TWENTY-ONE
Cassie
Present
Tonight was our last night at the cabin, and I couldn’t deny I was more than ready to go home.
Tanner’s friends were…a lot.
They were polite and friendly, and I really liked Robin. She was a great time and kept us girls highly entertained, but as an introvert, this weekend was a bit much for me.
Most everyone was feeling a little drunk and had scampered off to bed not long ago, but I was restless and couldn’t get my brain to shut off. My book wasn’t holding my attention, and I couldn’t bring myself to write anything at the moment. Even though I told myself a weekend getaway in the mountains was the perfect opportunity for me to write, I just couldn’t get my mind into it.
Deciding to go relax in the hot tub on the large deck of the main room, I slip into my swimsuit. I bought this high-waisted one that had a separate top that flowed down around it, and it was dark with what looked like stars on it. It was cute, and I felt pretty in it, but being around everyone else, this was the first time I’d put it on all weekend.
I snag the robe from the back of my bathroom door and secure it around my waist, tiptoeing down the hallway. I pause briefly in front of Lincoln’s door. Why did I want to see if he wanted to come with me?
I shake my head at myself. That was a bad idea. I didn’t know if I was ready for…that again.
The living room is nearly silent, but there’s a faint glow from a deck light outside, and as I step onto it, a head in the already-running hot tub turns to face me.
Lincoln.
Of course.
I turn to head back inside, but he calls out my name, and I hesitate.
“Sunshine.” He tries again, and I ignore the way his nickname for me makes my flesh break out in goose bumps.
Turning, I take a few tentative steps in his direction. A cool breeze from the mountain blows over the deck, making me shiver, and I take in the man in front of me. Of course, he’s shirtless, and the hot water is sliding over his muscled form, the steam of the hot tub rising all around him.
I can only see his shoulders, and yet, it’s affecting me in a way that it shouldn’t.
“I didn’t mean to bother you,” I say in an attempt to save myself from how awkward I feel.
I shouldn’t feel that way. This is the man who’s held my heart for the last seven months. This is the man that I’ve opened myself up to in a way that I never have before, with anyone.
He’s seen more of me than anyone.
“You could never bother me,” he replies, settling a hand over the edge and beckoning me closer. Pushing myself forward, my feet carry me toward the hot tub, and for a moment, I want to tuck tail and run.
But then I ask myself why? Why am I scared of him? Why am I running from him when he’s the one who messed up our relationship in the first place?
Feeling a—likely very brief—bit of confidence, I untie my robe and settle it on one of the deck chairs. I ignore his outstretched hand, feeling as if I should assert my independence and prove I don’t need him.
It’s probably a stupid thought, and it may pass, but I do it anyway, climbing the little wooden steps and stepping one foot at a time into the hot water.
I get instant goose bumps on my arms as my legs heat, and I step until I’m in the chair opposite him, placing my back to the house and staring out at the open mountains around us.
Mick really picked a fantastic place for us to take this trip.
“Ready to go home?” Lincoln’s voice is smooth and deep, barely carrying through the steam that rises between us. I can still see him perfectly fine, but the steam gives me a little more room to relax.
An illusion of privacy.
“I am.” Though sitting in this hot tub, I wish I would have done it more. This was what I wanted all weekend—to relax and enjoy the fresh mountain air. To get away and have a break from the grind of being a waitress while hoping I can become an author and also pretending I wasn’t infatuated with the man sitting across from me.
It was a draining way to live.
I tilt my head back, aware that his eyes are on me and unsure of what I want to do about it. When we were in my apartment, just us two, his stare made me blush, but I always liked it. Even if I wouldn’t have admitted it.
He was the first person who showed interest in me that I wanted to show interest in me. That I wanted to get to know and possibly fall in love with and have that perfect fairy-tale life.
Ugh. Even thinking that I sound pathetic. I don’t really believe life is perfect. I know it’s messy, and sometimes messy is even poetic in its own way, but sometimes I just wish things were easy.
“What are your plans for this week?” he asks in a way that says he’s merely curious, not trying to seek out whether or not he could have a chance to see me.
It gives me a bit of freedom when I answer him. “I plan to try not to stress about the submission letters. I’m going to look into self-publishing in case agents don’t work out for me and work.” I purse my lips and tilt my head back down, looking at him through the steam. He smiles at me, and I ignore the weird churning in my gut. “Not really anything exciting.” I clear my throat.
“I beg to differ. Sounds like you have a busy week ahead.”
I nod, uncommitted to the thought, then look back over at him. “How about you? How goes your rewrite?”
He looks away at the question, and I wonder why he failed in the first place. I briefly wonder if it was my fault. Was I too distracting for him? Was our relationship the reason he couldn’t finish the paper? Did he get behind?
“I’ve got some work.”
“Right.” I nod and think about him on the ice with all those little kids. I couldn’t deny that it was adorable to watch. “The lessons.”
He grins. “Yeah, we have scrimmages on Friday, and everyone’s excited about that.”
I raise a brow, letting my hand float in the water. “Those tiny little kids are going to play hockey?”
Lincoln chuckles. “Yup.”
“That’s safe?”
Nodding, he scoots to the left, getting closer so he can see me better. There’s still no other sound around us—the house quiet from the slumbering group we’re with, the mountain still this high up, with only the occasional animal sound drifting by.
“It’s completely safe,” he says, resting his arm on the back of the hot tub. I have no idea if that’s supposed to be an invitation or something else. “You don’t trust me?”
I swallow at the question, at how loaded it truly is. I glance away, and I’m shocked that he lets me have a minute to digest the question. He knows what a loaded one it was, how it’ll affect me after everything we’ve been through.
“It’s not simple, you know.”
I feel a finger rub against my shoulder and resist the urge that begs me to lean into that touch.
It’s one single touch of his finger, and my body tenses against the need to turn to him, to straddle his lap and grab his face in my hands, to have his lips on mine.
To have his lips on my body.
I glance over at him, and his eyes are already on mine. I see so much emotion in them that I can’t even name without making myself want to cry.
“I know.”
Lincoln scoots closer, and I find my body gravitating toward him. I’m not trying to do that, but I can’t help it. I crave being close to him and being held by him.
“I’m not trying to push, but I miss you, Sunshine.”
His voice nearly cracks at the admission, and I keep my eyes on his as I let myself turn to him.
Because I miss him too. I miss him so much that I feel like I have a phantom limb. I feel like I’m missing a part of myself. When I wake up in the morning, something always feels wrong, and I know it’s that I don’t have the ability to call him, to see him, to talk to him.
And I miss that.
So I let myself be free to cross the boundary that I’ve been trying not to cross. I let myself sit up and move toward him, to straddle his lap. I let myself revel in the feeling of his calloused fingertips rubbing along the bare skin of my sides as he holds me to him.
When I lean forward, I let myself go as I kiss the man who made me fall for him.
The bastard.
He takes my lips with his eagerness, his hands gripping me tighter and tighter, our chests coming together so there is no space between us.
I don’t know how far I want to take this. I don’t know if I’m ready to give in all the way, but for the moment, I relish his hands on my body and his tongue in my mouth.
“I missed the way you taste, Sunshine.” His voice is hoarse with need, and when I wiggle my lap, I can feel how aroused he already is.
I nod my head in agreement, my lips searching out his. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to give my brain time to decipher every little thing. To wonder what any of this means or how we’re going to deal with it, or what’s going to happen when I wake up in the morning.
But…for me, with kissing comes emotion, and I’m on the precipice of telling him every thought that’s running through my mind. Even the dangerous ones.
My hands grip his shoulders tightly, and as much as I want to give in, to let myself give over to what I know would feel good…I can’t.
I push up, and he lets my mouth go, keeping his hands on my waist, even lightly.
“You okay?” he asks, and I have to actively choose not to lean forward again and kiss him.
“Yeah, I just…” I can’t find the words. I think long and hard, wondering what to say to not make him feel bad, but to give myself the space I need to get where I want to be.
Because I do want him. I want to be with him.
He grabs one of my hands, kissing my fingertips as he examines them. “Come on, you’re all pruny.”
He stands, and I find my footing again, letting him get out ahead of me. He hands me my robe first, helping me into it before pulling it around me and tightening the sash.
I let him move around me, still lost in my own little world, as I watched him replace the cover of the hot tub before grabbing his own towel and drying off.
When he’s done, I’m still standing there, and he smiles at me before offering his hand and…I take it.
I hold on to him tightly, our fingers wrapped around each other. Silently, we creep back into the house, careful that our footsteps are silent so we don’t wake the others.
Anticipation consumes me as we near my door, and I ready words on the tip of my tongue. Which words, I don’t know.
But before I have to say anything, Lincoln turns to me, guiding me so my back hits the wall beside the door. His left arm raises above my head against the wall, and his left rubs a finger against my cheek. I feel my knees tremble at the look in his eye. The look that says he wants nothing more than to take me inside my room right now.
Instead, he wraps his strong fingers around the side of my neck, using his thumb to tilt my chin up, and then he bends down and takes my lips in a fierce kiss.
His tongue collides with mine, and I let myself be consumed yet again. My hands find their way to his bare shoulders, then up into his hair, and I arch into his kiss.
I’m pinned against the wall with his scent wrapped around me, and I want to take him into my room.
Right now.
But before I can find the words, he slows the kiss down, smiling gently at the eagerness I’m still showing with my own kisses.
My hands are still wrapped up in his hair, my body arched into his, and he places one final kiss on my lips.
Taking a step back, Lincoln opens the door to my room and gestures in. He looks pained at the motion, and I take those final steps across the threshold, wondering if this was the night everything would finally come together again.
Giddy anticipation consumes me for a moment before I turn back to him and see he’s still in the doorway. One hand is above him, and he leans against it, smiling at me with fondness.
“Can I see you this week?” he asks casually, remaining in that damn doorframe.
How about right now? I wish I could say. I also wish I could boldly strip off my robe and give him an inviting grin over my shoulder.
Maybe that confidence would come back. Some time.
“Okay,” I answer instead, but judging by the grin on his handsome face, you would have thought I’d sprawled out on the bed and asked him to have his way with me.
Instead, he nods, still grinning, and says, “Good night, Sunshine.”
“Good night, Muscles,” I reply, getting an even bigger grin before he disappears down the hallway.
I let the door close and walk over to the bed, still in my suit and robe, I collapse on top of the bed, staring at the starless ceiling.
It’s a long time before sleep finally pulls me under.