Chapter 30
Renzoand I haven’t seen home in twenty days, almost three weeks. It’s hard to fathom.
I’ve probably lost ten pounds. We’re both looking quite a bit leaner than when we arrived. And I had no idea someone could get used to being this filthy so quickly. That’s not true. We’re not filthy so much as au naturel. No soap or deodorant. No razor. No toothpaste or mouthwash. I can’t imagine how badly we’d stink if it were summer and heat was added to the mix.
As it is, I hardly notice the smell and even find comfort in Renzo’s natural musk when I curl up with him at night. Now that we’ve found a sort of peace between us, everything seems a little less burdensome. I even have faith that we’ll find a way home despite having no idea how that will happen. Being a team gives me confidence. Maybe a little less so in regard to what happens after we’re home, but that’s a work in progress.
I can’t imagine what my family has gone through. The fear and uncertainty. Have they given up yet, or are they still holding out hope? Mari, on the other hand, may not have even noticed my absence. I’m surprised to realize that something about being here with Renzo makes my time with Mari seem so pointless and empty. Why have I let myself be content with such a shallow connection?
Because it was easier. Less risk.
It worked for a while, but I don’t think I’ll feel the same when we get back. If we get back, regardless of how things work with Renzo, it’s time to end things with Mari.
No ifs, Shae. You will get back.
Today is by far the warmest day we’ve seen. It’s only March third, so any warm-up is likely to be brief. Not knowing is the hardest part.
“Pretty day for fishing. You going to get back at it now that you’ve had success?” I ask Renzo while we sit at the table after eating. He hasn’t fished since bringing me his catch over a week ago.
He considers my question before answering. “No, I don’t think I will.”
“But that would be another food source for the trip home.” I’m surprised he doesn’t at least want to try. It’s not like we have anything better to do.
“Chances are awfully slim that I’ll catch another.”
“You don’t know that. Maybe you’re just getting the hang of it.”
He stares at me with challenge darkening his eyes. “Unless I happen by another hawk, we won’t be eating fish anytime soon.”
My head cocks to the side. “A hawk? What does that have to do with anything?”
“Because that’s how I caught that fish. I stole it. From a hawk.”
I stare blankly back at him as I envision how that might have played out, then burst into laughter from the visual. I doubt he actually wrestled the fish out of the hawk’s mouth, but that’s the scene in my head, and it’s hilarious.
“Oh my God. You did not, you cheater,” I say with a laughing grin.
His lips widen in a devious smile. “I won that bet fair and square. We never stipulated how I had to catch the fish.”
I can’t be mad. It’s flattering to know he was willing to do whatever it took to win. Whatever it took to be with me.
“Touché.” I raise my water cup in salute. “I’ll be more specific next time.”
Those last two words hang in the air around us. Next time.
We haven’t been intimate since the blow job. I told him I needed time, and he’s been incredibly patient. I haven’t felt the slightest pressure from him to go beyond my comfort zone. That doesn’t mean the intense chemistry between us died. It’s still every bit as intoxicating. And each day that passes chips away at my resolve to keep things platonic while I sort my feelings. The mention of next time has my brain replaying the thrill of that day he won the bet, bringing a flush to my cheeks.
If Renzo’s now hooded eyes are any indication, I’d say he’s doing the same.
The pull is too strong—it drowns out everything else and coaxes me to my feet. I straddle Renzo’s legs and sit on his lap, my chest straining forward instinctively for his touch.
“This isn’t me making a decision.” I drape my arms over his shoulders and roll my hips.
His hands squeeze my thighs and pull me against his thickening cock. “Oh, no? What is it, then?”
“Important research. What if the last time you made me come was a fluke?”
“Twice,” he corrects in a slow, sultry tone. “I made you come twice, but I agree. You should do your due diligence.”
“Exactly. I’m glad you understand.”
He stands, holding me in his arms with my legs clasped around his middle, and transfers us to the bed.
His body feels so incredible over mine. The weight of him. The controlled flex of mature muscle, hinting at the power within. He could easily fit in here as a hardened lumberjack with his new beard and scraggly hair as well as he could back home in a finely tailored suit running the city. I love how either suits him equally well. With his commanding air of confidence, I can’t imagine him being out of place anywhere.
He works his way down my body, kissing and nipping until I’m writhing with anticipation. When his tongue first touches my slit, all my inner muscles clench hungrily. I want more. I want him inside me.
I can tell myself all day long that I’m simply horny, but I know it’s so much more than that. It’s Renzo. He stirs up this maddening need inside me. It doesn’t matter how many times I get off; I’ll always want more of him.
Renzo gives me a spectacular orgasm that leaves my head spinning. I feel so incredible that my inner voice forgets her warnings and starts spouting reasons not to give up hope that we can make this work. I let myself float on a river of optimism and dopamine. After all I’ve been through, I deserve the moment of happiness.
My blissed-out state amuses Renzo, who kisses my belly button with a chuckle and stands.
“Where are you going? It’s your turn,” I say lazily.
He leans back down, scooping the back of my neck in his rough palm. “The next time I come, it’ll be inside you. Until then, I’ll wait.” He seals his proclamation with a kiss, which is good because I have no idea what to say in return.
“I’m going to replenish the firewood pile. Holler if you need anything.” His husky words wrap me in a blanket of warmth that stays with me even after he heads outside. I’m so comfortable and content that I wrap up in the quilt and drift to sleep, wrenched awake sometime later by a horrifying roar.
The bear. He’s back.