Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 61037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
River’s shoulders sag. He frowns. “You’re right. I’m getting ahead of myself. It’s all just so much . . .”
“Fun?” I supply, kind of hating that word. I pour the cocoa into the mugs.
“It is fun. It’s good. Fun is good. This is like a fun cabin,” he says.
But will it be like Fight Club? What happens in the Fun Cabin stays in the Fun Cabin?
My jaw clicks, and the barest hint of a headache takes hold in the back of my neck. Absently, I reach up and rub a hand across my nape. I look away from River, rubbing more.
Then, a gentle hand wraps around my neck, startling me, but only for a second. Mostly, it just feels good as he massages. “Here. Let me do that for you. Felt so good when you did that for me,” he whispers, his voice sending goose bumps across my bare skin.
My heart thunders as I close my eyes and let him massage my neck for a few seconds. His fingers drift into my hair. “I just want to go hiking with you—that’s all. I don’t want to pressure you. I think maybe I just want to know that we can still do things together,” he says, and I swear, I can hear the unspoken words.
After we stop fucking.
After we leave the fun cabin.
After this night ends.
Closing my eyes, I wince, holding in all the emotions churning inside me. “We can go then,” I whisper, giving him that much, because it’s better than nothing. I straighten my spine, shift away from him, grab the mug. “Here. Have some,” I say, then hand it to him.
River lifts the cup and takes a drink, his eyes twinkling. “Mmm. Cocoa master indeed. You can come to The Lazy Hammock and serve this. It’d be a hit. You, the hottest guy in the bar, handing out your hot cocoa. Can you make it spiked? Wait. I can just add liquor. We’ll call it . . . Fun Cabin Hot Cocoa. That’ll be its cocktail name,” he says, then wheels around and opens cupboards, hunting for liquor, I suspect.
“Aha!” He brandishes a bottle of tequila. “Can I add a splash?”
“Go for it.”
River pours a generous amount in each cup, then sets down the bottle. “Try it,” he urges.
I pick up the cocoa, take a drink, and savor the burn. It reminds me that all good things hurt just a little. “It’s good.”
“It’ll be our special drink,” he says.
But will it?
Hell if I know.
Hell if I know what is happening.
What the Fun Cabin means. What the hike means. What tomorrow means.
“Sounds good.”
I knock back more of the drink and River does the same, then he puts his mug on the counter. With determination in his gaze, he takes my mug from my hand, sets it down next to his, then cups one cheek. I tremble, and half wish my body would stop reacting to every little touch. But I mostly wish he’d just keep touching me.
“Owen,” River says, and his tone is shockingly vulnerable.
“Yeah?” My heart is beating too loudly, and I want that organ to shut up.
“Asking you to go on a hike is not a bad thing,” he says.
Sighing, I shake my head, feeling like an ass. Hating that he can see through me. Can he see other parts of me? Can he tell how much I want him in every way?
“Right. It’s fun,” I say, light and breezy.
But River isn’t having any of my coolness. He strokes his thumb along my jaw. “I meant what I said. You are so fucking important to me, and this thing between us . . . it’s a little overwhelming.”
Emotions crawl up my throat, fighting to escape. “Same here,” I admit, in a bare whisper.
We’re saying it, and not saying it at the same time.
And that feels awful and amazing all at once.
“And I don’t want to lose you,” he says, his voice starkly tender. Then he leans in and dusts a kiss to my cheek. “And I am stunned by what’s happening. Just utterly stunned.”
Heat sweeps through me.
Desire too. A sharp, pummeling wave.
He’s giving me answer enough. He’s telling me to wait for him. He’s telling me he’s feeling so many things.
And yet I’ve barely said a word to let him know where I’m at—that I’d wait so damn long for him. I’ve been expecting him to read between all my lines, to see inside my soul and know that I’d be his in a heartbeat.
That’s not fair either. To put this all on him.
I rope my hands around his waist, tug him closer. He fits me so well. His body slides so seamlessly against mine. “I’m stunned too, and overwhelmed, but all in a good way,” I say, opening my heart a little more. “And I meant what I said earlier. That I’ve wanted to kiss you for years.”