Chapter Five
Kelly
“I win!”
I cackle loudly, falling back on the pillows spread on the floor as I kick my feet in excitement. I don’t need Walker to confirm it when it’s written all over his face. “I win, again.”
“By cheating, clearly.”
“You can’t cheat in Battleship. It’s practically impossible to cheat.”
“Then how do you keep winning?”
“There’s a strategy to it,” I say with a grin, leaning up to peck his lips. “Maybe if you’re good to me, I could teach you.”
“I am good to you. I’ve been nothing but good to you these past couple of days,” he says, grabbing the pillow I’m seated on and pulling me to his side. I take the moment to peek at his board, smiling anew when it only confirms what I already know.
I won the game.
“People say that the beauty of Battleship, when played honestly, is the fact that you can’t really tell the moves your opponent is making,” I say, chuckling when he pushes the board away and pulls me onto his lap. “I disagree.”
“You do?”
“Yes, there’s always a way to read your opponent to tell what they’re thinking.”
“Is that so?” he drawls. “And what am I thinking right now?”
“Hmm.” I take his face into my hands and lean in close to stare into those golden eyes that I’ve found myself falling for these past couple of days we’ve been locked in here together. I stroke his jaw, and for a moment, I lose track of my thoughts.
He’s given me his body and let me glimpse pieces of what goes on inside his head, but he keeps the deeper parts of himself locked away. So far, I haven’t been able to reach those parts of him.
Do I want to?
I just started having sex. Shouldn’t I want to go out and explore, learn and unlearn new things about my body? Why does the thought of tethering myself to this man sound so appealing? So perfect.
No, I don’t want to go out there and meet other people. The thought of another man touching me the way Walker has leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
I want him. Only him.
But I can’t have him, can I? Not when he’s set on guarding his heart while my own flutters in his presence.
“So, what am I thinking?”
I blink at the question before I remember what it is we were talking about. “You’re thinking of taking a break from the game and making us hot chocolate, then cuddling by the fire.”
“Close.”
I lean closer and drop my forehead against his, locking my eyes with his as if trying to read the depths of his soul. “And after the hot chocolate, you’re probably thinking we’ll roll around the carpet naked and make love for the freaking twentieth time today. It’s got to be a record.”
“An exaggeration too, but I have to say, you’re pretty good at reading my mind.”
“See, I told you.”
“So you did,” he rasps, circling my waist as he brushes his lips against mine then pulling back before I can push for more. “Hot chocolate first.” There’s laughter in his eyes as he gently sits me back on my pillow then gets up to fix us drinks.
I watch him walk away and feel a stir in my sex as I take in his tall, muscular form.
Perhaps it was an exaggeration when I mentioned we’d made love twenty times in one day but not by much.
We’ve had quite a difficult time keeping our hands off each other and have had sex on nearly every surface of this cabin.
Walker radioed the ranger station the morning after he found me, letting them know I was safe, but stranded at the cabin until the storm passes.
Hearing the ranger answer him with familiarity over the crackling radio had eased some of my lingering doubts about who he really was.
For three days, the world outside the cabin has all but disappeared, and it’s just been us two, finding excuses to touch each other at any opportunity.
A part of me is terrified of what will happen when the storm passes.
I’ll have to leave this cabin to continue with my assignment and Walker will go back to his forestry work.
Will we ever see each other again? It’s unlikely the magazine will send me out here again for another feature, not when there’s a whole world to explore.
I turn to the fire and fold my knees under me, then drop my chin over them.
I wish the storm would last forever.
“Looks like the storm might stop tomorrow or the day after,” Walker says, snapping me back into the present as he settles back with two mugs of hot chocolate and a plate of cheese and crackers.
“Thank you,” I say, taking the warm mug when he hands it to me. “You said the storm will end tomorrow? How do you know?”
“The same way you can read minds. I can read the weather,” he teases, taking a sip. “And I checked the forecast before I came out here. They said the storm could last several days. The tourists were warned too.”
“Yeah, I guess we were.” I chuckle without mirth then lean my head against his shoulder as we stare at the fire. “Do you have a big family?”
“No.”
When he doesn’t offer more, I bite down a sigh and decide not to push.
He gets broody and cagey whenever I ask about his life outside of this cabin.
“I have a huge family back in Indiana. I’m the middle child in a family of seven kids which means I grew up in a very chaotic household.
My parents are both chill, I guess, and very much in love.
Thirty years into their marriage.” I rest my head against his shoulder. “Are your parents still together?”
“I don’t know.”
Oh, there’s more there, but I push down the urge to ask. The fire crackles, filling the silence between us, and when it stretches too long, I decide to fill it myself.
“My parents come from big families too. I have nineteen cousins—no, wait, twenty-one. I always forget about the twins. They were born a few weeks ago,” I explain with a laugh.
“You should see us during the holidays when everyone comes together. It’s loud and chaotic.
Last Thanksgiving, the cops got called twice because two of my cousins got into a fight over some stupid bet. ”
I stare into the fire as I wait for him to give me something. Anything about his life, but he stays silent. He doesn’t share any part of himself I haven’t already learned from him in this cabin, and my heart breaks a bit.
I’m expecting too much from a man who’s made no promises, but I can’t seem to help myself.
Please.
“I was in foster care,” he says so quietly that I barely catch it over the crackling fire.
I turn to look at him and, from the tight clench of his jaw and the vein pulsing at his temple, I can tell this is all I am going to get. His next words confirm it.
“Tell me more about your family,” he says. “Your cousins.”
“They’re loud and annoying,” I say, setting my untouched hot chocolate aside before climbing back onto his lap. I take his mug from his hand and place it beside mine. “And there are way too many of them. It would take us an entire year to cover all the chaos they’ve brought to our small town.”
“What do you want to do instead?”
I want to wipe away the sad look in your eyes and make you happy . “I want to get to the fun section of your thoughts,” I say instead, stroking his jaw tenderly. “Maybe we should move on to a different activity before I start interrogating you again.”
Those golden eyes darken with lust. “Do you?”
“Uh-huh,” I whisper, leaning in to brush my lips over his before trailing kisses along his jaw and chin, then nipping softly at his bottom lip. My hands slide beneath his shirt, and I sigh as I touch that strong body, feeling the muscle move underneath my fingertips.
“Sounds like a plan,” he rasps, pulling my T-shirt over my head before tugging his own off. His mouth latches onto my nipple, drawing a gasp from me as my back arches.
But instead of rushing, his hands move slowly over my hips and thighs, kneading gently at the lingering soreness from the past few days.
I laugh breathlessly, threading my fingers through his hair. “Walker, I can barely walk. I’m sore everywhere.”
His lips curve against my skin. “I’ll be gentle.”
He presses another slow kiss to my breast before rubbing soothing circles over my thighs, easing some of the ache into warmth instead.
I whimper, rolling my hips against his erection as heat coils low in my stomach again. “Need you…inside of me.”
“Fuck, I want you so bad, angel,” he groans after releasing my nipple with a wet pop. He shoves down his sweatpants and pushes his thick shaft into me slowly, sending heat rushing through my body. God, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to size of him or how completely he fills me.
I grab his shoulders and tip back my head when his mouth moves to my neck, kissing and licking at my skin.
“I love smelling my soap on you,” he murmurs against my throat, gripping my thighs as I begin rocking my hips against his. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good. So wet and tight. Just like that.”
His hips move with mine in uneven thrusts, dragging pleasure through my body while I hold him close, fingers buried in his hair as we move together the way we have for the past few days.
My body knows him now. And my heart does too.
In our short time together, it’s memorized everything about him—the feel of his body against mine, the sounds he makes when he loses control, the way he looks at me like I’m something precious.
Every piece of him has carved itself into me so deeply it aches.
I love you, my heart wants to say. Please love me back.
But he can’t.
He won’t.
And somewhere deep down, I think I’ve known that all along.