by Abby Jimenez
“Are you having fun?” I asked him, my chin in my hand.
“I am now,” he said, smiling at me, taking a bite of a turkey sandwich.
I wanted to kiss him. He looked extra rugged and handsome today. Heaven help us both if he did one more sexy man-thing around here. If he took off his shirt and started splitting logs, I’d probably drag him into a bush and let him have his way with me.
“How cold is that water?”
He shrugged. “Forty-five? Forty-six degrees?”
“Wow. That’s cold. But you’re dry in there?” I peered into the front of his camouflaged waders.
“Want to put a hand inside and check?” His eyes gleamed.
I dipped the tips of my fingers into the lake and flicked him with water. He laughed.
The sun warmed the planks of the dock. A speaker played Journey somewhere, and Tucker ran soaking wet back and forth along the shore with about half a dozen other dogs. Every pickup truck that had pulled onto the property this morning had had a hunting dog in the front seat.
“I have a confession to make,” I said, drumming my fingers on my cheek. “I was checking you out on the roof earlier. I didn’t really need to get anything out of the car three times.”
He grinned at me over his sandwich. “And I had to talk myself down from sneaking into your room last night. Only the thought of my mom catching us stopped me.”
“I locked my door last night. I figured I might have to protect you from yourself. I know how much of a risk taker you are.” I ticked off on my fingers. “Kissing me on a first date, volunteering to meet Kristen and Josh, making out with me in the hallway with your parents in the other room. You have no self-preservation instincts.”
“Not with you I don’t.”
I laughed.
He finished eating and I got up and grabbed him a fresh beer from the cooler. “Do you put in your parents’ dock every spring?” I asked, sitting back down in front of him.
He put his hand on my thigh and rubbed it absently with his thumb. “I try to. They’re getting older. They need the help.” He took a drink of his beer. “You know, I got my stage name putting in the dock.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. It was a few years ago. David’s oldest, Camille, was three and she couldn’t say Jason. She used to call me Jaxon. I was standing in the lake and she pointed at me and said, ‘Jaxon in the water.’ I liked it, so I used it.”
I gave him a smile. “I wondered about that. There wasn’t anything about it on your Wikipedia page. I was going to ask you.”
“Nobody knows that but my family. And you.”
I smiled, and we watched each other for a moment. “I wish I could kiss you,” I said quietly. “I’ve been wishing I could kiss you all day.”
A slow grin crept across his face. He put his beer down. “Well, I don’t see how I can refuse that request.”
He closed in on me, the lake swirling around him, and his fingers traveled past my jaw into my hair. He paused a moment, grinning an inch from my lips, and I inhaled him, his masculine smell, the hops on his breath, the faint intoxicating scent of his cologne mixed with his sweat. Then he closed his eyes and kissed me.
The hoots and whistles started almost immediately. Even the dogs howled.
“I’m gonna catch a ton of shit for this,” he breathed against my smiling mouth, his eyes closed.
“Well, I hope it was worth it.”
He answered by kissing me again, and even though the cheering got louder, I don’t think either of us really heard it.
When he broke away, he put his hands around my face and held my eyes with his. “The reports say there’s a good chance of seeing the northern lights tonight.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He glanced down at my lips. “It happens late, so we’ll probably need a tent, some sleeping bags. I’ll set us up.” He looked back up at me.
My heart pounded. I knew what he was saying to me.
We would be alone.
* * *
After dinner, as soon as Jason got out of the shower, I took a quick one of my own. He’d instructed me to dress warmly, so I put on almost everything I’d brought.
He double-checked my layers and mumbled with a smile about his California girl getting cold. Not satisfied, he made me put on his bulky Twins sweatshirt. We said our goodbyes, left Tucker with Patricia, and made our way down to the rack of canoes outside the garage.
He handed me some paddles to carry, then lifted a canoe seat-side down onto his shoulders and walked it to the water. He tossed a large green pack inside.
Watching him carry that canoe so effortlessly was very, very sexy.
“Where are we going?” I asked, as he lifted me in and handed me a life jacket.
“Somewhere special.” He pulled on his own life jacket and stepped right into the frigid water in his boots.
We slid across the lake as the sun started to set. The house fell away from view, and nothing but nature folded in on either side. The trees rose up like sentinels along the shoreline in an impenetrable wall of foliage. There wasn’t the faintest hint of anything man-made, not a house, not a dock or boat. Not a single piece of trash or even a plane crossing the sky. It was just stillness and the sound of the paddle churning the water. Occasionally he would point out a beaver dam or a bald eagle flying overhead. But besides that, we didn’t talk.
After a long ride he pulled up to some rocks on an island, banking the canoe sideways, expertly. He hoisted the pack, helped me out, and lifted the canoe from the water and set it on shore.
We hiked into the forest and up a rise, coming out into a rocky clearing overlooking the lake.
“We’re here,” he said, opening up the pack and pulling out a tent.
“This is where we’re sleeping?”
“Yup,” he said, laying down a tent pad. “This is the Boundary Waters. Two million acres if you combine the Canadian and American sides—some of the most pristine wilderness in the world.”
I smiled as I helped him set up the tent. We blew up some sleeping pads and camping pillows, zipped our sleeping bags together so we’d both fit, and tossed them inside. He set up two camp chairs and got a fire going, and we watched the flames jumping as the last of the light faded.
I could see every star in the sky. I hadn’t even known there were that many stars. This was nothing like any kind of camping I’d ever done. This was truly remote. No car sounds, no lights pricking in the distance. Nothing with you except what you carried in.
The wood shifted, sparks cracked and climbed, and I tucked my legs into my sweatshirt and hugged them. Jason sat with his elbows on his knees and his hands together, looking at the flames. He’d grown quiet. The air smelled like pine and smoke. It got colder and colder by the second. I looked out over the dark lake toward the distant sound of the lapping of the water on the shore. “I could paint this place. It’s so breathtaking,” I said.
“You should see it in the fall and winter.” He nestled another log on the fire and sat back down. “Which reminds me, I have some news I wanted to tell you.”
“Good news or bad?”
“Good. I mean, for my career it’s great. I haven’t told anyone yet, not even my parents. My label’s extended my tour. Two more months here and eight months overseas. It’s going to be worldwide.”
I beamed. “Jason, that’s amazing!” And then, almost as quickly as I said it, I realized what it actually meant. “Wait…you’ll be gone for over a year?”
He shrugged, looking at the fire. “Yeah. But I get a five-week break in between for the holidays. And the first leg of the tour is local.”
Local. He meant anywhere in America. Followed by what? Eight months where he’d be going to sleep when I was waking up? My heart sank, and I hid my frown behind my knees.
I’d been mentally prepared for four months. I figured if things were good between us when he left, we’d keep this going like we had when he was in Australia. I wasn’t looking forward to it, b
ut it was doable. At worst the time difference would be three hours. Maybe I’d drive to see him when he was playing in California and Vegas or fly out to be with him for a few days every once in a while.
But this? This was different. This was very different. This was over a year. And eight months of it would be a ten-plus-hour international flight somewhere if I wanted to see him. Massive time differences coupled with grueling schedules. I’d read his itinerary—it was ridiculous. And he’d already told me how different this tour would be from the last one in terms of his workload. That he was headlining and that meant he’d be responsible for all the promoting and that his sets and rehearsals would be longer. He’d be doing meet and greets with fans and he’d be on and off planes.
My parents had done the long-distance thing for years when my dad worked overseas. Kristen did it with the guy she dated before Josh. I knew exactly what this looked like. It was a slow death of a relationship. A separation that eroded everything, little by little, until it was stripped clean and you were practically strangers, lonely and attached to someone invisible.
I’d been lonely and attached to someone invisible for two years. I wouldn’t do it again. I couldn’t do it again.
Not that Jason wanted me to do it. We’d only known each other two and a half weeks, so I didn’t in any way expect him to ask me to come with him—and even if he did, I wouldn’t. It was too soon. I just didn’t move that fast. I’d been with Brandon almost three years before I moved in with him. I’d been with Brandon a year before I even went on vacation with him.
Now I wondered if Jason had been preparing me for this over the last week. Every time he’d talked about the insane amount of work he’d be doing, was he setting me up to let me down gently when the time came? He had to know as well as I did that this would end us.
We went on listening to the haunting sound of the loons in the darkness. He didn’t further the discussion and I was glad. I didn’t want to have a breakup conversation around this campfire, and judging by his silence, he didn’t seem to want to have one either. He probably wanted to enjoy this time. So did I.
When Brandon died, I’d wished for one more day. Just one more day to be with him and be happy. And Jason and I still had days. If all I was going to get was now and the next few weeks, I wanted to savor it, even if I knew it was going to end.
A shooting star tore across the sky and I looked back over at him to find him looking at me. He had his hands clasped, his cheek resting on his knuckles.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked.
There was a pause before he replied. “You. I seem to be doing that a lot lately.” Another long silence. “What was Brandon like?”
“Brandon?” Jason had never asked about him before. I let out a long breath and put my cheek to my knees. “He was steady. Strong. He was the kind of person you could depend on. Loyal.” I smiled a little. “He would always serve himself last. If we were at a barbecue or a party, he’d wait until everyone else served themselves before he’d make his own plate. He always wanted to make sure there was enough for everyone else before he ever thought about himself.” My face went soft at the memory. “He was good like that. He was a good person.”
Jason gazed back at me. “What happened to the drunk driver?”
I scoffed. “Not enough. She got two years. She gets out in a few months. Never even said she was sorry.”
We looked at each other in the light of the campfire.
“Jason, I never told you this. Maybe you kind of figured. But you’re the only person I’ve dated since him. Like, the only one. It’s a big deal to me. You are a big deal to me.”
He didn’t say anything. He studied my face, the fire casting a warm glow that flickered in his eyes. I knew he understood what I was telling him. I hadn’t been with anyone in two years. In any capacity.
“You’re a big deal to me too,” he said finally, holding my gaze.
We stared at each other and an eternity passed in the seconds.
“Cold?” he asked. “Want to get in the tent? I’ll leave the rainfly off so we can still see the sky.”
I nodded.
Jason poured water over the fire and we stepped inside the tent and took off our shoes. He hung a lamp from the top pole and zipped the door closed. Then we silently stripped off our heavy layers.
Jason stopped at his T-shirt and the thermals he wore under his pants. He probably didn’t want to assume. But that’s not where I stopped.
I took everything off but my tank top and my underwear. I undressed without looking at him. If I looked, I might be too nervous to go through with it. But I could feel his eyes on my body as I stepped out of my pants and stood in the tent in the red G-string I’d worn. I’d worn it on purpose. I’d worn it for him.
Once I’d taken off everything I dared, I climbed quickly into the sleeping bag, my teeth chattering. The slick fabric was freezing. “Hurry, it’s so cold.” I shivered.
He followed suit and took off his T-shirt and thermals, turned off the light, and got into the sleeping bag in nothing but his boxers. He gathered me immediately under him, caging me between his forearms and legs like a human heating pad. “Better?” he asked, looking down on me in the dark.
I nodded, biting my lip. “Better.”
He was so warm. He smelled like soap and mint toothpaste and just a hint of smoke. I could feel the coarseness of the hair on his legs, rubbing against the naked smoothness of mine. The strong muscles of his thighs locking me in his firm embrace. His erection, growing harder with every breath he took, pressing into my stomach.
He caressed my cheek absently with his thumb. “You’re shaking,” he whispered, and gently, carefully, he kissed along my jaw, his beard scratching against my skin. I tipped my head back and he trailed his lips down, arching his body over mine as he worked his way to my collarbone.
He didn’t move against me. While I could feel he was turned on, it was like he wanted me to know everything was on my terms and he wouldn’t initiate anything unless I made it clear I wanted him to—it was very Jason of him.
He was always respectful of what I needed. I got the feeling that if I freaked out and told him to sleep outside, he would. He wouldn’t even question it. He’d just kiss me good night and go. Having that control made me feel safe with him, like tonight would be whatever I was ready for it to be and he was okay with that.
He had no idea how much it furthered his cause.
His fingers tunneled through my hair and worked it from its tie, releasing my braid. He combed his fingers through the strands until they fell loose and free around me. He hovered over me, kissing me softly until the shivering stopped.
The forest sighed around us, and I explored him. I nuzzled his Adam’s apple with my nose. Ran my palms along his chest, over his broad shoulders, around the back of his neck and up through his thick hair. I moved down his side and over his waist, brushing the ridges of his six-pack with my thumbs. I loved the scratch of his beard and the firmness against every part of me that was soft. He was so male—hard and hot and virile. Every time he moved, his scent shifted, an intoxicating pheromone that drew me in closer, made everything him.
It was like getting used to cold water. Climbing in a little at a time until you were submerged and warm and ready to swim.
And I was…
When my hands slid across his lower back, I pulled him into me and moved my hips against the length that lay across my stomach. His breath went ragged.
An instant electric tension rolled between us. Everything changed. His tender kisses turned serious, and I felt a surge of heat between my legs. I peeled off my tank top, and his mouth was on my naked skin before the shirt was over my head.
A calloused hand glided up my side and cupped my breast. Then he came back up to my lips and his tongue plunged into my mouth. I nipped at his bottom lip, and he bit me back, releasing me only to devour me again.
There was something more focused than the last time we’d found ourselves this
close. That time in my living room had been playful. This was something else. There was something hungrier about it. Needier.
I wanted him.
I parted my knees and let him settle between my thighs. He shifted down so the tip of him pressed right into me through our underwear. The tease was a little maddening—and I think he knew it. It strained against me right where it would slide in effortlessly if there was nothing between us, almost like he was saying, “If we take these off, you can have this.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice.
I hooked my thumbs at the top of his boxers, yanking them down. He kicked them off and put fingers under the waist of my underwear. He paused breathlessly, waiting for permission, and I nodded against his mouth, lifting my hips.
I’d never been so turned on by the feel of satin sliding down my legs. There was something so carnal about him doing it. His fingernails scraped against my skin in his hurry, and it made me more turned on to know how turned on he was, like he couldn’t get me naked fast enough.
His hand went down to guide himself into me, and I couldn’t wait to feel him. I held my breath for the moment he would glide in—but he hovered over me and circled himself in the wetness along the outside of my opening instead, holding my eyes. Just the tip in, then out, teasing me for a flicker of a second in just the right spot. In, then out. Circle, repeat. Circle, repeat.
It felt amazing—and it also drove me mad. It made me want to claw at his back, pull him inside me.
Circle, repeat. Circle, repeat.
He watched me as he did it, like he wanted to see how much I liked it.
My breath launched, and I began panting.
I ran my hands up his chest, and he tipped his head down and sucked a finger into his mouth. Need ripped through me like a wildfire.
I realized suddenly that much like the Jaxon Waters thing, Jason had underplayed yet another one of his abilities. When we’d been making out on my sofa, I could tell that he knew things, but my God did he know things. He knew exactly how to touch me.
