When the lighter flame catches, I glance toward her. “Casting a spell?”
“Ha. Ha. Ha.” Her retort is sarcastic and breathy. “We don’t need a fire. I thought we were leaving when the storm passed.”
“Princess, you looking outside? That storm is huge. We’ll be here for the night.”
“The night?”She drags in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I can’t be here for the night with you. I don’t even know you.”
Rain drums a heavy rhythm on the tin roof. Usually, I love that sound. Today, it’s testing my patience, though I’d guess it has a lot to do with the sharp-tongued princess perched in the corner with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
I don’t do well with talkers. Don’t do well with people, period, and the way she rolls her eyes like a punctuation every time she speaks is driving me to the edge. An edge her beauty alone can’t resolve.
“So, let’s get to know each other then.” It’s not first on my list of things to do, but I figure if she’s at ease, the evening will go much better. I mean, I’m not into epic, deep dives about our darkest secrets, but skating around on the surface might be entertaining for a while. “What really happened with the wedding dress?”
“I’m starving. Do you have any food in your bag?”
Damn it. I should’ve thought about how she’d be hungry. “You want me to cook a meal? I keep the place stocked. Got venison, duck, some bear—”
“Granola bars?”
I push my backpack toward her. “Plenty in there. If you change your mind about the protein, though, let me know.”
She nods and pulls a bar from my bag and inhales it before unwrapping another. “The dress,” she sighs, “the whole wedding was a mistake. I saved myself. That’s all.”
I bite back the sarcastic comments I’m thinking and try to havethis empathy thingeveryone’s always talking about. “Why’d you need to save yourself from your own wedding?”
She narrows her brows and shakes her head. “You really want to know, because you don’t seem like the curious type.”
“I’m asking. Tell me or don’t.” Fuck! I need to work on this.
She studies me for a second like she’s checking for cracks, then exhales as though whatever happened has been sitting heavy on her chest. “I found pictures of a naked girl on my ex’s phone. They were of this woman he was working with. Apparently, saving your virginity for marriage wasn’t slutty enough for him.”
Fuck. Did she just say virginity? This is why you don’t ask questions. People start talking. They don’t know the line.
I drag in a deep breath as my mind reels over ways to manage this strange piece of truth I know about her now. I could ignore the fact that she even said it, which seems like the best option right off the top of my head. Or I could ask questions, be curious, and have an actual conversation.
“You okay?” she presses, chewing her bottom lip as though maybe she’s uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean to overshare.”
“No, it’s fine.” I brush my hand back through my hair. “You didn’t overshare. It’s a thing. You’re… that’s a lot to gothrough. For the record, I don’t think holding your virginity for the right person is a bad thing. I’m sure whoever you end up with will appreciate the gift.”
Who the fuck am I?
“Yeah, well… I’m done saving it.” She bites into another bar. “All I want now is fun. I want to throw caution to the wind and go crazy, fuck the pain away. People say it works.”
My heart hammers against my chest as I listen to her words. She’s not fucking the pain away with me, so I need to get that shit out of my head, but still, what the hell do I say?
“I’m sure another man would make you feel better for a while, then you’ll hate yourself for giving pieces of you away. Pieces you can’t get back.” I poke at the log crackling in the fire.
“I don’t think so.” She rubs her hand down over her shoulder like she’s trying to ease something off her skin. “I’m ready to feel something. I’m ready to throw caution to the wind for once and be wild. I thought about this long and hard last night when I was trapped with Sheila. I’m tired of holding back and being careful. I want to make a choice that’smine.Not because it’s smart or safe, but because it feelsfree. I want to feel wanted, desired.”
She shrugs and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know… I’m not looking for forever. I just want to feel something.” Her eyes roll to the side, and she leans back. “I probably sound like an idiot, and you’re thinking‘please stop talking,’but you can’t tell me sexual healing isn’t a thing.”
She’s definitely saying something.
I stare toward her as though the words I need will materialize in time, but they don’t. Instead, my cock thumps at the edge of my zipper, reminding me that I’m, in fact, a man who’s available for sexual healing.
Christ. I need to get out of this conversation.
“I mean, this is what people do. They get hurt and they find someone else to fill the cracks, right?” she continues, and I’m pretty sure I have to respond now.
