Page 29 of Curvy Cabin Fever
“No?” he goads. “Because you look like someone who spent all night thinking about something in particular. Or, I dunno—someone.”
I finally turn my head, meeting his gaze. It’s a mistake.
Because he knows.He fucking knows—he’s enjoying this.
I shake my head, turning back to the lake. “Are you done?”
Morgan hums, taking another slow sip of coffee. “Not even close.”
I grit my teeth.Patience, Rhett. Patience.
“Are you jealous?” he asks casually, like he’s fishing for a reaction.
I don’t give him one.
He chuckles again, pushing off the railing. “Relax, man. I’m just fucking with you.”
Yeah. That’s the fucking problem.
The door creaks open again, and this time, it’s not Morgan I feel. It’sher.
Aria steps onto the porch, rubbing her arms against the cold. Her hair is damp, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the shower, and she’s wearing Morgan’s hoodie.
My stomach fucking plummets.
She hesitates when she sees me, like she’s not sure if she should speak.
Good.
Because I don’t think I want to listen to a word she has to say.
Morgan glances between us, smirking against the rim of his coffee cup. “Morning, beautiful.”
Aria gives him a small smile, but her eyes flick to me—just for a second.
And fuck, that second is enough.
Because I see the hesitation. Theguilt.
Like she knowsexactlywhat last night did to me.
And maybe that should make me feel better.
But it doesn’t.
It just makes me fucking furious.
“I’m surprised you two came up for air,” I say through gritted teeth.
I can’t help it—I want them to fucking know how I feel.
“Oh, I’m sure we will get right back to it,” Morgan quips, just as the door opens for a third time.
What is this? Let’s all stress Rhett the fuck out?
“Where wereyoulast night?” Damien mumbles, burying his head into Aria’s hair, his arms circling her stomach from behind. “This isn’tmyhoodie, Aria.”
Her eyes flicker to me when I make the mistake of staring at her for a second too long, but I’m perplexed.
