He turns to face me, the light inside haloing around his silhouette. There are so many things about him in this moment that hit me like a sucker punch in the gut, and I struggle with words as I try to fathom how this all happened so quickly—the bar, the napkin to-do list, him, and my growing feelings for him.
But I don’t have an answer.
It isn’t possible.
A lopsided smile slides onto his lips. “Don’t look now, Blakely,” he whispers as if we’re the only two people left on earth. “But you might just be figuring out how to howl at the moon.”
As I watch him watch me, I try to figure out if I should be annoyed with him for pushing my limits like he did tonight or love him for it. Our eyes hold across the short distance, nature a symphony in the night around us, as his grin widens and taunts.
With a pretend howl, which likely sounds pathetic, I launch myself at him. Lips and hands and bodies collide, as I jump into his arms.
He stumbles backward, caught off guard, but his laughter rings out as he kicks the door closed behind us.
Our laughter turns into moans.
Our fantasies meld into reality.
Blakely
As I walk back from the camp showers, my hair is wet, parts of me are unabashedly sore, and I’m so not wanting to leave my laughter with Slade for my misery with Heather.
But it isn’t as if I have a choice.
I clomp up the steps with my shower stuff clutched in my hand and smile when I see the napkin taped to the door.
I study the list and laugh at his half crossed off items. When I go to open the door, though, it’s locked.
“Hey,” I say and knock on it. “Open up.”
“Not until you give me the secret code,” he says from behind the slab.
I hang my head and bite back my grin. “Funny. C’mon, I need to get ready so I’m not late today.”
“You have plenty of time.”
“Open the door, Slade.”
“What’s the secret password then?”
“Thirty-six inches,” I say, knowing that was his rough (and wrong) estimate of the length of my legs last night as he ran his tongue up my inseam. Just the thought of what that tongue did to me has me shifting on my feet.
“While I do think we need to try to measure them again just to be sure, that is not the password.”
“Then why is it crossed off the list?”
“Because sometimes we need to feel accomplished, and after last night,” he says, “I feel accomplished.”
“Slade.” My voice is a warning.
“The code is: Slade is a stud,” he says.
And while I may agree, I let the smile play at the corner of my mouth before giving him what he wants. “Slade is a stud,” I moan the words, playing them up for maximum effect, but nothing happens. The door doesn’t unlock. Nothing. “Slade, I gave you the password, now open the door.”
I can hear his chuckle from the other side. “That’s not the password, I just wanted to hear you say that.”
“Bastard,” I mutter playfully.
“I can’t hear you, what was that?”
“Slade.” I sigh, but it contradicts the smile I can’t stop smiling.
“Fuck you, Heather,” he says.
“What?”
“That’s the password. Fuck you, Heather.”
“I can’t say that.”
“Sure you can. I’m sure you’ve said it a million times in your head. Now you just have to say it out loud.
“Someone might hear me.”
“I won’t open the door until you say it.”
My shoulders sag, and I shake my head while laughing because I know from experience he won’t give up until I say it. “Fuck you, Heather,” I mumble.
“What was that?”
“I said it. Now will you open the door?”
“I couldn’t hear it. You need to say it a little louder.”
“You’re maddening.”
“And you love it.”
And I do. I can’t deny it. Who else would have me shouting passwords through a door?
“Fuck you, Heather,” I say a little bit louder.
As soon as I say it, he yanks the door open, and Slade is standing there in his board shorts and a Henley with the long sleeves pulled up to the elbows. His smile is wide, and his eyes sparkle with mischief as he runs a hand through his hair.
God is he gorgeous.
“Are you happy?” I ask.
“I’m always happy. I think the question you wanted to ask was, am I satisfied.” I glare at him. “And as you know, satisfaction is a hard thing to measure.”
“Funny.”
“Do you know what your goal is today in the plan to take Blakely back?”
“I think I’m afraid to ask.”
“It’s your turn to stand up to her today. If she pops off to you in the meeting this morning, or any other time, stand up for yourself. You’re gaining traction with your colleagues so you’ll have them silently rooting you on.”
I don’t give an answer because what he’s asking of me isn’t the easiest thing to do, and if I tell him I will and then fail, I’ll hate disappointing him.
“C’mon. Find that girl of mine who was howling at the moon last night and let her loose.”
“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist calling,” I say in greeting as I stop just short of the amphitheater to talk to her before heading into my meeting.
“You know I’m dying to know what’s going on,” Kelsie says, her voice almost a squeal. “Have you gotten horizontal yet?”
“To sleep? Yes. I do believe sleeping works much better when you’re horizontal.”
“Oh, you’re sassy. I haven’t heard that in quite some time, which leads me to believe that you have, in fact, played with Slide-It-In-Slade.”
My grin is automatic and so is the need to tell her I have. It isn’t because I want to brag but because I’m so damn happy. “Perhaps.”
“That’s a definite yes. Why are you not screaming it from the rooftops? Or why are you wherever you are talking to me and not in bed with him?”
I chuckle. “I’m heading into a meeting, so
