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DAVIS
“You think that moose is judging us?” My head is still light from the way I just fucked Alana. Again. This time, under the lukewarm trickle of the cabin’s galvanized shower stall.
At the sound of my voice, her eyes shift away from the mirror where she’s now applying moisturizer to her cheeks. A snort bursts out of her nostrils when her gaze swings over to where I’m fastening a flimsy towel around my waist.
She moseys up beside me and, side by side, we take in the boreal forest design of the shower curtain. “I’m pretty sure you’re right.” She plants a hand on her hip and pensively twists her lips to the side. “I think the little beady-eyed squirrels arewayjudgy-er, though.”
I swipe at the water droplets slipping from my hair down my back as I observe the squirrels. “Shit, you’re right.”
There’s barely enough space for the two of us to move around in here without elbowing and bumping into each other. Yet somehow, we’re making it work.
Alana’s eyes connect with mine and she gives me a smile. A sweet, genuine, happy smile that pours straight from her soul and warms mine. And for a moment, it’s like the past four years never happened at all.
Like we never lost each other.
Like we never hurt each other.
Like that bulldozer calleddivorcenever stormed into our lives and knocked over our white picket fence.
She drapes an arm around my waist and presses up against my side, dotting a soft kiss to my wet shoulder. Then she turns toward the bathroom’s cobwebby little window. “What time is it anyway?”
“Time to show face back at the main house before Jimmy and Rainbow come down here, searching for signs of life.”
After our late breakfast with our gracious hosts, we came back here to the hunter’s cabin. Alana said she wanted to freshen up before heading into town for that bonfire that’s happening this evening. I figured it would probably be a good idea to brush my hair and put on a clean shirt, too. But that was two hours ago.
From the minute we set foot back into our little sex shack, we’ve been all over each other. What can I say? All I want is to soak up each moment with Alana because I know that our time here is running short. Before I know it, I’ll have to give her up and go back to life the way it was. I’m trying my best to overlook the deep anxiety I feel about that.
I’d never admit it out loud but, I’m enjoying this little hideaway. It’s been good for my damn soul. And it’s not just the sex. It’s the connection with Alana. The intimacy.
For most of last night, I was busy pounding my ex-wife into the raggedy mattress like a caveman. But then she nestled peacefully in my arms and fell asleep. I curled my body around her in the tiny bed and slept like a log, too. This has been good for me. On so many levels.
Although Alana’s body satisfies me in a way that even a five-course meal never could, my stomach is now a grumbling pit of hunger. It’s time to get our shit together and head into town to that chakra party.
The sun is high and bright above the green treetops beyond the window. The sky is clear, no sign of the clouds that brought the rainstorms of the past few days. We can’t spend the entire day cooped up in this cabin, though.
I reach forward and absentmindedly twirl a strand of her pretty hair around my finger. “We should head to the main cabin. Maybe there’s an update about the road conditions.”
“You’re right,” Alana says with a sigh. “And we need to check in with Cash and Meghan again. Make sure they’re holding up okay.”
“Yeah. They didn’t sound so great this morning when I spoke to them.”
Today is the day before the wedding. When I called my brother earlier, a good number of the wedding guests were still struggling to find their way to Crescent Harbor. He and Meghan are seriously considering postponing the whole event and rescheduling to some other time. I could tell from the sound of his voice that the decision was killing him but he was holding out hope. He told me that they were all going to head down and decorate the venue just in case.
Blowing a raspberry in frustration, Alana turns and gingerly limps back to the wooden vanity where her makeup bag sits open.
Yeah, she’s limping. Christ—I wrecked her. And I’m not even a little bit sorry.
The thought makes my cock jump.
Instead of busying myself with getting dressed, I lurk just past her shoulder and watch her reflection in the mirror as she fusses with her hair and makeup.
She’s effortlessly breathtaking. Tight faded jeans encase her long, toned legs and that ass I grabbed last night as she rode my cock. Her loose cut-off top gives a glimpse of her creamy skin, hinting at her soft midriff.
She draws a hairbrush through her blonde locks before raking mascara over her long eyelashes. Everything about her movements is graceful and feminine.
Alana has always been convinced that she needs to get all fancy just to leave the house. But it blows me away how beautiful she is. In any state.
Each year that passes only seems to refine her beauty, to increase her sex appeal. I can see it so blindingly clear now that I no longer have the lens of resentment fogging my perception of her.
