Page 58 of The Cabin

“I found it yesterday when I was out all morning.” I expect to stop and take in our surroundings, but we don’t. Grayson treks on, and when we do finally stop, my whole body freezes and then catches on fire and then freezes again.

Not five feet in front of us is a hot spring. I can see the steam rising up even in the warm weather. Grayson drops my hand. I turn to look at him, to try to read him, to try to find even a morsel of what he’s thinking. What we’re doing here.

The way he meets my curiosity has butterflies swarming in my stomach. He is looking at me like everything I ever possibly imagined when reading my books and then some. When the heroine describes that moment. The heat, the lust, the passion, the desire, the promise. He’s shown me teasers of this before. But they feel like mild sneak peaks compared to this.

“Disrobe, Sol.” I can’t swallow. My whole mouth has gone completely dry. Oh shit, oh shit, ohshit. I know he sees the panic on my face. He is unrelenting. He just waits there, arms crossed over his chest, slowly burning me with his gaze.

I cannot possibly do this. This is, I mean, this is a fever dream. There is no way this is real.

“Sol,” he croons, stepping closer, “now.”

I think I’m going to start hyperventilating.

With shaky hands I slip my t-shirt over my head. I’m rewarded with his approving eyes and it wakes up a bit of the confidence I’ve been cultivating. He is zeroed in on my breasts. Like he’s ready to devour them.

I know you’re not going to believe me when I say this, but the universe saved my fucking ass with this one. I am so out of clean clothes. I am down to the last dregs of what I brought. I’m talking ratty, holey t-shirts and ripped leggings. And in a strike of pure luck, pure dumb freaking luck, all I had left was that lacy red bra I found the other day to wear. I don’t know why I packed it, I don’t remember packing it, I’m not even sure how I owned it in the first place (I certainly haven’t had much use for it…). All I know is I owe my life to this bra. I will name my first child after this bra.

My fingers hook under the waistband of my leggings and pull down slowly. I’m not quite sure how people make this look sexy, but I’m out here fighting for my life and I’ll be damned if I don’t give it my best shot.

Before I step out of them, I slip off my sneakers and bend down to get rid of my socks. I’m standing in front of the lumberjack of my dreams in just a bra and ugly ass underwear. And he is feasting on the sight of me.

“All of it, Sol. I want everything off.” I’m back in a trance. Still in a trance. I don’t know that I will ever get out of this trance.

I follow his commands like a robot programmed to only listen to him.

I want to cover up. I feel the urge to hide, but I fight it. Modesty is a made-up concept. I can stand here and consensually show my body to this man. This is beautiful and natural and I will not hide from that.

He doesn’t speak, just nods towards the spring.

Icanfeel his eyes watching me from behind. Every fucking step I feel them. The book got that part right.

I have to sit to lower myself into the steaming water and I don’t look back until I reach the other side and turn to face him. He’s undoing the buttons of his shirt. Damn, I’ve never been more appreciative of his cliché button up flannels.

When he reaches the last one he lets the shirt fall open and starts undoing his belt. He is making me look like a total amateur (I am) undressing the way he is. Watching him undress feels like sex. And no one is even touching me.

Before I can prepare myself, he pulls his jeans and boxers down at the same time, and discards his flannel behind him on the ground.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuckkk. This will come as zero surprise, but in my very little experience, I’ve never seen anyone this big. This thick. I don’t remember ever seeing a dick and thinking, ’Damn that looks good,’ but I am definitely thinking that now. I want that in every place I can take it.

He joins me in the spring, wading over to barricade me against the edge, back pressed up against the dirt, his arms closing me in. He keeps his body just out of reach. I am a whore for this position. I am trapped. I am ensnared in his web and I will gladly let him eat me. I will go willingly.

His nose trails from the outside of my shoulder, ever so slowly across to my collarbone, and up my neck. He pauses at my ear. I feel his teeth sink into the skin of my earlobe. Quick. Barely. But my body jolts anyway.

“You drive me crazy, Sol,” he whispers and I get goosebumps on every inch of my skin.

His right arm leaves the side of the spring and dips under the water. I feel him glide one finger from my knee to my hip, pausing to draw lazy circles there, each rotation getting closer and closer to my, ‘heat.’ I inhale a sharp breath. I am wound so tight, my stomach clenched, my thighs pressed together.

“You know the next part, Sol. I know you do.” His lips haven’t left their spot at my ear.

I do. Of course I do. How could I forget? This scene is burned into my memory.

I relax my legs, letting my thighs separate. His groan of approval tickles my ear.

The lazy circles he’s drawing continue, only now they have new territory to explore. They tickle the inside of my right thigh and then he switches arms, pulling the left under the water and placing the right back where it came from. He repeats the same journey from the knee, to the circles, to the tickle on the inside of the thigh on the left side of my body. He moves his fingers up to the valley where my thigh meets my pussy and I whimper. He is so close, but he doesn’t stop. His fingers morph into his whole hand sliding up my stomach and grabbing my breast.

This time, I gasp. “Grayson!”

“God these fucking tits are all I’ve been thinking about for weeks now.” He moves to place open mouth kisses along my jaw while massaging my breast, stopping only to pinch my nipple. It goes hard under his fingers.

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