My Secret Deal 5

“Wait. You’re joking, right?”

Jake didn’t answer. He just kept driving — deeper into the woods, where the trees got taller, and the roads got narrower, and my cell signal quietly dropped off the grid.

“Jake,” I said, gripping his jacket tighter. “You’re not seriously taking me to some horror movie murder cabin, are you?”

Nothing.

He just accelerated a little, like my panic was funny.

I wasn’t sure what made me more nervous — the fact that we were alone in the middle of nowhere, or the fact that I didn’t hate being alone in the middle of nowhere with him.

The bike finally slowed to a stop near a hidden clearing, surrounded by towering pines. I slid off and took in the view.

A private lake. Still, quiet, perfectly glassy. A small wooden cabin sat nearby, tucked into the trees like it belonged there.

Jake stepped off the bike, lit a cigarette, and took a long drag like this was all completely normal.

I looked around. “Are you going to kill me now, or later?”

He didn’t answer. Just started walking.

“Cool,” I muttered, following. “Love the communication.”

He led me through the trees until we hit the edge of the lake. It was beautiful. Wild. Untouched. The sunlight glittered across the surface, and everything smelled like pine and fresh air.

Jake stopped by the water, took off his leather jacket, and threw it onto a log. His black t-shirt clung to him just enough to outline lean muscles and tattoos that peeked from his sleeves. When he glanced back at me, I looked away fast.

I hated how my stomach flipped.

“What is this place?” I asked.

“My brother’s,” he said, taking another drag from his cigarette. “He left it to me.”

There was weight in those words, but I didn’t push.

Instead, I turned back toward the lake — and jumped when Jake said, “Strip.”

“Excuse me?!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Skinny dipping, remember?”

“I remember making a list,” I said. “I don’t remember signing a contract with Satan.”

“Too late,” he smirked. “List said ‘skinny dip.’ Let’s go.”

I crossed my arms. “You’re such a perv.”

He took one step closer, eyes locked on mine. “Please. I’m not even tempted. I’ve seen way hotter girls naked.”

My jaw dropped. “Are you serious?!”

“Completely.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re stalling.”

I gaped at him. “You really just said that. Out loud.”

Jake just shrugged and dropped the cigarette, crushing it with his boot.

“My parents will murder me if I come home with wet hair and no explanation.”

He didn’t say anything. Just took another step toward me.

And I backed up. Instinctively.

Another step. Another retreat.

Then I tripped.

His arms shot out and caught me — again — hands gripping my waist, pulling me flush against him.

“You always fall this easily, Waters?” he murmured.

I could feel the heat of him, the way his breath brushed my cheek. My pulse was a mess.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, pushing him back.

But I was laughing. And I hated how good it felt.

Jake tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “What, too scared to follow through?”

“I’m not scared.”

“Prove it.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Fine. But you’re going first.”

He smirked. “Thought you’d never ask.”

And without hesitation — he started to undress.

Boots. Socks. Shirt. Pants.

He stripped like he didn’t care at all — like being naked in the woods with me watching was the most natural thing in the world.

I spun around the second his jeans hit the ground.

“Oh my God,” I gasped. “You’re insane!”

“Come on, Waters!” he called, already walking into the water. “You’re the one who put it on the list!”

“Yeah, not with you! I was thinking, like, lake-at-night, alone, poetic—not this.”

“No take-backs.”

I peeked over my shoulder. He was waist-deep in the water, hair wet, shoulders gleaming in the sun, and clearly enjoying himself.

“Your turn,” he said.

My heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my ears.

But I was already tugging at the hem of my hoodie.

And I didn’t stop.