Flash fiction on a Monday

Cabin Fever
He traced the arch of her back with his eyes, connected the constellation of freckles across her shoulders, followed her soft curves until the warm, naked flesh ended in an old patchwork comforter.
“Yes they can,” he said in a murmur, smiling.
They’d come to the cabin to prepare it for winter. He promised hard work, dirty hands, a simple meal, wine, a roaring fire.
She’d been intrigued about his hideout, his life away from the city, pleased he trusted her. Disappointed over the mention of separate beds.
Dusk fell early, marked by frosty breath, tingled fingers. The old stone fireplace stoked, he asked that she get comfortable while he flipped steaks on the grill.
Seeing her naked - curves outlined in the crackling firelight – filled him with nervous surprise.
A deep breath, a sip of wine, a slight nod of his head, he came up from behind and placed his hands lightly on her hips, buried his head in her hair, let out a contented sigh.
“Friends so too can be lovers,” she whispered.


quin browne said...

you almost sold me... almost.

J.C. Montgomery said...

Oh.... that kind of fever. Hehe. ;-)