26
Kevin
Iwake to the cringe-worthy sounds of Blue Jays singing. If you can call it that. I look over and see Skye curled up with the fleece blanket around her. I scoot toward her and wrap her in my arms, her body melting into me. She looks angelic—nothing like the girl I pretty much kidnapped not so long ago. She's gained some weight, and her hips have filled out.
Her hips.
I rub my hand down her side and over the gentle curves, basking in my desire for her. I've stopped feeling guilty about wanting her—though it’s more like needing her. I don't have the energy to fight any longer. If she wants me, I'll stop pretending I don't want her right back. She’s no longer a young girl I have to protect. She’s a woman I have to take care of and protect—whether that's from me or anyone else. It warped into making her feel good and helping her let go of her trauma while unintentionally doing the same for myself. She makes me confront the worst parts of me, and I love her for that.
Love her?
She buries her face in the pillow, soon letting out soft snores.
Do I love her?
* * *
“Doyou want to do something with me?” I ask Skye as she starts tugging on her jeans.
“No?” She smirks at me.
“Back in basic training, I had this Russian friend. He loved to do a quick polar dip in cold bodies of water. Always touted so many benefits.”
Skye glances from me to the door. “I am not hopping into that river. You're out of your damn mind.”
“Then at least come with me. Please?”
She wraps herself in a throw blanket and follows me outside with a sigh. The crisp spring air causes goosebumps to rise on my skin. I look at the dark water and question my sanity . . . again. The surface ripples with small whitecaps of rough water.
“It’s cold out,” Skye says with a shiver.
“Don’t worry. I put extra logs on the fire, so it’ll be extra toasty when we go back inside.”
I tug off my shirt as we approach the dock. Skye cocks her head at me as I strip off my jeans and take my boxers down with them.
“You aren’t . . .”
“Oh, I am,” I say with a smile. “Come in with me.”
“Hard pass.”
“Don’t you want to experience new things?”
“I’ve experienced plenty of things in my life,” she says with an annoyed shake of her head.
“Please?” I beg.
She groans and drops the blanket. She lifts her shirt, exposing excited nipples. Her arms cross over her chest instinctively. The low waistband of her jeans draws my interest as she reaches one hand down to undo them.
“This is fucking stupid,” she says with a sigh. She starts to slip her pants down but stops. “Won’t people see us?”
“There’s no one around for miles.”
Skye points to the small cottages and cabins dotting the shore on the other side of the river. “Them?”
“No one is up here this early in the year.”
Skye leans over, drops her jeans, and places them on top of the blanket. She slips off the warm wool socks. “I’m not taking off my underwear.”
“Come over here.”
Skye walks over to me, her footfalls cushioned by the soft spring earth. Goosebumps dot her skin. I pull her into me and embrace her with my warmth. She mumbles under her breath, and while I can’t make out what she says, I know it’s something snarky. I run my hand along the bumpy, cold flesh of her arm and grab her hand. I leap into the river and drag her in with me. She screams as we hit the water.
It feels warm as it wraps around us. That’s the weirdest part about doing a cold-water swim; it ends up feeling warmer than you expect, as if it’s too cold for your body to register. I pop up from beneath the water and brush the wet hair from my face.
Skye comes to the surface, choking out water through blue-tinged lips—clearly very pissed off. “Holy witch tits, it's so cold.”
I grab her and pull her into me. “Stop flailing for a moment and just feel.”
She stops kicking her legs and becomes quiet. “Yup . . . I feel . . . really fucking cold.” Her teeth chatter.
I close my eyes for a moment and soak in the tangible reminder that I’m here right now with Skye.
“Can we please get out now?”
“Babe, getting out is the worst part,” I say with a playful grin.
“Fuck you,” she calls back to me as she swims toward the shore, more of her body being exposed as she leaves the water.
I follow her. She clumsily steps toward the blanket and grabs it, wrapping it around her.
“This . . . is horrend . . . ous.” Her words come out between full-body shivers. She grabs her clothes and runs inside.
This is when you feel cold. The water drips from you, and your skin absorbs the chill in the air, screaming for warmth. I grab my clothes and head toward the cabin. I pick up another few pieces of wood before walking into the cabin, willing my cock to look like it wasn’t in forty-degree water by the time I get inside.
I find Skye curled up in front of the fireplace. She’s so close, I almost fear her blanket will catch on fire.
“Back away from the fire with that blanket,” I say as I put down the wood and cover my crotch with my jeans.
Instead of backing away from the fire, she tosses the blanket away, draws her knees toward her chest, and stares into the flames. Water drips from her and sinks into the wooden floors. I sit beside her, watching the flames dance along the walls. I cross my legs and put my jeans over me.
“You okay?” I ask. Orange flickers in her dark pupils.
She nods.
We sit in silence until her skin dries and the water droplets turn into drops of sweat dripping down the curve of her spine. They crawl across her skin, hovering above the waistband of her white panties. I trace the path of moisture with a gentle touch, making her shiver. We have all the heat right now—except for the heat I want most.
Skye flashes her eyes up at me and smiles. I stand and sit on the couch, feeling the cool rush of air behind me. I’m uncomfortably hard, and it’s tenting my jeans on my lap. Skye notices and bites her lip, playfully rising to her knees and meeting me at the old sofa. She lays her head on my lap as she looks up at me.