Laughing, I toss my phone onto the bed just as the perfect way to get Slade back hits me.
I need to act fast to make it work.
The next few minutes are spent with adrenaline coursing through my veins while I bite back the laughter that seems to be flowing freely today.
Then I wait.
It’s probably another five minutes before I hear my name being hollered from the communal shower.
“Are you sure that’s how you want to play, Blakely?” he warns playfully. “No skin off my back.”
I’m sitting on the steps of the porch with his clothes and towel dangling from my fingertips and the grin to beat all grins on my lips.
“Did you forget something?” I call out to him as he exits the shower with nothing but his birthday suit on.
This was supposed to be a trick on him, but I didn’t realize it was going to be one on me too. How am I supposed to watch him close this distance in all his gorgeous splendor? His hair is wet, water drips off his chest, his cock bounces off his thigh with each stride, and a devious desire sparks in his eyes.
“Didn’t forget a thing,” he says and then whistles as if he walks naked every day across a camp. “Good thing I still had my shower shoes on though.”
“Good thing.”
“Or it might have been a prick-ly walk back.”
“Prick-ly, indeed,” I murmur, not bothering to hide my long, appreciative look at him when he steps into the shade of the cabin. I hold the green beach towel a bit higher. “You seem to be a little wet? Did you need this?”
“I need a whole hell of a lot of things.” He returns the languorous appraisal before meeting my eyes again. “Turning the tables on you, making you a little wet, might just be one of them.”
His words burrow under my skin until my body reacts viscerally to them. My nipples pebble. Chills blanket my arms. That slow, sweet ache begins to simmer because the memory of him makes the promise in his words burn that much brighter.
“Is that so?” I ask.
He takes a step toward me, his cock growing harder with each passing second. “You know this means war,” he says, grinning wickedly.
From one beat to another, he’s charging up the stairs. I yelp and run into the cabin. It’s not lost on me that I’m running into a small room with only a bed with a naked, sexy man in hot pursuit. Within seconds, he has his arms around my stomach, his hard length pressing against my ass as he pulls me against him.
“Someone’s feeling a little feisty today, is she?” he murmurs against the curve of my neck, the scrape of his jaw lighting little fires everywhere across my skin.
He slides his hands up to cup my breasts and play with my nipples through the thin fabric of my bathing suit, and his mouth sets a course toward devastation just below my ear.
“If you can’t handle the heat . . .”
His chuckle rumbles from his chest into my back.
How can I want him this much already? It isn’t just the incredible sex we had last night—well, it is, but it’s also the way Slade makes me feel. Youthful. Vibrant. Carefree. Nothing like the proper debutant Paul needed for his stuffed-shirt meetings and his I-should-be-serviced-with-a-blow-job-for-closing-this-merger attitude.
“If you don’t stop, we might be late to the next activity,” I murmur and then moan as his fingers cup my sex.
“That’s the point.”
My neck arches, and my head falls back against his shoulder as he slips his fingers beneath the fabric and finds that soft bundle of nerves there. I lift my foot onto the bed to give him more access, to beg him to take what he wants because hell if it isn’t up for the taking.
Between his kisses, the gentle scrape of his teeth against the slope of my shoulder, his fingers moving masterfully, thoughts of being late for a second time today flicker and fade.
There’s no way I can concentrate on them when he’s doing this.
“Slade.” His name falls from my lips as a moan just as he turns me around and slants his mouth over mine. Where last night was us easing into whatever this is, today is him taking what he wants, and a small thrill shoots through me at the same time his teeth tug on my bottom lip.
The knock on the door startles the shit out of us.
My first thought is how loud was that moan I just emitted?
My second is that I want whoever is there to go away.
Our lips meet again, this time a giggle escaping my lips as my body tremors with the desire coursing through it.
“I should get it,” I murmur between another kiss.
“Unless it’s Horrible Heath—”
“Shhh!” I say as I cover Slade’s mouth before he can finish the nickname. With my luck, it’s her on the other side of the door.
His tongue licks over the palm of my hand covering his mouth, and I throw my head back and laugh.
“I’ll be right there!” I yell to the door.
Another kiss.
“You should get that,” he says.
Then another.
“I should.” I take a very painful step back and laugh at him standing there buck naked. “You should cover that thing up,” I tease and throw the towel at him.
“To be continued,” he mutters, and I laugh again right before I open the door.
Slade
“Gemma!” Blakely says as she slips outside and shuts the door behind her.
I picture the woman. Shorter with curly hair, a great smile, a little timid, and definitely a tad germophobic. The woman pulls out hand sanitizer every five minutes.
She also has shit timing.
They make small talk as my hard-on fades and my thoughts scatter all over the fucking place.
They are mostly of Blakely.
Of the color that lives on her cheeks and the smile that has owned her face nonstop since I met her on the trail this morning. Whatever the hell
