by Wood, Vivian
I’m a little stunned by her casual use of my nickname. “Umm. Yes?”
A flat-out lie, but it plays into her whole game. She rewards me with a smile.
“You’ve got a little bit of pasta sauce right there...” She leans in and smears my lower lip with pasta sauce. “Oops. I think I made it worse. Let me try to fix it again…”
Then she presses her lips to mine, sucking on my lower lip. I taste the salt of the pasta and the tang of tomatoes over her sweet vanilla scent.
Fuck. I forget that Clay is watching. I forget that I’m hungry for food. For just that second, it feels so good to kiss her that the world around us ceases to exist.
I freeze for a second, then remember we are supposed to be play acting. So I groan softly and grab the back of her head, deepening the kiss.
I allow my eyes to fall closed, letting the kiss vibrate across my skin. The only places I have contact with her are the back of my hand and my lips, but I feel the movement of her lips reverberating throughout my whole body. My arms and shoulders tighten just a little. I lean closer.
Seeking. Hungry.
She makes a quiet noise, the barest moan. It unlocks a primal part of me, makes me pull her closer. My fingers twine in her hair, my lips trail down to her jaw.
Touching Rachel feels like the most natural thing in the world. At the same time, it is the most dangerous thing I could do right now. I find that spot on her neck, the one that when I touch my lips to it she always whimpers. I suck very lightly.
The responsive little animal that she is, she makes this soft ‘ohhhh’.
My hand goes around her body, pulling her closer. Our chairs are between us, leaning awkwardly. But I barely notice them. I’m ravenous all of a sudden for something that wasn’t on the menu until just now.
Her head falls back, another tiny moan of desire pulled from her lips. Then I feel her lock up and push me away. Opening my eyes, I see her blush bright pink. Her gaze darts to Clay, who I’d honestly forgotten completely.
He looks pissed.
“Sorry,” she blurts out. She straightens, pushing me further away. “It’s just that since you already know about Grayson and I, I felt that there was no need to hide it anymore.” Her lips quirk. “I’ve moved on, Clay.”
Clay sputters, standing up so fast that he knocks his chair backward. “If you two are fucking, there isn’t any point in my being here, is there?”
She doesn’t beam at his words, but I can tell that she is trying to contain herself. She pushes her hair back out of her face. “I tried to tell you that already.”
Clay looks at me, a sneer on his lips. “Good luck fucking her. Seriously, she’s as frigid as the polar ice cap.”
I lean forward, a sneer on my lips. “She’s always hot and wet and eager for me.”
His nostrils flare. “Maybe you’ll have better luck in that department. And anyway, I doubt you will ever be able to take my place, at least in her family’s eyes.”
That stings a little, even though it’s nothing but the truth.
He turns and stalks to his Range Rover, slamming the door and revving the engine before peeling out. Once he’s gone, I look at Rachel.
She clears her throat and stands up, stacking the dishes. “Do you want the rest of the pasta?”
“Should we talk about… whatever that was? I mean, you were… and I was…” I adjust how I’m sitting, because now I have this hard-on that won’t go away.
She just gives a bark of laughter and scoops up the plates. “I will see you tomorrow.”
With that, she jogs off toward the cabins.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rachel
I sigh, lying on the uncomfortable little cot in my tiny cabin. The last couple of days have been an exercise in self-control. I absolutely don't want to talk to Grayson about what happened between us the other day. I definitely don't want to be laying here right now, thinking about how good his lips felt on my neck. Or how they would feel on my breasts or my clit.
To distract from the fact that I’m sort of coming apart at the seams a little, I set a punishing amount of miles for the two of us to hike the last two days. Enough that I barely made it back to camp before sagging onto this little cot, two days in a row.
Grayson is on my mind basically all the time. I think about the way he smells, all woodsy and manly. I think about the two kisses we’ve shared recently. I remember how it felt back when we were together and think about how good he could make my body feel now.
In an attempt to drive those thoughts from my head, I push harder and hike faster. Yet somehow, I can’t sleep.
I can’t get Grayson out of my head. And I already know from experience that when I do fall asleep, I will dream of him. In my dreams, I lack the flimsy boundaries that I have when I’m awake. So there is every chance that I will wake up with my body throbbing with the very real need that Grayson accidentally seems to have stirred up.
Blowing out a long breath, I admit it to myself. I don't have to go to sleep to ache with want. I’m not sure what exactly started this, but now the genie is out of the bottle. There is no amount of exercising or meditating on nature that will make my need lessen.
There are two options I can see to resolve this.
One, I go crawl into Grayson’s hammock and fuck his brains out. It would be messy and have so many consequences, but in the moment it would be deeply gratifying.
And I already know that I would be satisfied. I seem to remember that Grayson is hung like a horse. My mouth waters, just thinking about it.
Two, I take care of my own needs. It seems way less appealing, but it wouldn’t leave strings to be cut later.
I sigh. Obviously I’ll have to do the latter, but the former is just so damned appealing. Pushing the tiny sleep shorts down to my knees, I let my eyes sink closed and summon the image of Grayson.
In my mind, he’s hovering over me, undressing me in a hurry. His blue eyes are full of desire, his hands trembling with need. He bows before me, kissing a spot just under my navel.
My fingers find my clit. I’m already soaking wet, my clit blossoming under my fingertips as I begin to stroke myself.
In my mind, though, it’s Grayson parting my thighs. Burying his face between my legs. Making me groan.
“Grayson,” I call out hungrily. God, I’m ready to come just thinking about him.
There is a knock on my door. My eyes fly open. I freeze, my fingers soaked with my own juices.
“Rachel? Did you call for me?” Grayson asks.
Oh fuck. I rip my hands away from between my thighs and yank my shorts up.
“Uhh…” I call. Looking for somewhere to wipe my fingers, I settle on the sleeping bag beneath me. “Just a second.”
I bounce up to my feet, crossing the tiny cabin. Pulling open the door, I reveal Grayson, looking as brooding as ever. His forehead is wrinkled with concern.
“Are you okay?” he asks, cocking his head. “You look a little flushed.”
His comment makes me blush more. “Umm. Yeah. I’m fine. What are you doing by my cabin in the middle of the night?”
“It’s going to rain. I was moving inside for a few hours.” He shrugs. “Besides, it’s not that late. It’s only eleven p.m.”
Looking at the sky behind his head, I see that thunderclouds are in fact gathering.
“I see.” For an awkward moment, I don't know what I’m supposed to do. Then I step back, waving a hand. “Want some company? I won’t bite.”
Grayson looks at me, hesitating for a heartbeat. Then he blows out a breath. “Yeah, sure.”
He wedges his large frame by me, careful not to touch me. He casts his gaze around the small space, shrugging and then sitting down in the exact space I was just occupying not two minutes ago. Blushing furiously, I sit beside him, refusing to think about what I was doing just a few minutes earlier.
I pull my legs up, sitting cross-legged. He lounges beside me, dwarfing me. I shoot him a humorless smile.
We need a nice neutral topic to discuss. Nothing sad and absolutely nothing racy.
“So… do you usually come inside whenever it rains?”
He nods. “Yep.”
Very helpful. “What got you started sleeping outside?”
He exhales. “I can’t stand to be inside for too long anymore. It makes me… I don’t know, itchy and anxious I guess.”
My brow furrows. “Really? You weren’t always like that.”
He scratches his chin. “It’s got to do with the war.”
“Oh.” I am not quite sure what to say to that, honestly. It feels strange, trying to pull these answers from him. I can feel Grayson’s gaze on me, looking at me critically. What he says takes my breath away.
“I missed you,” he says softly. I meet his gaze, surprised, but he just continues. “Out here, under all the stars, I thought about you all the time. I thought that it would go away eventually, the missing you. But it never did.”
He rasps the last bit. I look up at him, my eyes starting to fill with my tears. I want to scream at him. I want to beg him for answers.
Why, if he missed me so badly, did he keep his distance?
But I don't do any of that. Instead I just let my head drop.
What good will answers do me at this point?
He surprises me again by brushing some strands of my hair back behind my ear. When he speaks, it’s barely a whisper.
“I dreamed of you. Of your blonde hair. And your smile…” He moves his hand to touch the place where my jaw meets my neck. I suck in breath and stare into his eyes.
A smile plays across his lips for a second. “I’m sorry. You do know that, don't you?”
I push myself forward, kissing him fully on the mouth. He freezes for a second then cups my face, kissing me so tenderly that I could cry. His mouth tastes salty, just the way I know the rest of his skin would taste if I peeled away his clothes. His tongue pushes into my mouth, invading and possessing, taking what he wants.
But I want it too. My hands find his shirt, tugging on it. He drops one of his hands to my lower back, pulling me closer. I stretch my whole body and he covers it with his own, even though he is much too tall for the cot we are on.
I open my mouth more fully to him and hitch my legs up on his big body. He bucks against me, just once. I’m reminded of just how big his cock is when it is pressed between my thighs like that. With only our shorts on, it feels like there is nothing between us.
And yet, I want more. I know that he can give me an orgasm so good, it curls my toes and has me shouting his name. I yank at his shirt again and he pulls back to shed it.
Then he is on me again, kissing my neck. My hands have miles of bare skin to smooth over, finding the nooks and crannies on his hardened body echo the ones I remember. I find that he still has that incredible vee of muscle at his hips, pointing down below his dark shorts. His hand drops to my breast and I arch up into his touch with a gasp.
Yes. This is what I need. What I’ve needed since the first day I saw him in Whiskey Bend. I feel alive under his touch, in a way I haven’t felt in years.
It begins to rain outside, but even though the door to the cabin is still wide open, I hardly notice. I’m too busy inhaling him, drinking him in, taking Grayson any way I can get him.
I wriggle, needing my shirt gone. He’s only too willing to whip it off over my head. I’m not wearing anything underneath. He sees my tightened nipples and swears under his breath.
Grayson’s tongue and teeth find my nipple, his mouth hot as he kisses, licks, and bites my breast. I gasp again and arch my whole body against him, the movement fluid. His hardened cock almost touches my pussy and I bite my lower lip.
I need more.
He spends a minute kissing my breasts and feeling every inch of my bare skin. I am practically panting by the time he stands to take my sleep shorts off. I drink in the sight of him, shirtless, his eyes gone dark with arousal. I expect him to take off his own shorts, but he doesn’t.
He just kneels between my knees and kisses his way inward from my knee, torturing me. I shiver with anticipation, growing wetter by the second. He brushes his fingers along my core, dipping them inside me all too briefly.
“Please,” I whimper. I sit up partway, needing to see him. He smiles, suddenly cocky.
“Lay back, baby. Just enjoy.” He croons the words to me almost as if he is serenading me.
I forget what I was thinking a second later when his fingers part my pussy lips and his hot mouth lowers over my aching clit.
“Ohhh,” I cry, sinking back down. “Grayson… god, that feels good.”
He chuckles against me, which also feels amazing. Then he does figure of eights with his tongue against my clit. I’m already on the edge, I don't need him to hold back at all.
“I’m already close,” I whisper. Plunging my fingers into his short hair, I can feel myself moving closer to the peak. “Jesus, Gray. You are going to be the death of me.”
He closes his lips around my clit and sucks, gently at first and then more roughly. I hit my peak and then fall apart, calling his name as I come. He keeps working his magic tongue until I pull him away.
He reluctantly allows it, kissing his way up to my lips. I realize with a shiver of pleasure that I can taste myself on his tongue.
“On to bigger and better things,” I whisper, working my hand between our bodies.
I grab his cock, admiring how fucking huge it is, only to see an anguished expression overtake his face. He pulls away from my seeking fingers.
“I can’t.” There’s no real explanation other than that, but the look on his face is hangdog enough to make me want to know more.
“Why not?” I reach for his cock again, pouting.
Grayson pushes himself up off the cot, looking as tormented as I was earlier. His erection is obvious, so there is no problem there.
I start to lose my patience. “I’m sorry, but… what?”
He shoves his hand through his mess of dark hair. “I just… I just can’t. I think I should say goodnight, Rachel.”
Then he picks up his shirt and practically runs out into the rain. I feel gutted right now, totally bereft. I’m left pulling my shorts back on and wondering what exactly just happened.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Grayson
I barely sleep that night. Rachel’s scent and taste have soaked into every one of my senses. The little moans she couldn’t keep in as I was face-deep in her pussy, her legs splayed out before me, my hands under her ass. The entire time, my cock was so hard that I could barely think of anything else.
Leaving her cabin while the air still smelled like fresh sex was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And yet as I retreated to a shelter I made out of tarps, rain heavy on my face and body, I knew I was right.
I’m too weak to love her and let her go. Though every inch of me aches to be with her, to be deep inside her, I know that this is how it has to be.
I still know it, tossing and turning in my sleeping bag. Every single movement makes the tarps around me crinkle. I listen to the sound of the wind whistling through the tree branches and the trees creaking under the pressure of the raindrops. It almost reminds me of an angry voice, whispering the reasons I have made a terrible mistake. There are a thousand reasons why I can’t get involved with Rachel again. And yet here I am, having made a slip and touched her — tasted her — even though I know better.
Eventually I fall into a fitful half-sleep, dreaming of Rachel walking among the sand dunes. They are vaguely reminiscent of the ones I saw the day of the accident. She’s wearing a bright red sarong, the color catching in her normally brown eyes. She laughs and walks a few feet in front of me, glancing back seductively over her shoulder.
I can’t take my focus off of her for very long, but I am filled with this feeling of dread, knowing that just ahead there is danger. I try to tell her, but she doesn’t listen. She just laughs and takes me by the hand, pulling me along to what is cer
tain to be my death.
I wake up with every muscle in my body clenched tight. There is a pool of moisture underneath me, though how much of it is sweat and how much is leftover rainwater is impossible to tell.
At least the rain has vanished. The sunlight tells me that I’ve slept in a bit. Checking my watch, I see that it’s almost nine in the morning. I get up with a frown already on my lips.
Needless to say, I’m grumpy as fuck going into the morning. When I walk to the fire pit in the center of the camp site, I’m surprised to find a fire crackling. There is a pot of coffee bubbling away in the fire, too. Rachel comes out of the cabin where we keep the food, a couple of plates in hand.
When she spots me, she turns red. Lifting her chin, she walks over to me.
“Hey.”
I pause, exhaling. “Hey.”
“I made breakfast.” She sets down a plate of scrambled eggs and chicken sausages and a plate of hash browns.
I run my hands through my hair, scrubbing my scalp. “Listen, about last night—”
She looks up, a pinched and uncomfortable smile on her lips. “Forget it. I was just lonely. It won’t happen again.”
I scan her face, uncertain. But she seems to have moved on. My muscles loosen a bit.
“Alright.”
Rachel isn’t looking at me. She busies herself splitting the food between the two plates, handing me two thirds of everything. I trot over to the food storage cabin and return with two mugs, pouring the steaming coffee into them.
We sit at the table, eating in silence. The coffee that Rachel made is pretty weak, but I don’t say anything. At least the food is good.
“The hash browns turned out nice,” I comment.
She smiles briefly but doesn’t say anything. She’s still not meeting my gaze, either.
Now is the time for me to pull something good out of my hat. Something that is just for her, to show her that I still feel for her. I might not be able to act on it and I can’t seem to say it aloud, but I can show her. She just has to let me.
