26. New Kink Unlocked
New Kink Unlocked
LILLIAN
I’ve never slept well next to anyone. But sleeping next to Matt, especially after two days of thinking we were done, has given me the most restful night of sleep in years.
He doesn’t snore, doesn’t toss and turn, and he’s the perfect temperature and size to cuddle up against when a chill cuts through the air in the night.
He smells good in the morning, too. A perfect mixture of his musk and a little bit of sweat. Pheromones that go right to my core.
I cuddle up next to him, pressing a kiss to his neck. Then his jaw.
He stirs when I reach his cheek and is fully awake by the time my mouth is on his.
“Mm,” he hums against my mouth, a limp hand wrapping around my waist. “What time is it?”
“Don’t know,” I tell him, nudging my nose against his. If I were to guess from the light sneaking in past the dark curtains, it’s probably earlier than I think. Still haven’t gotten a grip of how time works out here.
“Hold me. I’m cold.”
Matt obliges, wrapping his big arms around me and kissing my hairline. “You are cold,” he whispers, touching various parts of my body to check my temperature. “Why don’t you use the fireplace?” Matt asks.
I glance over at the metal fireplace with the stove pipe. “I don’t know. I don’t want to do it wrong.”
“Aw. That’s adorable.”
I shove his chest. “Shut up.”
“I mean it!”
We tussle and fall into another languid series of kisses. I thought when he came over last night, I’d keep my distance. I’d be more rational about this. We could see each other again, but I wouldn’t let the head-over-heels feeling set in again.
Joke’s on me.
“Let me build you a fire,” Matt says.
“I don’t have any firewood.”
He rolls out of bed, and gestures out the window. “This is Alaska. There’s firewood everywhere.”
I move onto his side of the bed and soak up all the leftover warmth. “Well, I don’t have an axe.”
“You rented this place from Ian, right? No way this guy doesn’t have an axe around here somewhere.” Matt patrols the floor for his boots and socks. No pants. No shirt. Just underwear and boots.
New kink unlocked.
He heads for the back door, bare chest and all.
“You’re not going out there like that,” I say in disbelief.
Matt clutches a hand to his chest, covering up his nipple as if he’s been scandalized. “Are you trying to ruin my reputation?”
I laugh into his pillow. It smells like him. “No, I mean—yeah? Do people just go out to chop wood without clothes on here?”
“Baby, this isn’t LA. You’re in Naknek. It’s our right to be naked out here.”
“Won’t you be cold?”
Matt shakes his head, pulling the door open. “I’m Alaskan,” he replies before disappearing out the door. As if that’s an appropriate answer.
Which I suppose it is.
I pull myself out of bed and hurriedly make a cup of tea before rushing back to the window. I need to see this with my own eyes.
To my surprise, he has indeed located an axe. He wields it like a rogue going into a medieval battle, with ease and so much confidence I’m a little freaked out he’s going to hurt himself.
With tea steaming into my face, I watch. I’m more excited than I ever thought a situation like this would make me.
Matt throws a look to the window, eyes locking on me, and he smiles like he’s a fucking model and I’ve got a camera trained on him. He knows how good-looking he is, and now he’s showing off for me.
I love it.
He positions the axe over his shoulder and lets it fall with an ease that makes my thighs clench. He slices the log into two and quickly sets one up to cut it into fourths.
I never thought I wanted a “manly” man. Then again, in cities, there seems to be way more cultural divide, especially when you’re dating on the apps.
Algorithms show you what they want you to see, and I haven’t matched with many who work with their hands, muscles coming from labor rather than vanity.
And yes, my ex, Cal, was a surgeon, so technically he worked with his hands.
Refined movements based on years and years of education.
But there’s a posturing that comes with that.
Matt’s work is inherent to who he is. Not something he puts on and takes off, depending on how he wants people to see him.
He finishes his work quickly and comes inside with a pile of logs, not a goosebump on him. I watch him build a fire in the stove, crouched over, his tight butt staring me in the face.
“You ogling me?” he asks, as he strikes a match.
The match is a symbol of my insides right now. “Yeah. I’m objectifying you.”
He lights the fire, stoking it with delicate, directed breaths before it’s fully ignited. Once that’s done, he gets to his feet and dusts off his hands. “You have my permission to objectify me any day.”
We crawl into bed again and cuddle, the room filling with an embracing warmth. Matt keeps his hands under my sweater, against my belly. So simple and yet, so intimate.
I don’t want to hurt him.
The thought appears out of the blue. And it goes deeper than not wanting to break his heart. I don’t want to ruin his life.
“I’ll figure something else out,” I murmur. “For my recommendations.”
Matt is quiet at first. “You do what you think is best. That’s . . . that’s your job.”
“But if it hurts you and your job, I don’t want to do it,” I say, lifting my hand to touch the side of his face as I gaze up at him.
Matt touches my wrist and moves his mouth to my palm, kissing it tenderly. “Won’t hurt me.”
“Yes, it will,” I say. “I mean, that’s what you said and what everyone thinks, isn’t it?”
With a sigh, Matt furrows his brow. “It’s complicated. What they think.”
“I wish they’d let me talk to them rather than trying to bite my head off any time I’m in the room.
That way, I can know how to direct my research in a way that will help them not feel alienated.
” I roll my eyes up in thought. “Maybe you could talk to them. They trust you, right? I could give you my questions or thoughts and?—”
Matt pulls me closer. “I have a better idea.”
“Oh, you do?”
He kisses the side of my head. “I do. But first . . .” Matt yanks me on top of him.
“No, tell me your idea!” I exclaim, trying to get away from him, but once he drags his lips along my neck, I’m done for.
Matt’s idea, it turns out, is a barbecue. On paper, it sounds like a nothing idea, but after he explains it to me, I let him take the lead.
Apparently, Matt is known for his barbecues. Or at least he has been in the past. This year, he hasn’t scheduled one, so what better time than when the girl he’s dating needs to probe his friends for information?
He doesn’t see it quite like that, though.
He’s excited. We go to the supermarket together to get supplies, ignoring prolonged gazes from passing patrons.
I help him clean and set up the backyard for guests.
It’s all so domestic, and I hate how good it feels.
Well, I don’t hate it. It just scares me.
Because I don’t belong here. Naknek has made that clear.
Hell, Matt even made me realize my lack of belonging when we had our fight.
There’s a piece of me that wants to belong. So bad.
The gathering is small but mighty, about six fishermen, not including Matt.
Tuma and Marina are both friendly, familiar faces.
Ian too, but I’m not sure where he stands with me.
One of Marina’s crew also came along, a guy named Rio.
Baldy, whose actual name is Paul. And an older gentleman named Kirk.
Baldy, Kirk, Marina, and Rio all eye me warily as Matt works the grill.
I try to stay out of their way at first, letting them mill, seethe, and enjoy themselves before I say anything that might raise the tension.
I’m getting that out-of-place feeling, my hands tucked awkwardly in the pockets of my jacket, but I’m here to learn and listen.
There’s a hum of conversation, laughter blending with the crackle of the fire Ian tends in the middle of the yard.
“Uh, hi.”
I turn to find Jesse. “Jesse, hi.”
“Brought some beer,” he says to me as if I’m hosting the party. He lifts a six-pack.
I didn’t expect him to come, let alone bring beer. “Thanks so much. Matt will appreciate that.”
Jesse lifts his eyes across the yard to Matt and Tuma at the grill. There’s a hesitance in his gaze and in the way he holds his body. From what Matt told me, they didn’t leave things on the best note the other night. They haven’t talked since.
“I’ll take this,” I tell him as I accept the six-pack. “You go say hi. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”
“Yeah, okay,” Jesse mutters, like a little boy who has been told by the teacher to apologize to a kid he pushed down on the playground.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I tell him, which is the truth. I knew an invite had been extended to him, but Matt wasn’t sure he’d come.
Jesse eyes me warily. “Sure thing.”
I head over to the cooler near the back door to put the beer inside, which brings me closer to a conversation between Kirk and Marina.
“You’re too old for that shit, Kirk,” Marina scolds him.
“Don’t fucking remind me. I haven’t gone out for King Crab in over a decade.”
“It’s too dangerous,” she says.
“Bah, there’s fucking nothing out there near the islands anyway. Everywhere else, they’ve ended seasons early or quit them altogether.”
Marina hums. “Can you fucking imagine? And we think we have it bad.”
I slowly put the last bottle in the cooler and close the lid. Of course, coho isn’t the only season touched by environmental shifts and overfishing. I don’t know how I didn’t see that before. “That sounds frustrating,” I say as I inch toward them.
Both Kirk and Marina look at me. Kirk’s expression is affronted while Marina’s is more surprised.
“Frustrating. Yeah. Understatement,” Kirk says before swigging his beer. He looks away as if I might disappear if he doesn’t acknowledge my presence.
“Being pushed out of your livelihood. That doesn’t seem fair,” I go on, emboldened that I haven’t been told to fuck off.
Marina nods while picking the corner of the label on her IPA. “Yeah, it’s not fair.”