Chapter 24
CHAPTER 24
“ D on’t stop,” I practically beg, rocking my hips back and grinding against his jeans, where he’s hardened underneath me.
He carefully grabs a handful of my hair close to my scalp, yanks my head back, and kisses his way down my throat, making me moan louder than I ever have.
“Gabe…” I moan breathlessly.
Suddenly, my tent lurches, and I’m jolted awake from the best sleep I’ve had all week. It’s like someone dumped ice water on a blazing campfire—turns out I was having yet another ridiculously hot tree-planting dream about Gabe.
“What the—” I mutter, sliding my sleep mask halfway up my forehead, blinking at the thin dawn light filtering through the canvas.
“Good morning, Sunshine!” Gabe’s voice, all singsong-y and maddeningly cheerful, booms from outside, way too loud for this ungodly hour.
I fumble for my phone to check the time. It’s five a.m. “It’s my day off! For the love of God, Gabe, why are you waking me up so early?”
The tent flaps rustle as he tugs them again, and I catch a glimpse of his boots through the small sliver of mesh. “Good fishing starts early,” he says, like this is the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve got ten minutes, or I’m leaving without you,” he teases.
I push the sleep mask off and stare blurry-eyed at the morning glow. The thought of missing out on this cabin trip—and missing time with Gabe—scrapes enough motivation out of me to kick off my sleeping bag.
“This was not part of the deal!” I grumble, half groaning as I yank off my hoodie.
“Better hurry!” he tosses back, entirely too pleased with himself.
“I hate you,” I mutter, but it lacks real venom.
I’m in a scramble, yanking off my sweatpants and flinging them aside as I rummage for my clothes. A few “city” outfits get stuffed into my duffel, along with a clean sweatshirt.
Then I pause, fingers hovering over my last few pairs of underwear and bra: there’s the comfy, boring, beige ones… or a sexier but still comfortable silk pair with a black lace fringe and matching bra that I brought for town days. It’s also my last bra that isn’t a dirty or sweaty sports bra. The beige pair of undies say “practical,” while the black lace says I might want to feel sexy today, for absolutely no reason at all. After a second of internal debate, I roll my eyes at myself, grab the black lace, and hurry to pull it on. Next goes my black leggings and a cropped tank. I spot Gabe’s hoodie—the one he lent me when I was freezing under the cache—and decide it’s fair game. It’s too soft and smells too much like him for me to resist.
I step out into the cold morning air, cursing his name all the way to the shitter, and conduct a record-breaking toothbrushing at the outdoor sink. By the time I sprint back, I can practically hear him counting down the seconds in his head.
I run back to my tent to grab my bags, then run back towards him, ready to fling myself into his truck just to shut him up—but I stop short. Gabe is leaning against the driver’s door, arms folded, a smug grin splitting his face. The rising sun catches in his blond curls, and for a split second, I forget I’m irritated. My gaze drifts to his mouth, and suddenly I’m remembering that kiss from yesterday, how his lips felt on mine—slow and intent—and how I fell asleep replaying it in my head all night, in dreams I will never speak out loud.
He, on the other hand, stands there like nothing happened, calm and collected.
“Nice sweater,” he says teasing. “I had one just like that… but for some reason, mine’s gone missing.” His eyes flick up to meet mine, a knowing look in them. “And for the record, you don’t hate me.”
My cheeks burn instantly, heat creeping up my face before I can even think of a comeback.
His grin gets bigger. “Get in. It’s a long drive, and I’m not about to waste a good fishing day.”
I roll my eyes, already tossing my bag into the truck. “Fine. But if I’m cranky, it’s because I’m starving. And that’s on you.”
“Alright, hangrypants.”
“What happened to Sunshine?” I ask playfully.
“She’s probably still passed out in the tent, having sweet dreams.”
My cheeks go red-hot at the thought that he might’ve heard me moaning his name during that feverish sex dream, after all.
He shuts the door behind me, still chuckling under his breath, then slides into the driver’s seat and starts the truck. The engine rumbles to life, and just like that, we’re pulling out of camp and into dangerous territory.