leg. “There’s the coffee table too, though I guess it’s too low down for leaning on.”

“I’ll need to use the dining table,” Olivia says decisively. “I can’t write all hunched over. I’ll need to use it every day, between meal times. All morning, and all afternoon.”

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