Caveman by V. Andrian Read Free Book Online

He lies on the floor on his side, with his back to me. Is he… going to sleep there? Oh, fuck, I’m sitting on the only bed.
    “Please,” I start softly. “Don’t sleep on the floor. I can sit on the chair and you can sleep in your bed. I don’t want to put you out of your way.”
    He doesn’t respond. He’s just lying there on the floor, using his arm bent under his cheek as a pillow. Oh, hell no. I’m not so shocked by my situation that I’m about to let him sleep on the floor while I’ll be lying awake on his bed.
    I push to my feet and stumble towards him. I reach the chair and turn to sit on it. I never make it. Once again, I’m being picked up and deposited on the bed.
    “Stay,” he growls.
    “No,” I retort firmly, trying to ignore the shivers his voice brings me. “I’m not going to sleep. You are. Ergo you take the bed.”
    “I am not asking,” he growls again and – oh my freaking God! – I think I’m getting wet as he leans forward. He’s trying to scare me but all he manages is to turn me on yet again. What the fuck is wrong with me?
    “And I’m not a dog,” I insist stubbornly.
    Is that…? Did his lips just twitch? Fuck the beard for not letting me see that. “You stay on that bed if you want your leg to heal.” His voice now comes out a little calmer.
    “It will heal. Please, take the bed.”
    Our eyes stay connected for a long moment. I have to suppress the urge to lean forward just to get closer to him. Why am I so drawn to him?
    He finally breaks the connection and pulls back, putting more distance between us. “You take the bed or don’t. Do as you please.” And then he just lies back on the floor in front of the fireplace and that’s it. I’m dismissed and I feel like a brat having just been scolded when he is the one acting like one. Why can’t he just take the freaking bed?
    I lie on my side with my back turned to him. It’s not a comfortable position since my hurt leg is on top and it feels rather heavy but now I am feeling like a brat. I’ve just been in a plane crash, barely making it out alive and I’m in a cabin in the middle of some forest in Alaska with a sexy, stubborn, nameless caveman. And I’m pretty sure my obsession on Damon Sawyers just caused the life of another man. How did things get so bad? Why couldn’t I have just kept photographing cheating spouses?
    I curl to my side as much as my splinted leg will let me and let out the silent tears that are begging to fall.

Chapter Five
    I wake up once again to the silence of the cabin. It took me quite some time to fall asleep last night and I think it’s late morning now. The fire is burning low, which is odd. It was burning strong all day yesterday and I thought my caveman never let it go out.
    I manage to push to my feet and realize in relief that it hurts much less today. In fact, I think the swelling might have subsided so much that the splint and bandages have come a little loose. I sit back down and carefully un-wrap the cloths and remove the splint. My ankle is a little red but I was right. It’s not swollen anymore. When I stand back up, it doesn’t hurt more than it did with the splint on and I decide to leave it like that.
    Outside the day is like the previous one. Bright blue sky above and green trees as far as the eye can see. There is no other sound than the birds singing and the sound of nature in general. No wood chopping or any other indication that my caveman is around. I open my mouth to call out to him but I close it back again. How do I call him? He hasn’t told me his name, even though I’ve asked.
    Finally I open my mouth and call out, “Hello?”
    Nothing. I call out again, louder but get no response. Where is he? I take the steps and follow the route I took yesterday to where he was chopping logs but he’s not here either. His axe is here and, for a moment, I consider taking it to defend myself against a wild animal but then dismiss the idea almost immediately. It’s not