Page 31 of Craving Chaos

He gives a single nod and heads inside.

I’m struck by how grateful I am that he didn’t try to dissuade me or challenge whether I was capable. Maybe he was simply too tired to bother, but I don’t think that’s it. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I misjudged him. However, I will admit that time together has helped us understand one another better. Possibly even respect one another.

I’m not trying to imply that mutual respect has a deeper meaning. We have no choice but to be a team out here, and respect is crucial when relying on a team member. That’s all it is. Nothing to read into and certainly not a reason for me to be smiling while I exhaust myself chopping wood. Therefore, I should probably wipe this stupid grin off my face, but the damn thing’s like a virus. I have to let it run its course and hope it doesn’t mutate into something worse.

Slinging an ax is a fantastic way to expel unwanted emotions. It’s also a great way to end up drenched in sweat. The tiny bit of food we’ve had isn’t remotely enough to support the calories I’m burning. Adrenaline keeps me going, but I can tell I’m worn out way faster than I would be if I wasn’t starving.

When exhaustion prevents me from chopping any more wood, I collect an armful of logs and head inside. “What I wouldn’t give for a shower and a fresh set of clothes.” I plop down on the stool after setting the logs by the stove and pour myself a full cup of water.

“If you want to wash up with what’s left in the bucket, I’ll go refill it when you’re done,” Renzo offers.

“I guess I could at least wash my face and rinse my shirt.” I take off my coat, then lift my shirt over my head and kneel next to the water bucket. I wet the same towel I swept over Renzo’s forehead while he was sick and use it to wipe down my face and upper body. The cold water on my heated skin feels amazing, sending a shiver from head to toe.

As I submerge my shirt in the water, my back suddenly feels warm. The preternatural warm that happens when being watched. I left my bra on, so I’m not naked, but I’m more exposed than I’ve been in front of him, and I sense his awareness.

His stare rakes over me like a physical touch—the back of my neck, my shoulders, the indentation of my spine. I imagine an intimacy to it, though I shouldn’t. We have no choice but to live openly in front of one another.

I chide myself not to read into anything because these aren’t normal circumstances. He’s not watching me clean up because I invited him to my place. He has no damn choice. And even if he did, enjoying the attention is such a bad idea. What happens when this surreal bubble pops and we return to reality? He goes back to his world, and I go back to mine.

Our cousins may have married one another, but Noemi isn’t part of the family business. Her marriage to my cousin Conner didn’t create a conflict of loyalties. I’m different. I’ve worked so hard to be accepted as an equal in the Byrne business. I’d never let that go just to be with a man or anyone for that matter. And if that’s the case, it would be idiotic to let myself fantasize about someone like Renzo, even if we’re stuck in a place where the rules from back home don’t apply.

I squeeze out my shirt and find a place to hang it on the wall, then put my coat on to keep me from catching a chill.

“Not sure what’s going on in that head of yours, but I don’t think I like it.”

“What do you mean?” I finally let my gaze drift to his.

“While you were sitting there—your whole body deflated. Don’t like seeing that. We’ll find a way back, you know. It may take a while, but we’ll get home.” He thinks I’m worried and is trying to lift my spirits. It’s unexpectedly sweet but reinforces what I’ve already been thinking.

“Yeah, I know.” I can’t keep the sadness from my voice because before long, this will all be a distant memory.

CHAPTER 17

RENZO

Night falls early out here in the wilderness where there’s no electricity to fight back the darkness. It’s just as well. Neither of us has had a full belly of food in days, and we’re both still recovering from all that’s happened. We’re both ready to call it a day not long after our meager evening meal of green beans and pineapple chunks.

Despite how tired we are, however, the air in our little fortress grows unquestionably dense with tension as bedtime nears. Our past two nights sharing the tiny bed were inconsequential, seeing as how we were either blind with exhaustion or, in my case, literally comatose.

Tonight is different.

Shae must feel it too because she’s acting differently—fiddling with tidying up and rarely looking in my direction. She continues to fidget once we’re in bed. My dick is apparently plenty rested because all it takes is a momentary press of Shae’s ass for him to stand at attention.

“Woman, you need to quit your wiggling.” My voice is a gravelly growl that I hope she interprets as exhaustion rather than what it truly is—desire.

“I can’t help it. I’m a stomach sleeper. Sleeping on my side doesn’t feel right.”

The image of her sleeping naked on her stomach in my bed back home flashes in my mind. I can see myself align my body with hers and guide her thighs apart before pressing deep inside her. The vision is so detailed, it could be a memory. It’s more than enough to make me rock hard. Hell, my dick is a goddamn tree truck sprouted between us.

The next time she wiggles, I clamp my arm tight around her middle and pull her against me. Let her feel the effect she has on me.

Shae freezes on a ragged intake of breath.

“Told you to quit your fidgeting,” I murmur, wishing I knew what she was thinking. She has to know I can’t help it. His actions aren’t exactly voluntary. Of course, I didn’t have to pull her against me. That was pure selfishness, and I’m not remotely sorry.

At least now she knows whatever pitiful representation of my manhood she might have seen while I was sick wasn’t the whole picture. My pride dusts itself off and sits a little taller, much like my dick.

“I didn’t mean to … I was just trying to get comfortable.” She’s flustered, but I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or not. I’ll feel like a real asshole if I find out later she was worried I might try to take advantage in the night. I might have fantasized about it, but I wouldn’t actually do it. Not really. Not unless I knew she wanted it.

---