As she walks beside me and looks out at the lake, she smiles. “It’s so beautiful here this time of year. I haven’t been here in two years.”
I think back to the last time I was here and realize it’s been two years too. Which means the last time we were both here … was together.
Unzipping the top of my three-quarter zip, I pull it over my head and turn to face her. “Here,” I say, raising it over her head. “Take this.”
“But then you’ll be cold,” she whispers, her eyes twinkling in the moonlight.
Tugging it over her head, I pull it down over her body as she puts her arms through the holes. “I’ll be fine,” I murmur, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Better?”
She nods slowly, biting gently on her bottom lip nervously. “Thank you.”
Her gaze shifts behind me, and she jerks her chin up slightly. “Looks like that storm really is coming, huh?”
I crane my neck to look up at the sky. “Supposed to rain all night. I’ll stoke the fireplace in case we lose power.”
A lot of cabins probably don’t have power. I know my dad’s didn’t; it was used strictly for hunting, and I think he only took me and Klay out there twice—thank fuck. But the Hendrixes’ cabin is far from slumming it and is nicer than my actual childhood house was by a long shot.
That same thick tension that’s been there since she moved back in builds between us again. We’re here, all alone, for the entire weekend. It doesn’t matter that we did what we did inside that classroom a few hours ago. The look in her eyes and the feeling in my bones prove we’re ready again. But why would it not be this way? For so long, we were deprived of each other.
She shrugs her shoulders and takes a step back. “Looks like we still have a little time before it starts. I think I’m going to go in the hot tub.”
Though it’s subtle, there’s a hint of mischief in her voice. She packed to stay the night at her parents’ house. And her parents’ house doesn’t have a hot tub. So, unless she has a secret stash of swimsuits here, I know damn well she doesn’t have one to wear.
I know exactly what she’s doing. And that’s avoiding the deep conversations we need to have. I’ll let her—for now. But only tonight. And then it’s time to face our fucking issues.
Backing away from me, she turns and heads inside. I watch her walk into the house and into the front bedroom, which is hers. The light comes on in the huge window that takes up the entire room. She walks to the bed and pulls off my sweatshirt, followed by her shirt and bra. Even from out here on the porch, I can see her pretty nipples are pebbled, begging to be licked. And when she bends down to tug her jeans and thong off, her eyes catch mine, and she gives me a playful look. Standing there, she gives me a complete view of her perfect body, making me bite down on my bottom lip to stop a hiss.
As much as I want to bury myself inside of my wife, saving our marriage means more to me than that. I know she’s about to get pissed, but I don’t care. I pull in a breath and then head up the stairs to the porch.
Not to fuck her though. But to force her to talk to me.
At least, that’s what I tell myself. But when I round the corner and am met with the vision of her, naked, in the hot tub, I have to remind myself to stay the course. Even in the water, her tits are hardly covered.
When I take a seat in the chair across from the hot tub instead of stripping off and getting in, she pokes her lip out. She’s not used to not getting her way when it comes to me—this I know.
“You coming in or what, superstar?” She moves around, sitting up a little higher so her tits are now fully visible, water dripping down them, only for a second, but long enough to have my cock standing up straight. “The water feels so nice. You should try it.”
“Nah, I’m good,” I drawl. “See, I know exactly what you’re doing. And while I appreciate how much that sweet little pussy wants my dick, I came to this cabin for one thing only. To fucking talk out our shit.” Running my palm over where my cock stands tall under my jeans, I smirk. “See, if you cooperate, this is all yours, baby. Every inch. And every ounce of cum. But not before you talk to me.” Sitting back, I put my hands behind my head lazily. “It’s your call how long this drags out.”
She’s full-on glowering now. “Oh, so now, you’re playing hard to get?” She smirks angrily, shifting her body to lean forward against the side of the spa. “It’s funny you finally want to talk when, for so long, I tried to talk, and you’d just get drunk and ignore me.”
“Yeah, well, that’s in the past now,” I snap, not meaning to, but tired of going in fucking circles. That’s exactly what this feels like though. Circles. “So, let it stay in the fucking past, and let’s move the hell on.”
Standing quickly, she steps out of the hot tub, her body dripping. I know what she’s going to do before she even fucking does it—and when she straddles my lap, grinding her soaked pussy against my hard cock, I curse inwardly at myself.
She presses her tits against my face, working her nipple against my lips, but I do nothing. It fucking kills me, but I hold still and try my best to remain unfazed. There’s no hiding that her body is beginning to shiver as the cold air hits her wet skin.
“This isn’t fixing anything, Paige,” I growl, gripping her hips and pushing her off of me so that she’s standing. “This isn’t what we need to be doing right now. Before I finger-fucked you, you’djust run away. Now? You want to fucking hide behind sex. I want us. I want you. But, Christ almighty, we’ve got to actually talk about our shit.”
Standing up myself, I walk over to the hot tub and grab her a towel before draping it around her. Lifting her up, I toss her over my shoulder and head inside the house. I drop her onto the couch in front of the fireplace. It’s warmed up enough in here now since we turned the heat on, but if we lose power once the wind picks up and the rain starts, I’ll need to start a fire.
Crouching down beside the couch, I run my hand over her head.
“Stop trying to fix everything by doing all the right things. Or saying the most promising words, Kolt. In the past, that might have worked, but that was before we became”—she waves her hand between us, motioning from herself to me—“this. Theworstversion of ourselves.”
“You can’t actually think that,” I say, dipping my head down. “That’s not fucking true.”
Sitting up straighter, she pulls the towel tighter around her body. “You know what? You want to talk so badly? Let’s see how well you can listen.” She spews the words. “I want you to sit there and be quiet. Our problems aren’t small. And they also aren’t going away because you’ve finally realized you want me.”