I snap my mouth shut, getting to my feet. He follows, standing an inch away from me. “There is no way in hell you are ever touching me again.” I glare.
He steps forward, backing me against the trunk. “Nice. Now, try again, but this time”—his hands slam up against the tree, caging me in—“say it like you mean it.” Then he bends down, pulling my lower lip into his mouth.
I fight a groan at how it feels to have his mouth on me again, and I can’t help it. I fucking hate myself for being this easy for him, but he doesn’t have to know how well my body responds to him.
He smirks against my mouth, slowly pulling back until my lip pops from his. He licks my chin leisurely. “Wanna lie to me again?”
“I hate you,” I repeat.
“Yeah, I know, but we fuck so well together.”
“Bishop!” Cash hollers from behind us. “Give the girl your fucking hoodie so we can get back to camp.”
Bishop grins, zipping his hoodie down, exposing his white shirt that glows in the moonlight. He tosses it at me and I catch it, slipping my arms into the warmth and fighting the urge to sniff the collar where his sweet, woodsy cologne is strongest. Planted right between clean soap and pure masculinity.
Scowling at him, Nate walks up to us, taking my hand, but I pull back. “Get fucked. I’m not following you anywhere.”
Nate shrugs. “Fine by me.”
Asshole.
Bishop chuckles, but I turn, making my way to God knows where in the forest. “Oh, and I need my gun back!” I yell out over my shoulder.
“Where are you going, kitty?” Nate asks as they all follow me.
“Well, to the camp, of course.”
“And how do you know it’s this way?” Bishop asks, his voice closer behind me.
“Because I just know.”
We make it to the camp, and as soon as the bonfire comes into view, I relax. It’s in the middle, and there’re around seven tents scattered throughout the area, but far enough away from each other to not know what’s going on in the one across from you.
“Madi!” Carter yells out from a log beside the campfire. He jogs up to me, and I see his eyes go over my shoulder to the boys behind me, a hundred questions no doubt simmering through his brain. A hundred questions I don’t owe him answers for. “Hey, you made it.”
I smile. “Just.”
Bishop snickers from behind me, and Nate leaves, snatching a bottle of whiskey off someone who has already passed out.
Carter looks back to me, his eyes glassy and lazy. Obviously, he’s drunk, and obviously, I’m jealous. It’s not quite midnight yet, and I need a drink. “Let me show you where your tent is.”
“Ok—”
“I got this. Thanks, bumboy.” Bishop hooks his arm around my waist, steering me toward a tent at the back, hidden a little deeper into the forest.
“Bishop! That was fucking rude. He set up our tent.”
“So he fucking should. It’s what bumboys do. Now...” We step into the junction of the tent, where two of the bedrooms join the other two bedrooms. He unzips one side, pushing me into the dark room. “Get changed into something more slutty.”
“What?” I snap. He steps inside the room too, but I can’t see him. I can only make out the edges of his body from the flickering fire dancing, where the party is. “Get out.”
He steps closer. “No.”
I step backward. “Bishop, I mean it. Get back.”
He counters my footwork, stepping forward once again. “No,” he whispers into the inky yet surprisingly warm enclosure of the tent. My back hits the weak wall of the tent and I gasp, closing my eyes. Fuck. I’m so totally screwed with him. I feel him before I see anything, his thumb dancing across my bottom lip. “Scared?”
“Define scared,” I breathe, my eyes still closed.
His thumb moves down the rim of my jaw, slowly trickling down the side of my neck and over my jugular. His warm mouth skims over mine softly. “Of me,” he whispers.
I open my eyes, the white of his skeleton mask glowing and the white of his eyes bright. “Yes,” I answer honestly, because I am. I don’t trust him, but I did like having sex with him. Maybe he’s right; maybe we can just have sex.
“Good.”
“This.” I gesture between us. “What is it?”
He lets out a throaty chuckle. “It means nothing. Just sex. You seem to get my dick hard, so I’m running with it.”
Swallowing past his words, I think over what this would mean for me. I’ve always gotten attached to the guys I sleep with. It’s a fault of mine, and inside, I’d probably be labeled as a crazy girl, but I tend to feel too much.
“I’ve never done it before,” I admit. “The whole friends-with-benefits thing.”
He laughs, this time tilting his head back, and thoughts dance in my head to what it would be like smacking him upside the head in this very moment. “Baby, we are not friends, and we are most definitely not friends with benefits. You’re my nemesis, who I always get panty-less. Now,” he mutters, gripping the front of my dress and tearing it off. “Drop them.”
Pushing my thoughts to the back of my head, I step out of my thong, kicking it away. He steps back, and I see his head tilt in the shadows.
“Fine,” I mutter. “But no one is to know, and also, I’m not very good at this, because I tend to—”
“Stop fucking talking.” His mouth smashes down onto mine. I groan softly, tilting my head to give his tongue more access. He works with his belt between us, yanking it off and dropping it to the ground with a clink. Bringing his hand up to my throat, he clenches roughly before slowly gliding down the front of me, squeezing one of my nipples between his fingers.
“Mmm,” I moan into his mouth.
“Fucking missed this mouth,” he mutters
