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“Basically.” He holds up another with a deep rose color. “And this one’s salmon.”
I crinkle my nose at that.
“I take it that’s a no to salmon?”
“I hate fish.”
“Man, you are in the wrong part of the world.”
“Where’d you get them, anyway?”
“Ethel. Remember her?”
“The woman who threatened to cut off her son’s hand? Vaguely.”
Jonah chuckles. “She gave them to me the last time I was at her village.” He pulls a dark brown strip from the first bag and tears off a chunk with his teeth, his jaw tensing in a sexy way as he chews. “Here, try it.” He holds it out for me.
I sniff. It has a smoky scent. “Is it any good?”
“Better than any store-bought stuff I’ve ever had. And it’s all we have to eat, so come on
.” He taps my lips. “Take a bite.”
I part my lips hesitantly, letting Jonah slide it in, his watchful gaze on my mouth as I tear off the tiniest piece between my front teeth. I let the intense flavor build on my tongue for a moment. “Not bad,” I admit as I chew and swallow, and then burrow into his side with a shudder, the air cool against my bare back.
“Give me a minute.” He presses a kiss against my forehead and then deftly maneuvers me off him.
I huddle under the covers and watch him grab another log from the small pile in the corner and carefully fit it into the woodstove, completely unabashed by his stark nudity. There’s certainly nothing left of that skinny teenaged boy from the picture. He’s all broad muscle and strength, perfectly proportioned, his thighs solid and thick. He makes Corey look like a gangly teen, and Corey’s only two years younger than him.
“Do you go to a gym around here?”
“Not in a while.”
“Then how—”
“Crazy good Norwegian genes. You should have seen the forearms on my grandfather. And I stay active.” The flames begin to grow, adding light to the dim cabin and reflecting off his eyes, making the blue in them dance.
“Active like the past hour active?” Because the way Jonah was moving over me, his muscles corded and straining, his skin slick, he definitely got a workout. My thighs tighten reflexively at the thought. I can still feel him inside me.
Sharp eyes flicker to me before shifting back to the fire. As usual, he’s figured out what I’m really asking and he’s deciding if he’ll make me drag it out of him or offer it up freely. “I was seeing a pilot from the coast guard for a while last year.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. She transferred back to the Lower Forty-eight.”
“Do you miss her?” What was she like? Did you spend a night on a dirty cabin floor by the fire with her, too? Would you still be with her if she hadn’t left?
He grabs the poker and jabs it into the stove. “I knew she wasn’t sticking around, so I never let myself get attached.”
I fidget with the slider on the sleeping bag’s unfastened zipper, trying to push aside the dour thought that springs up. Just like you won’t get attached to me because I’m leaving. Another selfish thought quickly follows, that admits I want Jonah to grow attached to me. To pine and hurt for me after I’m gone. To care that I’m not there.
Because then I won’t be alone in it.
But I’m guessing he’s too smart to let that happen. “Are you always so honest about everything?” I ask mildly. Brutally so, sometimes. Though, I think I’m beginning to admire that quality. It’s painfully refreshing.
I watch his face as it hardens with thought, his perfectly groomed jaw—the hairs mussed but still sexy—tensing. The mood in the cabin has suddenly shifted.
And then he sighs and, tossing the poker to the stone pad next to the stove, moves for the door, pushing it wide open. He simply stands there and watches the deluge of rain as it beats against the valley floor, his hands hooked on the wood above him, his naked silhouette framed by the doorway, cooler air flooding in.
