Good idea, Calla. Let’s remind him of this right now.

His brow arches, but in his gaze I see confirmation of a guess. “That’s not my type.”

“But you said—”

“You’re my type.” His voice is gentle but he levels me with a steady gaze.

I pause, caught off guard by the seriousness in his eyes. “And what is that, exactly?”

With a deep sigh, he shifts, and then his mouth is following the same pathway of his palm. “Smart . . .” His tongue drags along my collarbone, back and forth several times, leaving a cool trail of wetness as it moves down to curl around my hardened nipple. “Fiery . . .”

I gasp as he sucks hard on it once before releasing it. His giant, muscular body shifts downward, pushing my legs apart as it moves, his lips pressing kisses down the center of my stomach, making my abdominal muscles tense. “Witty . . .”

I hold my breath as the coarse hairs of his beard tickle against my inner thighs.

He lingers there.

I shut my eyes and swallow hard, my mind screaming with anticipation.

“And, so damn beautiful . . .” He whispers, the words skating over me in a warm breeze.

I let out a soft moan the moment his mouth settles on me.

I can’t believe this is actually happening. I can’t believe Jonah is . . .

I stare up at the wooden ceiling of this shabby little cabin in wonder, my heartbeat racing as my hormones go into overdrive, flooding my body with heat.

He doesn’t relent, doesn’t pause, and the tiny, guttural sounds escaping his throat are heady with desire. Not before long, my nervousness has faded, and I find myself fumbling to weave my fingers through his hair, rolling my pelvis against his mouth, calling out his name with my desperate cries, the only sound for miles upon miles, save for the pounding rain.

By the time he climbs up to settle his hips between my thighs and push into me, I’m desperate for him.

My limbs curl around his body as I watch his broad chest heave with each thrust, and his hooded eyes alight with fire, our gazes locked, and I wonder how on earth I could ever possibly have not wanted this man.

“Am I going to wake up to find that gone in the morning, too?” Jonah murmurs, his voice scratchy and deep, but full of humor.

I trail the tips of my long nails through the soft, dark blond fuzz that coats Jonah’s chest, deliciously damp from the sheen of sweat, circling first one nipple and then the other. “No. I think we’ll keep this. But this . . .” My hand moves upward, sliding across his beard, tracing the hard lines of his jaw, the pad of my thumb smoothing over his soft lips. “I think I’ll clean this up a bit more for you.”

My head, settled against his chest, shakes with his deep chuckle. “What am I, your doll?”

I drag my fingers south, down the center of his chest ever so lightly, along the ridges of his stomach. I smile with delight when his muscles spasm. “More like my well-groomed action figure.”

It’s deathly silent in the cabin save for the constant drum of falling rain against the roof and his quickening breath as I follow the dark trail of hair below his belly button, itching to go farther, to tease his velvety-soft skin and watch him swell again.

“Don’t start something you’re not ready to finish,” he warns.

I slide my thigh over his. “Who says I’m not ready to finish?” I can’t seem to get enough of Jonah. I can’t even look at his mouth without thinking of it on me; can’t think of his hands without remembering where he’s touched me. A nervous ripple courses through my body as the thought floods me now.

But I do hold back. I’ve found a blissful resting spot in the crook of his arm, my body pressed along his side, absorbing his warmth, and I don’t want to ruin the peaceful moment.

“That fire needs another log.”

I groan. “Don’t make me move.” The foam roll is narrow and thin, and it does little to disguise the fact that we’re lying on a cold, hard wood floor that’s seen countless boots, and yet it’s easy to forget about that right now.

My stomach lets out a deep growl. “What are we going to do about food?”

“We’re fine. There’s a bunch of water, and we’ve got enough of this alone to feed us for days.” He stretches an arm to reach into his duffel bag and pulls out two bags with leathery strips of meat in them.

“What is that? Beef jerky?”

“Basically.” He holds up another with a deep rose color. “And this one’s salmon.”

I crinkle my nose at that.

“I take it that’s a no to salmon?”

“I hate fish.”

“Man, you are in the wrong part of the world.”

“Where’d you get them, anyway?”

“Ethel. Remember her?”

“The woman who threatened to cut off her son’s hand? Vaguely.”

Jonah chuckles. “She gave them to me the last time I was at her village.” He pulls a dark brown strip from the first bag and tears off a chunk with his teeth, his jaw tensing in a sexy way as he chews. “Here, try it.” He holds it out for me.

I sniff. It has a smoky scent. “Is it any good?”

“Better than any store-bought stuff I’ve ever had. And it’s all we have to eat, so come on.” He taps my lips. “Take a bite.”