115. Courtney
Chapter 115
Courtney
A hinge squeaks, and cool air sweeps across my face.
I burrow farther into Sterling’s side.
Sterling’s side.
I crack my eyes open.
My cheek is plastered to bare skin. Chest hair tickling my nose. My head rising and falling with each slow breath Sterling takes.
It’s ungodly comfortable.
Like so comfortable it shouldn’t be legal.
I breathe him in.
How is it possible to feel so… at ease with a man I barely know?
Because even though I’ve been in Colorado for a couple weeks, I still don’t really know Sterling Black.
I look at our hands, fingers laced together on top of his body.
I gently flex my fingers.
His hand is so much larger than mine. His fingers are rough, filled with strength, yet capable of soft touch.
I flex my fingers again.
No matter where this goes, his kindness, his touch… it’s healing something inside me .
Even with those first few miserable days, he’s more than made up for it.
He explained. And he apologized.
I press my teeth into my lip.
I suppose I owe him an apology, too, for trying to blackmail him that first day.
That same squeak from earlier sounds and that same gust of outside air blows over us, followed by the thud of footsteps across the floor.
Someone must’ve gone to the outhouse.
My eyes widen.
Someone is up.
It’s still dark out, but it’s getting lighter.
They might’ve seen us.
I listen closely, straining my ears.
The creak of a bed frame signals the person going back to sleep, but I can’t tell which bunk it is. It doesn’t sound like the one closest to us, which would hopefully mean it’s not Fisher who’s up. But I can’t be certain.
“Sterling,” I whisper.
He doesn’t respond.
I wiggle my fingers free of his grip and tap my fingertip against his chest. “Sterling.”
The arm around my back tightens, and I hear a small rumble in his chest. But that’s it.
I need him to wake up, but his sleepiness is so cute I find myself smiling.
“Sterling.” I flatten my hand on his chest and give him a little shake.
The hand on my back slides up over my shoulder.
I think he’s going to hug me to him, but then his hand is reaching around and clamping down over my mouth.
I grin under his palm.
This man is such a goober.
Then I remember what I learned yesterday.
I shift back, just enough to make room for the hand that’s trapped between us. Then I dart it up, wiggling my fingers in his armpit.
Sterling’s eyes snap open .
The palm over my mouth stifles my laugh.
The arm around my back squeezes me to him, but my fingers are already at their target. Still wiggling.
In a blink, Sterling twists toward me, rolling me onto my back until he’s looming over me.
With his hand off my mouth, I work to keep my breathing quiet.
We’re right on the edge of the bunk. And if I wasn’t so turned on—looking up at his mostly naked body, feeling his hardness against my thigh—I’d be worried about falling off the bed.
“Morning,” I whisper.
His eyes drop to my mouth. And stay there. “Morning, Honey.”
Honey. Gah.
I shift, that hardness against my leg feeling harder with each moment.
Then I remember why I woke him up.
I use my head and brows to gesture toward the rest of the room. “Someone was up.”
Sterling lifts his head and looks around.
“Shit,” he whispers, then drops his full weight onto me.
All the air gets pushed from my lungs.
“Five more minutes.” His lips graze my ear on each word.
I shove at his heavy body.
He rolls his hips.
I squeeze my thighs together.
He nuzzles his face into my neck.
“Can’t. Breathe,” I grunt.
He lifts off me, and I fill my lungs.
Smirking, he presses a kiss to the tip of my nose, and I swoon.
Then he shuffles over and swings down off the side of the bunk.
Gaping, I roll onto my side as he lowers himself to the ground.
The biceps. The shoulders. The pecs.
Those dips above his hips where his stomach muscles flex.
I roll back onto my back.
I’m not prepared to look at all of that this early in the morning.
The soft rustle of clothing signals that Sterling is getting dressed. A bittersweet necessity .
There’s a metallic zip, then I feel something depress the bedding beside me.
Rolling my head to the side, I find myself looking into Sterling’s eyes as he leans against the bed.
And he looks ready to film a fucking movie.
A Western, probably. Not some corporate thing. Nevertheless, it’s not fair.
I must be making some sort of expression because his cheek twitches. “What?”
“You’re too handsome,” I tell him, keeping my voice just as quiet.
He stares at me for a long second before shaking his head. But I catch the way his mouth tries to smile.
“You’re tired” is his response as he reaches out to run a finger down my—probably frizzy—braid. “I’m going outside. When I come back, I’ll walk you over to the outhouse if you have to go.”
The suggestion is enough to have my bladder nodding.
I start to pull down the blanket. “I can go with you now so you don’t have to make the trip twice.”
He shakes his head as he smirks. “Not going to the outhouse. Just gotta pee.”
“But…” I scrunch my nose when I realize what he means. “That’s not fair.”
“It’s not. But it sure is handy.” He holds up two fingers. “Two minutes.” Then he walks away.
To go pee in the woods.
Or into the river.
Or literally wherever the hell he wants because he has a penis.
I’ve never been more jealous of someone’s genitalia in my life. Because although the outhouse isn’t as disgusting as I was expecting, it’s still an outhouse. And that toilet seat is going to feel like ice against my butt cheeks.
Silently cursing Sterling for his urinating abilities, I spend the next two minutes struggling to climb down from my bunk.
My feet hit the floor just as the door opens again, and Sterling waits as I pull on one of my sweatshirts and boots .
I keep my eyes forward, not looking back at the other bunks, as we step out into the crisp morning together.
Even though the darkness is lifting, Sterling holds a flashlight beam ahead of us, and when we reach the outhouse, he hangs the light inside for me.
“I’ll wait right here,” he tells me.
When I open the door a few minutes later, he’s exactly where he said he’d be.
The hand sanitizer is drying on my hands, but I still make him go over to the water spigot so I can wash them properly. They have a special type of camping soap that’s okay to use for washing hands and dishes in the open, and I feel less gross after using it. But I can’t stop my yawn as we approach the cabin.
Sterling places his hand on the small of my back. “Go back to sleep for an hour. You can head back to the Lodge after breakfast.”
I tip my head back to look at him. “You’re staying up?”
He nods. “I’ll get the fire going. Prep for the day.”
“Do you want help?” I try to keep the wince out of my voice.
Please say no.
“I got it.” He strokes his hand up my spine. “Go back to sleep.”
“If you insist.”
He dips his chin, then drops his hand away from me.
Sighing at the loss of contact, I open the cabin door and step inside.
I toe my boots off and head back toward our bunk.
“Morning.”
My head jerks over at the whispered greeting. I hadn’t noticed the man standing a few feet away.
I lift a hand to Fisher. “Morning. Good night.”
He grins. “Going back to bed?”
I nod.
“I’ll do the same if the boss doesn’t make me help him.” Fisher uses his arm to cover his yawn.
I hold up crossed fingers. “Good luck.”
I’m standing at the end of my bunk when the door closes, marking Fisher’s departure .
The guests are still all asleep, but Fisher saw me up. He knows Sterling is outside. And I know Sterling isn’t coming back in. So…
I grab the pillow off the top bunk, then crawl into the lower bed.
Climbing up top just sounds like too much work.
I burrow under the bedding until I’m nearly hidden, then I pull the blankets up to my nose.
And with memories of Sterling’s warmth wrapped around me, I slip back into sleep.