22. Nat
TWENTY-TWO
Nat
Today was the second time I’d cleaned mud out of crevices it didn’t belong.
The second time I’d seen Jack covered in the stuff and had been somehow turned on by the image.
It wasn’t my fault. That kiss the other day still had me squirming. It had been good. Mind-alteringly good.
But that didn’t matter because I was the villain in Jack’s story, and he’d treated me that way since I’d arrived. It’d been because of this that he’d brought things out in me I never expected to see. Things I still judged myself over.
I thought back to that night with Gia. I’d been on the rebound from a breakup.
She’d obviously been with someone else. We’d hit it off over another camper’s bad version of a cosmo, which neither of us had enjoyed but had drunk anyway.
They’d made far too much, and I’d procured the pitcher and my silicone wine glass—because classy—and Gia and I had shared the drink back and forth, getting drunk as we sat on a dock on Lake Starlight.
I remembered our fingers brushing and the way I’d looked down to see the little stars painted on her blue nails.
But there was no romanticizing it beyond that. I’d barely known her.
I’d walked her back to her cabin and kissed her. No, she’d kissed me. That I remembered vividly because I’d been questioning what was about to happen and whether I was ready after the breakup I’d gone through earlier that month.
It was hard not to overanalyze everything now.
The way she’d opened up to me over mixed drinks.
She’d mentioned wanting the true camp experience, which must have been why she’d slept in her own cabin that week.
The make-out was good. She’d giggled even.
But out of nowhere, Gia had pulled away from me as though she’d made a huge mistake.
Her reaction had left me wondering if I’d done something wrong.
Now, I knew what that look was. She must have realized she’d cheated on Jack with a coworker of his.
The next day, she’d been gone.
She became the reason I’d decided against casual hookups. I’d leaned into making out with her because I’d been down on myself, but being ghosted by the hot girl at camp hadn’t made me feel any better.
Before, I hadn’t been opposed to one-night stands or intense make-outs with people I didn’t know.
It was hard to find a release when you were traveling constantly, so I’d occasionally ended up in the arms of someone new, knowing it wouldn’t go anywhere.
There was nothing wrong with that. But something had felt off with her. Now I knew why.
And other than Jack, at least two other people knew what had happened that night. It felt awful imagining what Jamie and Autumn must think of me.
They’d never outwardly treated me like shit, but were they just keeping it to themselves and secretly judging me? And which was worse? They’d obviously been above the former, but I had no idea about the latter.
I’d endured a lot the past six weeks, but the worst part was this cocktail of confusing emotions. First, I liked him, then I hated him, then I hate-liked him. Now I definitely hated him.
“Knock, knock.”
Speak of the devil. And on another note, I really hated when people said knock, knock.
I sighed angrily, and that feeling didn’t change just because he looked contrite.
The look quickly went away as Jack entered the craft cabin. “You have a minute?”
“I’m busy.” I turned off the sink and shoved the paintbrushes I’d been cleaning into a mason jar to be used for the next class. I probably should have manhandled them a little less. They’d done nothing to deserve that.
“I can wait.” The way he said it was patient and surprisingly not annoyed with my angry blowoff… It had me questioning things. Like maybe I should hear him out.
But I didn’t want to. So there.
I took my time putting the paintbrushes away and cleaning paint stations, but he was still there. Sitting on the couch at the back, knotting and unknotting a macrame string he must have found on the floor or something. It had me wondering what else he could do with rope.
No. None of that.
I finished throwing away the last station’s dirty paper towels when he must have gotten tired of waiting.
“So, we’re just not gonna talk about it then?”
I threw a towel in the trash, but it took its time on the way down. When I gazed at him, he had an expression I couldn’t read. Was he annoyed or was he determined? Confused?
“What is there to say, Jack?”
“I’d start with, I’m sorry.”
I lifted my chin and glared at him, ripping the mason jar of paintbrushes off the desk at the front and making a beeline for the storage closet. He followed me. Of course.
“If you think I’m going to grovel when I had no idea she was your—”
Jack crowded me, and the already small closet shrank down to nothing. My eyes went wide, and he took a step toward the side, presumably so he wasn’t blocking me in.
“This is a sacred space. You’re not a crafter. You can’t be in here.” My voice sounded small as I whispered for no reason.
“The storage closet?” His cocky grin came out. I both hated and loved that grin. “We’re going to get nowhere if you overreact to everything I say without letting me finish.”
The absolute gall of this man. Was steam coming out of my ears? I wouldn’t be surprised. “You might as well tell me to calm down.”
He shook his head. “I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid.”
Was he being self-deprecating now? I wasn’t falling for it. “Those both mean the same thing.”
He took a step toward me. “No. They don’t.”
And just like in most of our interactions, I didn’t back down. No, I stepped closer. “You’re right about being an idiot.”
Jack’s eyes flared. “Do you ever let other people say what they need to say?”
“Do you ever stop pissing me off?” I struggled to think with his breath hot on my face. Had this room gone up twenty degrees? Was this a sauna now? That would surely destroy the crafting supplies.
He was amping up. “That sounds like a you problem.”
“You’re the only problem I have.” I poked him in the chest. “And you’re—”
Jack grabbed my hand and pulled me to him so we were chest to chest. He wrapped his hand loosely around my throat, using his thumb to tip my chin up, and before I could analyze how dangerous it was for the two of us to be this close, his mouth crashed onto mine.
Jack did a lot of things to clear my brain of thoughts. He angered me. He frustrated me. But when he kissed me, every logical move I could make went out of my head.
This kiss was different from our mud-slicked make-out. That was indulgent and satisfying. This was frantic. It was fireworks going off where they didn’t belong. Zipping and blowing up, incendiary and alarming.
He backed me against a wall of shelves, and the sound of a clay pot breaking as it hit the ground should have pulled me away from him, but I didn’t care. I was too busy wrapping my arms around his neck as he ran his hands up my sides.
When we came apart, we were both panting messes. Strands of my hair had fallen out of my braid, dangling in my eyes, and Jack’s lips looked swollen and redder than normal. I fanned my face and instantly regretted it.
“You hot and bothered for me, princess?”
My gaze followed the back of his hand down my shoulder to the tips of my fingers. Before that, I didn’t know goose bumps could hurt.
“You are infuriating,” I breathed, barely holding it together as he placed his hands on my hips, gripping them tightly and turning me around so I was facing the shelves.
He pressed his thumbs into the space between my jean shorts and my tank top, and I nearly melted.
When he ran a hand just below my belly button, my legs threatened to shake.
“Are you done?” he asked, his voice deep as he waited for my confirming nod. “That’s right. Now unzip your pants like a good girl.”
Oh god, did I like that or hate it? And why were my hands moving of their own volition?
“See? You can listen.” His pleased tone almost had me crawling up the wall. The man had tormented me for weeks, and I was giving him everything he wanted.
“I can’t stand you.”
His lips dropped to just below my ear. “Tell me that in a minute when you can no longer stand.”
God, the man was cocky. And that word brought our proximity to the forefront of my mind. With the way we were flush together, I could feel everything. He was affected by me, too.
I gripped the shelves and thanked whoever I needed to thank for their sturdiness before realizing he had probably built them. I’d always liked how handy he was. Jack knew how to build things. He used his hands and strength for all kinds of purposes, and now he was going to use them on me.
Jack’s hands went below my beltline. His fingertips played with the top of my underwear, and I held my breath as he waited for my approval.
Would I allow him to push this further? Because this would mean something.
We’d had our mud make-out, and I’d barely reconstituted myself.
Now, there was this undoing kiss and his exploring hands.
This was more intimate. Something I wouldn’t be able to call just a kiss afterward.
I wouldn’t be able to blow it off or forget it. I’d bet neither would he.
Lust overpowered me, and I gave his hand the subtlest push, enough to tell him that I was in this if he was. Just like with the competition, our goals were aligned.
Jack kissed the curve of my neck, and his fingers made a teasing pass over my clit to my center.
My knees nearly gave way, but he clutched me tightly with his other arm, holding me steady against him as his fingers toyed with me.
An embarrassing whimper left my lips as he delved deeper between my thighs.
“You get this wet for the man you hate?”
“Shut up, Jack.” It was barely a demand. He had all the control, and I just… let him have his way because this felt too good. This man I’d been actively fighting had broken down my walls.