Chapter 13 Koda
THIRTEEN
KODA
I elbow the bedroom door open and shift the box in my arm.
“Where should I put this one, baby?”
Charlotte glances over her shoulder.
“Bedroom is fine. Top shelf.” Then she grins. “That is, if you can reach.”
I grunt as I shake my head. I set the box down and turn in time to catch her sneaking another stack of books onto the nightstand, right next to my dog-eared paperback and old fight medals.
The room looks different now. Her boots lined up next to mine, a photo of her mom on the dresser, her lotions taking over the shelf in the bathroom. It feels like her. It feels like us.
“All right,” Charlotte says when she’s done. “I think that’s the last of it.”
“You sure there’s no more mugs hiding in the back of my truck?” I say, dusting off my hands.
“Yes, I’m sure.” Charlotte pokes me in the side. “And stop complaining. It could be worse. I could’ve brought a rescue dog and six plants.”
“No dogs. And if I see a cactus in my shower, I’m tossing it off the porch.”
She grins and slips past me. “Don’t tempt me.”
I follow her into the hall, watching as she shivers and rubs her arms.
“You cold?”
She nods. “Your cabin’s always freezing in the morning.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s because you’re always walking around barefoot.”
I head for the stove, crouch down, and add kindling on top of the fading embers. Charlotte hovers nearby, rubbing her arms, her hair falling over her face. I strike a match and watch the flames catch, heat beginning to leak into the room. I close the door and lean against the wall.
Her stuff is everywhere now—blankets, mugs, her scent in the air.
Four weeks, and somehow she fits here better than I do.
I like the sound of her in the kitchen, the mess she makes of the couch cushions, the way she laughs at my bad jokes and always wants music playing when she cooks. The cabin is different. Warmer. Fuller.
Charlotte grabs my old Worthington Sports t-shirt from the dresser and slips it on. It hangs nearly to her knees, swallowing her up. I watch her pad to the living room, settling in my chair with her mug clutched in both hands, legs tucked up.
“We’re running low on firewood,” I say, pulling on my boots. “I need to chop more.”
She settles deeper into the chair, mug cradled in both hands. “Don’t work too hard out there.”
I glance back at her and chuckle. “I’ll try to restrain myself.”
Her smile turns lazy, knowing. “I doubt that very much.”
I step outside, the cold biting my skin.
The sun is bright, sky cloudless. I grab the axe from the porch and head for the chopping block, feeling my muscles loosen with every swing.
Sweat beads down my back, the rhythm of chopping grounding me.
I stack the split logs, building the pile for the wood stove.
I think about the last four weeks. Waking up to coffee for two. Her feet sneaking over to my side of the bed. Her laughter in the mornings, her head on my chest at night. The place feels alive for the first time in years.
The door creaks and Charlotte steps onto the porch, framed in sunlight. She has her coffee, wearing nothing but my black t-shirt—bare legs, hair tousled, eyes on me like she’s already planning trouble.
“Don’t stop on my account,” she calls, voice warm. “I’m enjoying the show.”
I wipe sweat from my brow and let the axe rest on my shoulder, breathing hard.
“I thought you said you were cold.”
She lounges against the railing, mug nestled in her palms. “I was. But then I realized that the view’s much better out here.”
I shake my head, stack another log, but my attention is fixed on her.
She stretches, arms overhead, shirt riding up even higher on her thighs. She’s not wearing a damn thing underneath. She wants me to notice.
I bury the axe in the block and cross the yard, boots crunching over the dirt. The morning sun is bright, but all the heat is in my chest.
“You’re asking for trouble,” I say, voice low.
She bites her lip, innocent and wicked at once. “Who, me?”
I walk right up to her, crowding her back against the wall of the cabin. My hands find her waist, thumbs stroking bare skin.
“Yeah, you. You move in, take over my bed, walk around in my clothes, and now you’re out here flashing me in the yard. You think I’m just going to let that slide?”
She grins, presses even closer. “Guess that depends. You going to do something about it?”
My hand drifts up her thigh. I breathe her in, sunlight and coffee and that lazy smile that undoes me every time.
“I might,” I say, my voice rough, “All I can think about is all the places on my property I haven’t fucked you yet.”
Her breath catches, pupils blown wide. “Like where?”
I grip her thigh higher. “Right here. Against this wall. With the whole forest watching.”
She digs her nails into my shoulders, pulling me close. “What are you waiting for?”
That’s all the invitation I need.
I crash my mouth to hers, swallowing her gasp as I press her harder against the rough wood. My hand slides under the shirt, confirming what I already know. She’s completely bare underneath, wet and ready for me.
“Fuck, baby.” I growl against her mouth. “Were you planning this?”
Charlotte nips at my bottom lip. “Maybe.”
I fumble with my pants, shoving them down just enough to free myself. Then I hoist her up and push into her in one smooth thrust, burying myself to the hilt.
The tight heat of her pulls a groan from deep in my chest.
Four weeks, and it still feels like the first time. Like coming home after being lost for years.
“Koda,” she gasps, head falling back against the wall as I begin to move. “Fuck, yes.”
I set a relentless pace, driving into her with enough force to make the cabin wall creak. Her nails rake down my back, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I bury my face in her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin mixed with my soap, my sweat, my sheets.
“Mine,” I growl against her throat, punctuating the word with a particularly deep thrust that makes her cry out. “All fucking mine.”
“Yours,” she agrees breathlessly. “Only yours.”
The morning sun beats down on us, turning her skin golden where it peeks out from beneath my shirt. I slide my hand between our bodies, finding that spot that makes her tremble, circling it with my thumb as I continue to thrust into her.
“Come for me, Charlotte.” I watch her face, mesmerized by the way pleasure transforms her features. “Let me feel you.”
She shatters around me, inner walls clenching tight as she cries out my name. The sound echoes through the trees, raw and unrestrained. It pushes me over the edge, my release hitting me like a freight train as I bury myself deep inside her one final time.
For a long moment, we stay locked together, breathless and trembling. Charlotte’s forehead rests against mine, her eyes closed as she comes down from the high. I hold her weight easily, reluctant to let her go just yet.
“Well.” Her voice is deliciously rough. “Good morning to you, too.”
I laugh, the sound rumbling between our pressed bodies. “Morning.”
“I think we just scared away all the wildlife within a five-mile radius.”
“Worth it.” I press a kiss to her temple, then slowly lower her feet to the ground, keeping a steadying arm around her waist.
She giggles, the sound light and unrestrained, a blush creeping across her cheeks. “You know what? I kind of liked that. Being out here like that.”
I raise an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across my face. “Did you now?”
“Maybe.” She bites her lip, eyes sparkling with mischief.
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, my voice dropping to a teasing rumble. “Well, look at you. My little exhibitionist.”
Her blush deepens, but she doesn’t look away. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it just as much.”
“Never said I didn’t.” I capture her mouth in a quick, possessive kiss. “Just filing that information away for later.”
She tugs her shirt back down, though it’s wrinkled beyond repair, stained with sweat and evidence of our activities. Not that I’m complaining.
“Come on,” I say, taking her hand. “Let’s get something to eat. All that wood chopping worked up an appetite.”
“Among other things,” she murmurs with a smirk, following me toward the cabin door.
Inside, the kitchen is warm from the fire I started earlier. I head straight for the fridge while Charlotte settles onto one of the bar stools, watching me with those blue eyes that still make my chest tight.
“Eggs and bacon?” I pull out the carton and the package of bacon.
“Perfect.” She rests her chin in her hands, elbows on the counter.
I get to work, cracking eggs into a bowl, laying strips of bacon in the cast iron skillet. The familiar motions are soothing, domestic in a way I never thought I’d experience again. The bacon starts to sizzle, filling the kitchen with its rich aroma.
Charlotte shifts on her stool, and when I glance over, she’s pressing a hand to her stomach, her face slightly pale.
“You okay, baby?”
She nods quickly, maybe too quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... maybe go easy on the bacon? The smell is a little strong this morning.”
I frown, studying her more carefully. There’s a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead, and she’s gripping the edge of the counter like she needs the support.
“Charlotte—”
“I’m fine,” she insists, waving me off with a weak smile. “Probably just hungry. I didn’t eat much yesterday.”
I’m not convinced, but I don’t push. Instead, I crack the window to let some fresh air in and turn down the heat under the bacon. She takes a deep breath, some of the color returning to her cheeks.
“Better?” I ask.
“Much. Thank you.” She reaches for her water glass, taking a long sip.
I finish cooking, plating the eggs and keeping the bacon to a minimum. When I slide her plate across the counter, she stares at it for a moment before picking up her fork.
“You sure you’re okay?” I settle onto the stool beside her, my own plate in front of me.
“I’m sure.” She takes a small bite of eggs, chewing slowly. “Just one of those things, you know? Probably didn’t sleep well.”