Page 5 of The Cabin

“I’ll set you up on the couch, keep it elevated until I get back.” Scooping me back up into his arms, he sets me on the plaid couch near the coal stove. The trip is short this time, so I don’t have the chance to worry about where to direct my gaze.

How does he smell so good? After chopping wood and carrying me with my stench of carcass rubbing all over him? Why do men always get the best of everything?

“I could, um, bring your coloring books to you?” He’s holding back a smirk and I shoot him a glare. Of course my coloring book bag, (because why wouldn’t I have an entire bag just for coloring books?) is wide open on the floor.

“No, thank you.” I huff, crossing my arms and trying to hold on to any remaining dignity I may have left.

“Okay, I’ll be back. Remember, elevated.” He winks on his way out, and somehow it doesn’t look stupid or cringe-worthy at all. It looks good. Really good.

About thirty seconds goes by in complete silence before I regret choosing my pride over a source of entertainment. Because now I have exactly two options: I can sit here and smell the death reeking from the coal stove, or I can sit here and spiral about how outrageously unfair life is.

I’ll take the first.

Chapter 3

Swirling my toes in the creek absentmindedly, I turn the page of the book I’m currently immersed in. The water feels surprisingly warm as the sun shines brightly through the trees. I’ve really lucked out with the weather. It’s been three days of sunshine. Three days of not having to light a fire at night,¡qué suerte!And three days of sneaking peeks at a sweaty, shirtless, muscle-y Grayson between chapters of my books. The creek gives me an incredible view of the renovations he’s doing. Far enough away that I don’t seem stalker-ish, but close enough that I can see the muscles in his biceps dance. He makes for a nice palette cleanser when I need a break from the plot. And while he did come back with ice for my foot and supplies to clean the coal stove the other day, he has no idea I don’t know how to use it, even now that it's sparkling clean. I’m keeping that little secret tucked tightly away, right between my palms as I pray the warmer weather we’ve been having at night continues so I won’t have to admit his kindness was for nothing.

I gave up on meditation and coloring two days ago and decided to try reading instead. I started withWildby Cheryl Strayed. Cliché, I know, but necessary. I’m on a journey. Day Two broughtEat, Pray, Love. Standard. And now, on Day Three of my, ‘read until I’m a fully functioning human being with no trauma’ bender, is when things have started to take a turn.

When digging through my bags this morning (I swear half of my time is spent digging through my bags), ready for my next read, I stumbled across a book that made my stomach do a flip. What was it doing in here? I knew I hadn’t picked it up at the thrift book store I went to before coming to the cabin.

I had gone to stock up for my trip, and the woman at the counter had a million great recommendations, so whatever she suggested I threw in my pile on the counter. I just told her I had some healing to do, and I trusted her opinion. But I didn’t remember grabbing,Billionaire Bad Boy…

When I had picked it up and opened the cover with the sexy CEO on it, there was a bright pink sticky note stuck inside. ‘Learning to love ourselves again is a big process. Sometimes, it’s nice to be reminded of parts of ourselves we’ve left unattended for a while…trust me. This one usually does the trick (;’ old-school winky face and all. My cheeks had heated up, and I couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. It was that obvious to a complete stranger that I hadn’t had any kind of sexual encounter in,joder, almost three years?

Three years. God, that feels really sad. Even though it has only been a little over two years since I walked in on Brian and that woman in my bed. On my nice sheets. Things had started falling apart long before then. He was busier and busier at work, spending more and more time away. We hardly knew each other, let alone had any sort of intimacy going on. Even when things were, ‘good,’ Brian’s idea of a romantic evening was to shove his hand in my pants for ten seconds and then say, “You ready?” Charming, I know. These are the kinds of things I’ve been starting to realize while I lay on my bottom bunk at night and stare blankly at the walls, willing myself not to spiral. Which, I don’t always succeed at. But I’ve been trying to leave the self-loathing out of the equation. Keyword: trying.

It’s still early, and I’m only a chunk of chapters into my new book. I had slipped the cover off and left it inside. It’s silly, I know. But for some reason I felt a little shy. I hadn’t thought of myself as a woman, let alone a desirable woman in, well, forever. And I certainly hadn’t experienced any kind of pleasure in a long time, not even from myself. Maybe the woman from the book store was right. Maybe that was a key ingredient to getting back on my feet. I mean, I’m here now, I might as well try everything?

Movement above catches my eye and I can see Grayson grabbing his ax again. We haven’t spoken since my first morning here aside from a ‘hey’ or a silent wave of acknowledgement. He works from the crack of dawn until the lack of daylight makes it impossible. He’s definitely determined, that’s for sure, and works with a sort of passion, a sort of fury that makes my stomach clench. He’s almost always dirty, in a really sexy kind of way. I even find myself staring at him chug his water bottles. The way his lips wrap around the top, often drinking in such a frenzy that some of the water drips down to his chest… it isindecent. His arms raise above his head and he slashes the ax down through the air. The muscles in his back move across his golden skin, and I hear a loud crack as the log splits in two. I’m sure he could probably split me in two, too.

Returning my attention back to my book, I grudgingly pick up where I left off. It’s been an interesting journey reading my first ever spicy book, but it doesn’t even remotely compare to watching Grayson work. Unfortunately, I have to limit my staring bouts, so as to not raise any suspicion. And I have definitely stared about fifteen seconds too long this time around. My eyes scan the page to find where I stopped.

His eyes find mine from across the conference room table. One of his assistants was droning on and on about the new profit margins we were supposed to be reaching for, but all I could focus on was the way his suit hugged his massive biceps. Biceps I’d like to have pin me down as he rails me from behind. Right here, right now, in front of all these people.

My eyes grow wide, and I take a quick peek to make sure no one is around. Why would anyone be around? I’m in the middle of the woods that happens to also be in the middle of nowhere.

His eyes darken, tongue flicking out to moisten his lips. My eyes follow the movement and his chest rumbles, giving me a devilish glare. I have about two seconds to prepare myself before the vibrations begin. Oh, fuck.

He sees the way my body tenses and quirks one of his eyebrows. “Everything okay, Ms. Stewart,” he taunts, interrupting his assistant. The vibrations kick up a notch.

“Yes, sir,” I say, beginning to fidget. I knew the remote for the vibrating eggs he stuck inside me this morning was in his pocket. He made sure to flash it to me before the start of the meeting.

My eyebrows have disappeared into my hairline. He put what… where? I squirm a bit in my beach chair turned creek chair.

If possible, the vibrations get even more intense and I can feel heat pooling in my panties. My shirt feels impossibly tight across my chest, my breasts aching for his touch. That bastard knew what he was doing to me. He slides one muscled arm underneath the table and I watch as he slowly moves it up and down. I almost let out a whimper. He’s touching himself, when all I want is for him to be touching me.

He’s doingwhat?Where?! I squirm a bit more in my chair, freezing when I come to a realization so outrageous I almost start laughing. I’m... uh…wet. Like laughably wet. Now this is just embarrassing.

I slam the book closed and lay my head in my hands. I feel achy, and am mortified when I open my eyes to see my nipples peaked, showing through my shirt. Is this what my life has become? Reading smut and secretly staring at hot, shirtless men? I press my thighs more tightly together and cross my arms over my chest.Pull yourself together, Sol.

Grayson is attempting to rip a hunk of tree trunk apart where his ax didn’t quite make it all the way through. A mortifyingly feral moan escapes my lips when he succeeds, ripping the log clean in two.

I shoot up out of my chair and walk as quickly as possible back into the cabin. I feel like a horny teenage boy for crying out loud! The image of the way his biceps were shaking is playing over and over in my head. His strong hands gripping the slit his ax had made…

Okay! Okay. I can fix this. I can get things under control. All I have to do is, well… I have to get off. I mean, that’s normal, right? Women get off all the time. With partners, without partners. There are probably thousands of women around the world getting off right now.That’s not an odd thought to have.Not at all.

Women deserve pleasure. I can have pleasure. It’s not totally insane to hide in my dark cabin and touch myself while I think about my super-hot neighbor I’ve been basically stalking.

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