Page 46 of The Cabin

I raise an eyebrow and cross my arms over my chest. Did he just use the wordsplice?

He cues up a new song.

Die A Happy Manby Thomas Rhett starts playing. Again. When did my life become country?

“I think we can add the bridge and the final chorus. It fits the theme.” He skips ahead to the end and I listen.

I don't need no vacation, no fancy destination

Baby, you're my great escape

We could stay at home, listen to the radio

Dance around the fireplace

It continues on, playing the chorus, and I’m shocked. It kind of works. “Oh. Wow. I think that actually could work.”

A smirk. “Pfft. Like there was any doubt.” He backs the song up and motions for me to come closer. I step so we’re about three feet apart. “No, lollipop. Like actually come here.” He grabs a hand and pulls me into his chest.

“Grayson, I am like, so sweaty.”

“Great, same.” He twirls me some, and has us sway together. He’s marking different options, brainstorming, and I’m just his ragdoll to move as he pleases apparently.

After the fifth or sixth run through of the music, Grayson says, “Okay. I just need you to follow me, alright?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Sparkles shine on his teeth as he smiles. “No.”

I take a deep breath and hold my arms out, letting him know I’m his to move around however he wants.

The music plays once more, and Grayson grabs me by the hips, bringing me right up against his front. He places one of my hands on his hip, and interlocks the other with his own, holding them both above us. The remaining hand falls to my lower back.

He moves us in slow, large circles. I cannot look anywhere but his eyes. His expression has turned intense, so freaking sexy. He doesn’t even know he’s doing it. He just screams sex all the time.

After a rotation or two, I’m spun so that my back is to his chest. He lifts one of my arms to wrap around his neck, and splays both of our hands across my stomach. Fingers travel and graze right before he locks the hands that are on my stomach together and spins me out, only to whip me right back in. I’m breathless and panting. There are excruciatingly slow drags of his hands on me. There are dips and grinds and every time he has me face him, I am totally entranced.

The song plays its last few bars, Grayson holding me, bending me back for one final sweep of our bodies. When it’s completely quiet, Grayson leans close to my ear and murmurs, “It should’ve been me dancing with you at the bar. And next time,” he pulls back to make eye contact, “it will be.”

Chapter 15

“How am I supposed to read with the intolerable amount of noise you make?” I’ve finally caught him in between the extremely shrill electric saw noises coming from his spot around the side of the house every three point five seconds.

His dumb (gorgeous) face comes into view wearing a dangerous smile. “What are you reading, lollipop? Anything good?” I wanna slap the stupid look right off his face. He knows damn well what kind of stuff I’m reading. Which, by the way, I’m not sure I can keep doing in this cabin with the lumberjack never more than twenty feet away from me. It’s torture. And kind of hot.

And we are absolutely not going to talk about the dancing yesterday. Absolutely not. So don’t even ask. It was heat exhaustion, or… I don’t know…a mirage.

“C’mon, Sol, why don’t we have a read aloud. I wanna support your hobbies.” There’s an evil twinkle in his eyes.

I change my voice to sickly sweet. “And how would we do that, Grayson, when you’re back there practicing your singing so loudly? Is that the new style? Electric shrill?” I plaster the fakest smile I can muster on my face.

“Hey. We’re both adults. Why don’t we compromise? I’ll stop sawing for the day if you read to me.” I can tell by his expression that he thinks he has the upper hand. That I’ll chicken out because I’m too shy. Well guess what, pal. I’ve been reading smut for like seventeen days straight and it has emboldened me with a blind, totally uncalled for confidence that I am drinking up like a man coming out of forty days in the desert.

“Okay, so this one is called,The Orc Ruler.” I say, showing him the cover like they do in libraries. He plops down onto the edge of the porch, sets his elbows on his knees and props his head up with his hands, feigning rapt attention.

“For context, the king of the orcs has captured a human woman and is keeping her as his bride.”

I open my mouth to begin the excerpt for today’s reading when Grayson interrupts. “What is an orc?”

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