Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Trinity
My head is made of concrete. I let it fall back onto the pillow immediately, groaning from the pounding sensation.
I had a lot of whiskey last night. Though I’m hurting right now, I also feel lighter. Linc and I laughed more than we have in our entire time here. We shared a lot. We both leaned into a free fall, not worrying about how hard we might hit at the end.
We both chose all truths in our game, learning each other’s secrets and laughing about our embarrassments. I thought I might pee my pants from laughing when he told me his story of getting an erection in front of his entire class in seventh grade because he was hot for his teacher. And now he knows I mispronounced Lena Horne’s last name in a speech in front of my entire middle school, humiliating myself.
Though I don’t want to move, I need water. When I sit up and look around the cabin, I don’t see Linc anywhere. My heart flutters with worry as I slide out of bed.
The bottle of whiskey is still on the kitchen table, about a quarter of it left. There’s a note next to it.
Outside exercising. Be back soon.
L
I smile at the message, which feels almost intimate. After last night, I have a better understanding of Linc. There are still so many questions I want to ask him, but I’m not sure my body can handle more Truth or Dare Boggle just yet.
I drink a glass of water, refill it and drink half of the second glass. Today needs to be about rest and hydration for me.
My ankle is much better and letting loose last night helped my anxiety. If it wasn’t winter, Lincoln and I would probably pack up supplies and start hiking, but we can’t risk hitting a snowstorm.
I wonder if my office has been cleaned out. Has someone been hired to replace me at work? When I do eventually make it back home, will I still have a job?
Even with a hangover, questions still fly through my mind at a rapid-fire pace. I want to go back home—very much. But I don’t hate it here. Not at all. There are no alarm clocks or schedules. I’ve never spent so much time just being , reading books and listening to music.
Life can’t be like this all the time, but the break from sixty-hour workweeks has been nice.
I start making the oatmeal we eat for breakfast every day, fantasizing about having a plate of hot, crispy bacon to go with it. And oh my god , fresh-squeezed orange juice. Just thinking about the sweet juice and the salty bacon makes my mouth water.
It’ll be nice to get back to the land of grocery stores and restaurants, but for now, I’m grateful for what we do have. This cabin and its food store saved our lives.
Lincoln opens the front door, a gust of icy air sending snowflakes in with him.
“Hey, morning.” He takes off his coat and hangs it up.
“Morning.”
Why does it feel like we slept together last night? I focus on my oatmeal prep, knowing I’m going to blush the first time our eyes meet. Our kiss and all the secrets we shared left me with a floaty, dreamy feeling that only gets stronger now that he’s back in the cabin with me.
“Want some oatmeal?” I ask lightly.
“Yeah, that sounds great.”
“How much snow did we get?”
“Uh...a foot, maybe?” He groans with satisfaction after pulling off a snow boot. “I made snowshoes. That’s a fucking workout, walking through thirty inches of snow in those things.”
“Well, you’re a man, so it’s probably more like eighteen inches.”
“You’ve got the jokes!” I smile as his deep voice gets closer to me. “Will you be here all week?”
I shrug. “Depends how good the audience is.”
I feel him standing behind me and I’m about to turn around and get the uncomfortable eye-contact blush out of the way when he wraps his arms around me from behind.
My lips part. It feels amazing, having his big, carved body against my back. I set down the oatmeal spoon and lean back against him. His arms are banded around me beneath my breasts and the cold seeps from him to me, but it doesn’t bother me at all.
“I’m sweaty,” he says apologetically.
“It’s okay.”
It really, really feels like we slept together last night. This is the morning-after cuddle session.
“How you feeling?” he asks, his warm breath near my ear giving me goose bumps.
“Like death.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I’m hurting too. It was fun, though.”
“You want a rematch later?”
“You might want to check in with your liver and see if you’re still up for it.”
I laugh. “Maybe we’ll need to modify the rules.”
“I’m down. I’ll have to move around a few things on my schedule, of course.”
“Of course. My day is packed, too.”
“Could you pencil in a little time after we eat for some dancing?”
My heart races with excitement. “Dancing?”
He steps back and I immediately miss his closeness. Leaning a hip on the kitchen counter, he looks down at me. “I know you want to grind all over me while we dance to some Sinatra.”
I laugh hard at that. “So much.”
His expression turns serious. “You’re beautiful.”
My heart stutters as I lock eyes with him. “I bet you say that to all the women you’ve survived plane crashes with.”
The corners of his lips turn up in a soft smile. “Don’t deflect, Trin. You’re beautiful. You make me wish I could be...different.”
“Different?”
He looks away and clears his throat. “Better.”
I wonder if he’s talking about his hang-up about sex. Because if there’s something I understand very well, it’s feeling like you’re not right for most people. Too much. I know exactly how it feels to look like you have it all together on the outside when, inside, you’re falling apart.
“I wouldn’t change a thing about you,” I say softly.
I stir the oatmeal, which is close to boiling over, and he pushes away from the counter, the moment over.
Hopefully he’ll think about what I said. My attraction to him has grown so much deeper over the past day now that I know more about him.
I understand him in a way I can’t even put into words.
An hour later, we’ve finished breakfast and filled our empty five-gallon job with snow. Lincoln tended the fire and put an Etta James album on a few minutes ago, and he’s standing in the open floor space by the record player waiting for me.
I used a washcloth to clean myself up and changed into a clean flannel, but I’m missing my toiletries pretty hard right now. I want makeup and perfume. My many flat irons and curling irons. My deliciously scented coconut lotion.
“Come on,” Linc says. “Don’t be nervous.”
“Oh, I’m...”
His gaze locks onto mine and I don’t even bother finishing the sentence. Because yeah, I’m nervous. Even my laugh sounds uptight.
“Is it weird that I was okay getting naked for you, but I’m nervous about dancing with you?”
His lips quirk into a smile. “Would you feel more comfortable getting naked to dance?”
My laugh is genuine this time. “No, I’m good.”
He puts a hand out and my heart hammers harder. How is he so damn sweet? I’ve never known a man who didn’t do everything in his power to get me into bed as quickly as possible if he thought he had a chance at it.
I take the few steps separating us and put my hand in his. He laces our fingers together and wraps his free arm around my waist, pulling me close. I rest my head against his shoulder and put my arm around his back.
We sway in silence for a couple of songs. Then “At Last” starts playing, and he releases my hand and puts his other arm around me, holding me close against him. I wrap my other arm around his back, one hand on his neck. I slide my fingers into his hair.
He’s hard, and a delicious thrill passes through me. Whether he lets himself do anything more than this with me, I at least know he wants me. And I want him back so much it’s an ache inside me.
I feel him sliding the back of my shirt up, moving it until he can put his arms around my bare skin. The feel of his touch on my lower back makes me exhale a sigh.
A log falls and crackles sound from the fireplace. It’s not really even warm in here, but I’m warm from head to toe from being this close to Lincoln.
“How many times have you been in love?” he asks me softly.
“Mmm...once, I guess.”
“With the college guy?”
“No, the guy I dated after college. It lasted a year.”
“You over him?”
I laugh softly. “Yes. I was the one who ended things.”
“Why?”
“It just ran its course, I guess. He started drinking more and I found an open browser on my computer where he’d been looking at porn. I just felt it deep inside, you know? That he wasn’t the one.”
“Yeah.”
“What about you? How many times have you been in love?”
More than thirty seconds pass before he finally answers. “Never. I told you I’m fucked up.”
“Why is that fucked up?”
He sighs softly. “I guess it’s more the reason that’s fucked up. I’m so hung up on what happened to my parents. And to me, when they got divorced, that I’m never letting it happen to me.”
My heart cracks as I think about how lonely that must be.
“Is it that you don’t trust anyone or that you don’t trust yourself?” I ask.
“Both.”
There are so many things I want to say, but I stop myself. He didn’t choose to feel this way; no one wants to be different from everyone around them. Isolated. Just like I didn’t choose anxiety.
“I get what it’s like to have something happen that changes you,” I say.
He slides a hand down and cups my ass, a smile in his voice as he asks, “You like being spanked?”
Arousal floods me hard. My head is saying no, but every other body part is saying hell yes, please now .
“I don’t...um, no one’s ever done it.”
I feel his hum in my chest. “Who are these shitty guys you’ve been with, Trin? They don’t eat your pussy ’til you see stars, they don’t spank you when you’ve been a bad girl and they don’t fuck you well.”
Rest in Peace, ovaries.
“You don’t do any of those things, either,” I remind him. “Unfortunately.”
He groans and slides a hand down the back of my leggings, squeezing my bare ass. I gasp.
“It’s about time we change some of that,” he says in my ear, his voice gruff. “I can’t give you everything, but...we can play. Is that enough?”
My pulse pounds and my head swims as I manage a strangled, “Yes.”