Page 91 of The Cabin

Okay. Here we go. You can do this. People do this all the time. There are probably millions of people doing this exact thing around the world.It’s a weird thought this time too, Sol.

I sift through the drawers of my things trying to salvage my least unappealing sports bra and underwear. In a very sad turn of events, I lost the red lace bra somewhere on the way back from the meadow and haven’t been able to find it since.

Oh my god. Stick the knife into my chest a little freaking harder. I don’t think I’ve learned my lesson.

He bought me freaking lingerie. Like hot, fun lingerie. He hated my sports bras because I hid behind them and so he bought me lingerie. CAN SOMEBODY PLEASE CHECK IF MY HEART IS STILL BEATING? Because I think I’m about to pass away from how freaking wonderful he is and how freaking awful I am. Okay. That’s it. We’re doing this.

I walk out in his robe with a little surprise underneath and find him in the living room doing something on his iPad.

“Whatcha doing?” I purr. He doesn’t look up, he’s right in the middle of typing something, but after a few seconds he lifts his eyes to me and says, “I’m just job…,” the sentence hangs on his tongue. He’s too busy taking me in to finish it. I haven’t even shown him anything sexy yet, but I know the sight of me in his robe wakes up Possessive Grayson. “...hunting.”

“Anything good?” I ask, swaying my hips as I approach him, just enough that he can’t help but shift his gaze towards them. I ever so gently take the iPad out of his hands and throw it to the other side of the couch, taking advantage of the new vacancy on his lap. Both knees settle themselves on either side of his thighs, and I lower myself so that my bottom rests on top of them. The position causes the lower half of his robe to split open, and he’s transfixed on the portion of my legs that it reveals.

“Grayson,” I prompt as I tilt his chin up so he’s looking at me.

“Um, yeah…I –”

“The jobs, anything good?”

“Um…maybe…there might be…” I lose him again. It’s totally my fault and it’s a huge confidence booster, but I do lose him. I’ve started trailing a finger up and down his jaw, just barely touching.

“Might be what, Grayson?” And with the strength of a thousand suns that I am somehow stealing from, I take that same finger and suck on it for a few seconds before wiping the spit on his bottom lip, dragging it down far enough that I can see his bottom teeth.

To be honest, I’m not sure he’s breathing.

“Might be some…prospects.” The last word comes out as no more than a breath. I let the left shoulder of the rope slip off. You can see the black lacy strap of the bra I chose, and I can tell that he recognizes it. That he knows.

With both hands I glide the top half of the robe off and let it pool around my waist. He throws his head back, squeezing his eyes shut, gritting a thousand curse words out under his breath before pulling it back up to study me like a goddamn work of art. His fingers twitch next to where my knees are, and I have to use them to pin his hands in place. “Fucking hell,” he whispers, a vein in his neck is popping out.

“Is that what you do when you’re not reading my books?” I ask, leaning in close, so close that his lips part in anticipation before I pull back. He is so responsive to everything I do. I feel like the freaking Queen or something. His dick jumps under my ass. “How’d you choose the shower scene? I haven’t read that far yet.” I tease just under where his sleeves end on his biceps.

“I read too far. I wasn’t…I wasn’t expecting your uh…little rewrite.” I don’t know howlittleanything was in that rewrite.

My right hand slides over his shoulder and up his neck. I tangle my fingers in his hair and use my grip to pull his head to the side, putting his ear right under my mouth. “How’d you know I’d like it? That it would be dog ear worthy…” I feel his arms strain against my knees. He wants to touch. To feel.

I am surviving out here by the skin of my freaking teeth. I am running on pure balls and made up sex scenes I’ve read in books. That and the need to make him know how much I appreciate him. How much I like his touch. The way he has me desperate for him…

And all we’ve been doing is recreating book scenes anyway, right? I’ve got plenty of reference material stored in my brain.

I’ve still got his face turned away from me, and I let my tongue dart out, moving along his ear for just a moment. “You like the sentimental stuff. You want spice with romance. You prefer the scenes where the main character gets dicked downandfeels adored. Cherished. It’s your favorite combo.” I almost break my character. I almost melt like an ice cream cone all over his lap. He knows me better than I think I know myself.

Don’t get distracted, Sol.

I tug his head back so he’s looking up at me again and use my other hand to play with his neck. To trace nonsensical patterns, drag my nails down it, maybe give it a little squeeze a few times. “And what about you, Grayson? What’s your favorite kind of scene?”

I can feel him swallow under my grasp. “The same. But from the opposite perspective. I like control, I like to own. But I get off on giving pleasure, on making you sob out my name. I like knowing I’m the one making you feel that way. And then I wanna take care of you and hold you and make sure you know how beautiful you are.” Him saying things like that is going to make me blow my goddamn cover. Holy shit. And the fact that he references me instead of the character? Yeah, I’m doomed.

The hand on his neck drags my nails down to his chest, over his stomach and stops at the bottom of his shirt. “Mm. So which was your favorite? That you read?” I tease the skin just above his jeans. I’m so tempted to start grinding on his dick. He’s so hard under me.

He clenches his teeth and his hips lift in frustration. “The beach.”

“Oooh. I liked that one. But how would you do it? You always do them so much better. Walk me through it.” I push his shirt up and let myself roam his body, massaging and gently scratching. He leans his head back again to try and collect himself.

“I, uh –” His head rolls and he hisses when my nails work down his abdomen and then switch to light tickles along the edge of his pants.

“I’d uh, be watching you watch the sunset. And I’d watch as your eyes glisten over, happy, relaxed. And I would turn your face towards mine, taking your lips, kissing you until I have to come up for air. I’d want you in my lap, breathless, begging for me to take you. To make you feel good.” He chokes trying to start his next sentence, watching me slip the robe off all the way. He is barely holding on to his restraint. His arms are fighting against my legs so hard I have to bear down, rubbing very sensitive areas on his cock, just to keep them in place.

“Keep going.”

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