“I have to tell you something,” I whisper, my lips trailing across the soft skin of her neck. “Because we did say we wanted honesty.”
“Right,” she whispers, breathless. “Rule number four.”
My teeth graze the tendon where her neck meets her shoulder. It’s a light caress with just enough bite for her to feel the sting. She sucks in a breath and a dark thrill runs through me. I move slightly, just enough so that my leg is between hers. I can feel the heat of her against my leg as she tries to press herself closer to me.
“Right now, all I want is to be buried inside you.” I move as I say the words, my leg rubbing against her core. Hannah lets out a little whimper and clutches at my shoulders.
“I want that too,” she whispers. “I want this.”
One of her hands slides down and she caresses the length of my cock through my pants. I groan and push my hips forward, pressing myself against that hand. I’m rock hard and I know it wouldn’t take much for Hannah to push me over the edge. Part of me is shocked. I’ve never seen this bold side of Hannah before. I like it. A car door slams nearby, and I hear voices speaking. The parking lot is dark, but it’s definitely not private. I take a reluctant step back. My body is no longer pressed against Hannah’s, but I don’t relinquish my hold on her. It’s as though now that I’ve given myself permission to touch her, I don’t want to stop. I tuck a stray curl behind her ear and watch her shiver at that small touch.
“We should go,” I say. “You probably need to get home.”
“Probably,” she whispers. “But I have a better idea. Get in.”
Once we’re back on the road, Hannah becomes the navigator, pointing out where I need to turn. I do as she says, paying more attention to her than to where we’re going. I know this area well, but everything looks different at night. When we pull to a stop in a gravel parking lot mostly surrounded by trees, it takes me a moment to realize where we are. There are no other cars parked in the lot and the single overhead light in one corner does little to illuminate the surrounding area. I glance at Hannah and notice a playful look in her eyes.
“Harper’s Pier?” She must hear the skepticism in my voice because she smiles and rolls her eyes.
“Come on,” she says, reaching for her door handle. “How long has it been since you’ve been out here?”
“Years,” I say honestly.
Harper’s Pier gets a lot of foot traffic during the daylight hours but hasn’t been popular at night probably since my high school days. It’s a long, narrow pier that winds through the woods and eventually ends out on the river. There are lots smaller branches winding off from the main pier with benches here and there. When I was a teenager, we used to joke that the pier was haunted. We’d make up scary stories and try to get our friends to jump at imaginary noises in the trees. I’d heard that the city recently installed more lights along the pier and added handrails for safety, but this is the first time I’ve been to Harper’s Pier in years.
I follow Hannah as she climbs out of the truck. She holds out a hand to me and I take it, twining my fingers in hers. I marvel at how natural it feels to do it. Just yesterday, it would have felt strange or awkward, but now I can’t stop touching her. She leads the way across the parking lot to the pier entrance. The trees close in around us as we leave the parking lot behind. The moon is nearly full tonight so it’s not nearly as dark as it could be. The lights along the pier are dim and spaced far enough apart to throw the spaces between them into shadow. At first, the only sounds are those of our footsteps on the wood and our breathing.
Hannah glances back at me and I see her smile in the dark. We don’t speak as we walk deeper into the trees. The sounds of the night begin to surround us. Frogs croak, crickets chirp, and somewhere an owl lets out a soft hoot. I see fireflies blinking in and out among the trees and I’m thankful it’s not hotter outside or we’d be dealing with swarms of mosquitoes. The air is cool, but I can feel a hint of the humidity that summer will bring in a few short weeks. Ahead of us, the pier splits off to the right. If my memory is correct, that branch winds into the trees for a bit and ends with a little covered area and a few benches. Hannah hesitates for a moment before turning down it and I follow her.
The new branch isn’t quite as wide as the main pier, so I have no choice but to walk behind her. It’s too dark for me to appreciate the view of her hips swaying in those jeans, but I can draw from my memory.
“Where are we going?” I ask in a low voice.
Hannah doesn’t look back as she answers. “We’re exploring. Just come on.”
“Okay,” I say, indulging this playful side of her I hadn’t known existed before now.
Ahead, I can see the roof of the gazebo-like structure marking the end of this branch of the pier. Hannah walks as far as the pier allows. She lets go of my hand and leans her elbows on the railing, peering out at the forest around us. I follow her gaze for a moment, before my eyes go back to her face. I’d much rather look at her than the woods. We’re both silent for several seconds. I
