Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“If there’s ever anything I can do to help with it, let me know.”
A wave of longing passes through me. My close friends and family who know about my anxiety aren’t unsupportive, but they’ve never actually talked to me about it this way. And romantic partners have all been judgmental, wanting to know why I was anxious and how to fix it.
Lincoln seems to accept that it’s just part of who I am.
“Thanks,” I murmur. “Do you have any weaknesses?”
He laughs lightly. “Hell yes I do.”
A few moments of quiet pass while I wait for him to elaborate.
He sighs softly. “I like to be in control. I hold on to grudges for too long. And I eat too many Reese’s cups.”
I laugh and slide my palm over his chest, tilting my face toward him. “Reese’s cups?”
“They’re my crack. I could take down an entire bag at once.”
“Well, hockey players need a lot of calories.”
“Tell my trainers that. The older I get, the harder it is to keep weight off.”
I furrow my brow. “You have to worry about that?”
“Yeah. Your brother has a freakish metabolism and can eat anything he wants, but I have to eat pretty clean. Extra pounds slow me down.”
I yawn, sleepiness tugging my eyes closed. “Don’t you think it should be colder in here?”
It’s cold, but not ice cold, like it should be with the fire out.
“This place seems to be well insulated.”
I want to stay awake and keep enjoying this, but his warmth is lulling me back to sleep. The last thing I feel is him tightening his hold on me slightly, keeping me close.
Several hours later, Lincoln walks back into the cabin with water to fill the tub when I burst out of the storage room.
“If I told you I just found the most amazing thing possible in the storage room, what would you think it is?”
“Uh...” He lowers his brows, the wrinkle between them appearing. “A breakfast buffet with bacon and eggs?”
“No, better. This is something that will last longer than one meal.” I hold up my hand with my find. “Toothbrushes! And toothpaste!”
“Hell yeah.”
“I’m going to brush for five full minutes. There’s a big metal box of toiletries in there.”
I don’t mention that it has tampons, pads and condoms—so many condoms—because that feels awkward.
Lincoln was busy making oatmeal in the kitchen when I woke up earlier. I was hoping to wake up first and enjoy some more time snuggled up to him, but no such luck. And in the few hours we’ve been up, neither of us has said anything about it.
As I watch him pouring a bucket of water into the tub, I wonder what he’d say if I told him he doesn’t have to look away when I undress this time. I almost burst out laughing. He’d flip his shit. Lincoln is a gentleman. And while I find that attractive, I find my mind wandering to thoughts of him not being a gentleman.
We’ve started dipping into the drinking water supply in the storage room, deciding we can refill the containers with snow when they’re empty. I pour myself a glass of water and use it to brush my teeth, and I don’t take the clean feeling for granted.
Lincoln takes a break from the water to brush his teeth, too, and I hold back a joke that’s not really a joke about us kissing to test out our fresh breath.
“Want some help filling the tub?” I offer instead.
“Nope. I’ve got it.”
“You go first this time.”
He lifts a corner of his lips in a smile. “You’re not using my dirty bathwater, Trin. You go first.”
I hold his gaze for a few seconds, replaying the sound of him calling me Trin and liking it. A lot. In less than a month, I’ve gone from being annoyed by him to wanting him to ravage me.
He said he’d help with my anxiety however he could, and orgasms are scientifically proven to be relaxing.
Imagining his powerful body on top of me sends a shot of arousal coursing through me. He’s dead sexy in the looks department, but it’s everything else about him that has me wanting him so badly I can’t think about anything else.
What busted up ankle? What anxiety? All I can think about is how he looks and sounds when he comes.
“All ready for you,” he announces.
He finished filling the tub while I imagined him doing every X-rated thing I could come up with. I’m over admonishing myself about it. We’re two single, consenting adults alone in a cabin with one bed. What better way to pass the time than getting lost in each other?
I get a towel and clean clothes, my heart hammering as I build up my confidence to make the first move. He’s too much of a gentleman; it has to be me.