It only takes a few minutes to approach the cabin, and when I walk directly to her bedroom window she whispers, “Of course.”
Lifting her inside, the warmth from the room hits me as I put her on her feet and quickly join her before she locks me out.
The side light by her bed might be dim, but it still burns my eyes. It allows me the chance to study her for the first time tonight.
She looks beautiful and freshly fucked. Her cheeks are red from the cold, her eyes bright from the release, but they’re circled with a darkness I don’t like.
She hasn’t been sleeping well.
Some sick and perverted part of me wonders if it’s because I haven’t been here.
It’s stupid, because until the other night, she had no clue I’d ever been in her room.
“How did you know where I was?” she demands, opening a door and disappearing inside what I assume is a bathroom.
“I know everything,” I confess, dropping into the chair at the end of her bed and getting myself comfortable while she cleans up.
The second she appears in the doorway, still bare from the waist down, she pauses and glares pure death at me.
“What the hell are you doing? You need to leave.”
I don’t respond, I just let my eyes track her as she crosses the room and drags a clean pair of pyjama bottoms from her suitcase, which predictably hasn’t been unpacked despite the fact that she’s been here two days already.
My fists curl at her lack of care and organisation, but I force it aside.
“You’re cold. Get in bed.”
“I’ll still be cold in there.” You could join me.
She doesn’t say those final words, but I can read them in her eyes.
After a long stand-off where neither of us says anything, she must decide that she’s cold enough to comply and crawls into bed, flicking the light off and plunging us into darkness.
“How many nights have you watched me sleep?” she asks, her voice rough.
“More than I should,” I confess.