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Not that I’d be saving CF any trouble. But he could fast talk his way out of situations better than I could.
I could practically hear my best friend now.
Talking about yourself in the third person, son? Slippery slope there.
Something else I could worry about later.
I flicked off the screen and hustled out the back door before she could come out and find me.
I’d have to face the music before long, but maybe we could have dinner and some pleasant conversation first.
Tomorrow would come soon enough.
Ten
Vee
Vee,
I have a very nice king-sized bed we can make super comfortable for you. I’m not quite sure on the bear though. Could we turn him away from us? I’m not sure I could…perform under those circumstances without a few practice rounds. At least I’d hope you’d feel secure enough to try it without Sir Mix A Lot. Besides, I wouldn’t want to compromise your bear. I plan on—
The note stopped. Just stopped. Just like my heart as I stared back and forth between the unfinished note I’d just received and the spotless mirror.
I was standing in Murphy Masterson’s hidden away bathroom—or water closet as he’d called it, which I found old-fashioned and sweet—in his hidden away cabin.
Did I somehow have a fetish for the sort of man who isolated himself in the forest? Did this mean I was doomed to end up on Forensic Files?
Maybe I should be looking for a plunger or long-handled brush I could use as a weapon if necessary, instead of trying to figure out if coming back out braless was sending too strong a message.
Please fuck me—if you aren’t a serial killer.
Though that really wasn’t the kind of question it was easy to segue into before fucking. And I’d never be able to live with myself if I found out after.
But it’d be easier to die with a few orgasms under my belt. It had been so long I expected cobwebs to grow over my girly rhododendron any day now.
It was always the quiet ones and Murphy definitely qualified. But I was reasonably sure he wasn’t homicidal. The only reason my brain had gone there was because I liked two guys who lived tucked away from society. They weren’t the only people who preferred such a lifestyle, but it did seem odd that I’d happened to start talking to a guy with the same setup as Murphy.
Either I had a dangerous fixation on rustic types without even realizing it or something was…suspicious.
A cabin.
Murphy.
Could it be?
Could it not be?
When I’d first entered the bathroom, I’d been dazed and happy that I was actually in private with Murphy. In his inner sanctum so to speak. Then I’d realized I was far too revved up to just work on a database with him, and if it wasn’t right to screw someone before a first date, it definitely wasn’t right to screw them before dinner.
Maybe? I didn’t have a handbook for this sort of thing. Nor did I know when I’d gone from liking Murphy from afar to wanting to get naked with him, but I supposed once you started embracing your needs, they stood up and shouted for relief.
Or maybe that was the battery pack on my vibrator.
I glanced at my phone again. When my email had chimed, I’d finished up and washed my hands, then discovered Cabin Fortress had abruptly ended his message.
As if he’d been in a hurry.
Like he might be if he’d been interrupted by a dinner guest.
