I’dlikedit.
Loved it.
Thought about it constantly since.
Heat crawled up my neck.
Because no matter how much I tried to keep things PG in my head, my brain would not stop replaying the part where he was very muchnotPG. And how I’d felt him. All of him.
And it had been—
My face burned so hard I could roast marshmallows on it.
He was… substantial.
Perfectly endowed.
Gifted by nature.
Built for outdoor survival and ruining my emotional stability.
Every time I closed my eyes, my thoughts whispered,It was hanging quite perfectly, wasn’t it?
I flung a pillow across the room at the intrusive voice.
“I’m a professional woman,” I hissed at no one.
The pillow hit the wall with a sad flop.
I dropped onto a chair, burying my head in my knees. “What am I doing?”
I tried to be rational.
He and I barely knew each other.
We were still in the early stages—the light, getting-to-know-you stage. The stage where questions like “Do you like raisins in trail mix?” were appropriate, not “How do you feel about the deep intimacy of sharing a sleeping bag and having your soul rearranged by a kiss?”
But no.
I had rocketed past the early stage.
Skipped the medium stage.
Catapulted into the “How’s it hanging?” stage.
And yes,very well,thank you, this is why my brain is broken.
I flopped backward, staring at the ceiling.
Maybe I could compartmentalize.
Maybe I could treat it like a blip.
A moment of wilderness-induced insanity.
People did that, right?
Temporary lapses.
