Follow the River

“I’m good,” I say, spi

But of course, in true River fashion, he doesn’t fucking listen.

He’s already stepping up to the stack of wood, gathering some in his own arms.

Fine. Let him help. No way he will carry in more than this load. I can just throw my shit inside and take a few more trips to get a little more time outside.

Away from him.

When I head back out into the night after stacking the pile of logs next to the fireplace, I feel River following close behind again.

My molars might crack by the time we leave this damn cabin with how often I grind my teeth to keep from biting his head off.

The thing I might dislike about him the most has to be the fact that he’s genuinely a nice guy. Too fucking nice. Even though he calls me out on my shit, bickers with me, and threatens me with revenge after what happened in the shower. When he has every reason to leave me out here to freeze my nuts off, he doesn't. Because he’s a good person.

And I can’t fucking stand it.

“I’ve got it, Le

“It’s getting colder and it’s pitch black outside already. Let me help you. I don’t mind.”

“I fucking mind,” I spit at him, my temper rapidly increasing to dangerous levels.

Knock-down-drag-out levels.

He doesn’t budge from the doorway though. I’m forced to look at him, really fucking look at him, for the first time since we got back to the cabin from town three days ago. He’s dressed in a dark sweatshirt and jeans, a beanie on his head and snow boots on his feet. His jaw is riddled with scruff, as if he hasn’t shaved in a few days.

I hate that it makes him even better looking than he already is, with those eyes as vivid as polished turquoise and ever-tousled brown locks.

At least he’s wearing the beanie, so I’m not tempted to run my fingers through his hair. Maybe grip onto it while I drive into him from behind.

My dick stirs behind my zipper, liking that idea entirely too much for my comfort.

Fuck.

His brow quirks up in surprise at me snapping at him. “What the hell, man? Are you seriously incapable of accepting help? Or is it just because I’m the one asking?”

“Doesn’t matter. Move. Get out of the way. Before I freeze my damn nuts off standing in the doorway.”

He doesn’t budge. Instead he crowds in further, so close that if I didn’t have this stack of logs in my arms, our chests would be touching.

“That’s okay. I’d rather stay right here. If your nuts get cold, I’ll gladly warm them up for you with my tongue.” His mouth is centimeters away, his lips brushing mine lightly as he speaks. “After all, I know how much you like it when I suck them into my mouth. How quickly it gets you going.”

And then the asshole flicks his tongue out in a wicked caress against my lips.

Oh, fuck this shit.

My arms drop the woodpile, not giving a flying fuck if they land on either of our feet. Because I’m about to lose my damn mind and completely forget the task at hand.

No, not collecting firewood.

Ignoring him. Avoiding yet another confrontation.

I shove him in the chest. Hard. I must’ve caught him off guard, because he stumbles back, tripping over a log that landed behind him. My hands co

I stare down at him, both lust and fury raging through my veins. The fact that fighting with him like this gets me hard as a rock only serves to piss me off more.

It’s an endless cycle and from the grin on his face, he seems to thoroughly enjoy it.

“I’m fucking done with your shit, River. I’m over it.” My hand slices through the air in outrage as I shout the words at the top of my lungs. Screw being quiet or civil, I’m not afraid of anyone hearing our dispute. My heart is pounding inside my chest, as if it might explode right along with my mental fortitude. I drop my voice, letting it drip with ice. “Stop taunting me. Stop trying to mess with my mind like it’s your favorite game. We’ve been here nine days and we have at least twenty-five more to go. You’re driving me insane, on purpose. Do us both a favor and don’t test my fucking patience. Or I swear to God, I’ll bend you over right here and fuck you into submission.”

I don’t bother waiting for a response, just spin and start for the house. Except I don’t make it more than three steps before a force slams into my back. I stumble into the side of the shed and grip it for balance, but River is there, yanking on my shoulder until my back is pressed into the rough wood siding. Before I have the chance to make a move, River’s hand is gripping the front of my throat, the other resting against the shed above me, and his hips pining me in place.

I can feel his cock, thick and stiff against my thigh.

From the sinful smirk on his lips, I’m painfully aware he can feel how hard I am too.

“I’m not the one submitting tonight,” he growls fiercely.

“Riv—” I start, but my protest is cut short when he crashes his lips into mine.

His mouth is hot and insistent against mine as he pours his pent up rage into this kiss. It’s harsh and volatile.

It’s fucking transcendent.

He tastes of peppermint and rivalry and forbidden desire and something addictively masculine. A flick of his tongue against my lips causes me to gasp, which he takes full advantage of by slipping his tongue inside where it tangles against mine in a brutal battle for dominance.

My hands fly to his chest and I grip the fabric of his sweatshirt between my clenched fists as panic floods my body.

Fuck, this is the first kiss I’ve had in four years and it’s with the most infuriating motherfucker I’ve ever met.

Whether or not the bigger issue of my thought is that I can’t stand him or that he is a he, I can’t say at this moment. All I can do is attempt to push him away, off of me.

Because I don’t want this.

But for some inexcusable reason, my hands do the exact opposite and hold onto him for dear life. Even when he is the very thing causing me to feel like I’m drowning in the first place.

The dual sensation of his lips on mine and his body pressed tightly against me causes my dick to get impossibly harder, and when he moans into my mouth, deep and husky, I almost lose it completely.

River’s hands move to grasp each side of my face and tilt my head for better access. For more control.

It shouldn’t surprise me that the way he kisses matches the way he teases and taunts and fucks with me every chance he gets. Making me fucking desperate. To make it stop or for him, I couldn’t say. And hell, the confidence in it. The insistence and demand, taking what he wants from me like he knows I’m going to just stop everything to give it to him.

And. I. Fucking. Do.

But the second his hips shift, causing his erection, and subsequently my own, to grind behind our clothing, I manage to detach my lips from his for a brief moment.

That only seems to spur him on more, though. He moves his mouth to my throat and his hands fly between us. The fumbling of his belt and zipper greet my ears as wet, open-mouthed kisses are plastered against my neck, from my jaw to my collarbone and back up again.