Page 61 of Prince of the Northwest Forest
And a bulge in his pants.
Hedefinitelywatched me shower. I hide a smile and head for my pack, getting out clean clothing. I put on a soft shirt and underwear and figure that’s as good as it’s going to be tonight.
“Should we deal with our dirty laundry?” I ask.
“Sorry?”
“Shall we wash our clothes?”
“Oh. That.” He nods.
We do our washing in the sink, then wring it out as best we can and hang it in front of the fire. When it dries, it will be stiff and smell like woodsmoke, but I’m used to that. And it will be nice to have clean things.
When we’re done, Justice shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Do you want me to sleep on the floor? I will,” he says hastily. “If you don’t want to share a bed?—”
I hold up a hand. “I’m fine with sharing, if you are. Let’s stoke the fire and get to sleep.” I poke my head outside to make sure Hazel and Martin are okay—they give me nods, even if we can’t communicate with words—and I crawl onto the wooden bed.
The mattress is firm but comfortable, and it creaks when Justice settles in beside me.
He yawns loudly. “Wow, we walked a long way today. Do you have any idea how far we came?”
“Maybe fifteen or twenty miles? I’m not sure. There was some pretty steep elevation for part of it.”
Justice nods into the pillow. “No wonder I’m beat.”
I pull the blanket over both of us. He stiffens at first, then relaxes into it.
Having him be this close and so far away is driving me to distraction. I try not to move, but the more I can’t move, the more I want to. And I feel like I need to blurt my feelings to him.
After about twenty minutes, I have to say something. “Are you asleep?” I whisper.
“No,” he says, his voice not even sleepy.
“Can I tell you something?”
“Of course. We can always tell each other deep things.”
“I don’t think I’m straight,” I say in a rush.
Justice’s body goes as stiff as a board.
We lie in the dark, and I can hear his breathing.
“Oh?” he finally asks. “Why is that?”
Despite everything, my cheeks heat. “I think you can guess.”
I can hear the smile in his voice. “I want you to say it.”
“Because I think I might … like you.”
He reaches out a hand and trails a finger down my forearm. But then he pulls it back. “And we can’t do anything about it. Or rather, you’re not going to.”
I shake my head into the mattress, then realize he can’t see me. “No. I can’t. But it’s absolutely overtaking all of my thoughts. I want to …” I sigh. “I justwant. You. I want you, Justice.” I sigh even louder. “And I can’t have you.”
“Oh, if you could, I’d be all yours,” he whispers.
And that makes it even worse. I’m attracted to him, and it seems it’s reciprocated. We’re sharing a bed.
