He shrugged, his eyes flickering to mine. “I like to think of it that way.”
A slow burning thrill gradually warmed my belly as my overactive imagination ran away, stripped naked doing wild cartwheels, and made salacious plans. This place meant privacy. Time we could spend together, just the two of us, sharing hopes and dreams. Maybe this place would be where I admitted how much I felt for him, how I loved him. Maybe we’d use it to make plans for our future beyond the next thirteen months.
He pulled the truck off the gravel road and took a path I would never have noticed. After another few minutes the truck’s headlights illuminated a roughhewn, stone staircase leading to a dark wooden cabin.
I didn’t wait for Duane to open my door. Instead, I jumped out of the truck as soon as he stopped, but before he’d engaged the emergency brake. He left the headlights on, and they were the only source of light.
Duane called after me, “Slow down, Jess. Those steps aren’t as solid as they look.”
I forced myself to pick my way more carefully, which allowed Duane to catch up and place a protective hand at my back. When we reached the door, I tried it and found it locked.
“I have keys,” he said gruffly, unlocking the door, and stopping me from bolting forward by gripping my upper arm. He waited until I was looking up at him before pressing the keys into my palm. “Here, these are for you.”
“For me?” I grinned. I couldn’t help it.
He laughed lightly and shook his head, walking past me into the cabin and disappearing into inky darkness. I hesitated at the door, listened to the sound of his boots scuffing on the floor, then the strike of a match. Pale illumination filled the small space as he lit a candle. I stepped in and closed the door behind me as Duane walked around the rectangular space, lighting wax candles as he went.
It was small. Really small. Maybe two hundred square feet. The walls were finished—which was surprising—but were painted plain white and held no photos or paintings. A stone wood-burning fireplace took up most of one wall, a small table with two chairs took up another, and a queen-sized bed ran along the third.
“Are you cold?”
“No,” I said on a sigh, imaging us spending countless days and nights here, enjoying each other’s company, sharing more of ourselves.
Finally, I lifted my eyes and met Duane’s schooled expression.
He was studying me, my reaction to this place. Despite the careful coolness of his features, I could read his thoughts as clearly as though he’d spoken. He wanted to know if this place would do. If I would consent to him taking liberties with my body in this cozy cabin.
He was so silly.
So I said, “Duane, you are so silly.”
“I’m silly?” He lifted an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his broad chest.
“Yes. See now, this place is great. But I’d just like to point out that if you’ve been waiting for a room and a bed for us to start doing mattress cartwheels, then I think you’re being silly. Do you think I need candles and romance?” I waved a hand around the cabin. The place was small, but it was undeniably romantic. Add a fire in the fireplace, a bottle of wine, and naked cartwheels on the bed—it was basically a rustic den of seduction.
Regardless, I continued my tirade. “Baby, I do not need those things. You need to realize, I don’t want to be put on a pedestal. I don’t want you to keep a respectful distance. I just need you. I like you wild and I love you reckless. Outside on a picnic blanket, inside the cab of your Road Runner, on the bed in this here cabin—where we come together makes no difference to me. It’s you I want.”
Each word was true. I didn’t want or need romantic gestures or pretty things. I just wanted him. I was in love with him and nothing else mattered to me, not the where and not the when.
As I spoke I saw the corner of his mouth lift of its own accord, his gaze grow warmer. When I finished, he studied me for a long moment, his scorching stare skating up and down my body in a protracted perusal.
Good Lord, I was getting hot. Fleetingly I hoped he would take my words to heart and just take me now, fast and hard against the wall. The thought made my knees weak.
But then he crossed to where I stood with slow measured steps. And he didn’t stop coming until he’d backed me up against the door. He placed one hand on the frame behind me and the other possessively on my hip.
His eyes glittered and smoldered. He gazed specifically at my mouth, as he said in a rumbly whisper, “Jessica, I’ve been thinking about making love to you for a real long time. And I won’t settle for our first encounter being rushed—on a blanket outside, in a car, before dinner in my bedroom at home. I plan on taking my time with you...”