by Lissa Linden
He stands and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah. I wanted to do something different. I mean, I had this vision of taking you to a great restaurant, sitting on a rooftop patio, but—”
“Paul?” He shoves his hands in his pockets and flicks his eyes to mine. I wrap my fingers around his upper arm. “This is perfect.”
He hands me a roasting stick and a package of hot dogs. “Then I’ll let you do the honors.”
I tear the plastic open with my teeth and slide the sausage onto the thin length of metal. Paul settles onto the log closest to the fire and leans his elbows on his knees. “Man that’s sexy.”
My cleavage is flattened and my hips are hidden in the flowing maxi-dress. I’m holding questionable meat products in one hand and a roasting stick in the other. “What’s sexy?”
He holds his hand out toward me and waves it up and down. “A woman who thinks roasting a hot dog over an open fire is a perfect date. You.” He drags his hand down his face. “I mean, Jesus, Amy.”
I turn to the fire and plunge the sausage into the flame. A smile tugs on the corner of my lips. “Come on, Paul. I just ripped into a package of hot dogs with my teeth. That’s not sexy.”
“One of these days, you’re going to believe the things I say to you.” His voice is soft under the crackles of burning wood.
I swallow hard and rotate my roasting stick. The hot dog turns black in the flame and I clasp a bun around the charred meat product. I pull it from the stick and add a disgusting amount of mustard, licking a splash from my hand without thinking. My face pulls tight as the vinegar hits my tongue.
“Here.” I hand the offensive concoction to Paul. “Just how you like it. Or, well, how you used to like it.” My cheeks warm with newfound doubt. “You don’t have to have this one. I just wanted to—”
Our fingers tangle and words become foreign. All I know is his fingers against mine. Our eyes lock and my mouth waters despite the remains of mustard on my tongue.
“I can’t believe you remembered how I like my hot dogs,” he says.
I swallow and run a finger under the corners of my mouth. “It’s hard to forget something so disgusting.”
He takes a bite of his dinner. “Mustard is the only condiment that matters.”
“Whoever taught you that had a sick sense of humor.”
“Nah,” he mumbles over his chewing. “Just German.”
I slip another hot dog onto the stick and keep it to the outskirts of the flames. “German?”
He pops the last of the bun into his mouth. “Yeah. My mom’s dad. He took care of me when my parents were working. Died when I was nine.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. He was old. Hell, my parents were old.”
My stomach clenches. “Were?”
“Yeah. They’re both gone. It’s just me now. Not like it wasn’t before, really.” He turns his back and takes a bun from the package. “How about your mom? Still breaking into Niagara-like tears when you go out of town?”
“Oh god. The first few minutes of that bus ride were always so embarrassing.” I watch the fire dancing in the darkening night. “But yeah. Not many tears over me anymore. She moved closer to my brother a few years ago. I see them on holidays.”
Paul uncaps the ketchup and adds the tiniest amount to the bun. “Did something happen?”
I swallow over the loss. Over the guilt. “Life happened.” My wrist rotates to adjust the heat on the roasting stick. “You never talked about your parents.”
He rummages in the cooler. “We weren’t close. Well, they were. To each other. I was the vacation souvenir they never intended to bring home.”
My head snaps to him. “They told you that?”
“Oh, yeah.” He spreads a thin layer of mayo on the bun. “It was never a secret. They did a pretty good job at making sure I didn’t cramp their style.”
I pull my sausage from the fire and Paul catches it in the bun. “Is that why you spent so much of your summer here?” I ask. “Because they…”
“Wanted to pretend they still had the child-free life they’d banked on?” He hands the hot dog to me. “Absolutely. But I was okay with it. People actually liked me up here.”
I back onto the nearest log and hold the perfectly dressed hot dog on my lap. The ratio of ketchup to mayo is exact. “I wish I’d known that.” I look up at Paul. The fire backlights his khakis and shines through his white dress shirt. I take a shaky breath. “If I’d known that, maybe I would have made sure you knew how much I liked you.”
Paul settles onto the log next to me. Our legs press together from hip to knee and a swarm of butterflies squirms inside me.
“I wouldn’t have wanted your pity like,” he says.
I hold up my dinner. “You remember how I like my hot dogs. When I learned how to paddle. Protected me from assholes. Trust me.” My fingers snake around his. “It wasn’t pity like.”
He wraps his arm around my back. His hand grips my hip and pulls me close. “And now? What is this now?”
My breath hitches and my thumb squishes through the bun. “What do you want it to be?”
Paul rubs his thumb over my hip. The jersey of my dress scratches against my skin. I take a deep breath and Paul pulls me closer, tucking me against his chest. “I want it to be everything.”
I stir against him. “What do you mean, everything?”
He brushes my hair back and rests his chin on my head. Our electricity crackles along with the fire. “Will you dance with me?”
I tilt my head up. Our noses nearly touch. Our breath becomes shared. “Here?”
Paul takes the untouched hot dog. He gently balances it on the log next to him. “I never did understand the mayo.”
My lips tilt upward. Because he packed this picnic with stuff he doesn’t even like. And he did it for me.
He reaches for my hands. Pulls me to my feet and wraps his hands around my hips. His fingertips brush over the top of my ass and I cup my shaking hands around his neck. Paul dips a hip and guides me with him.
My insides flutter with each slow turn our bodies take. A warmth starts in my chest and radiates through my limbs as my body sways in time with his. Our eyes meet and I close the space between us. He wraps his arms around me and I relax against his work-hardened frame.
Paul leans forward and hums. My stomach quivers with each note. With each puff of air carrying the song I’d dreamt of four years ago. But it’s never sounded as perfect as right now, wordless on Paul’s breath. My hips graze against his and a slow burning ignites in my core. “Why this song?”
“I don’t know.” He leans his forehead on mine. Our bodies move as one. “I guess it reminds me of, well…” He clears his throat.
I trace my fingertips up and down the back of his neck and inch closer with each sway of my hips. “Everything that could be?”
Our eyes lock in the moonlight. My chest tightens under his gaze. It coils into a spring that pushes me forward. That fits my lips between his in an unhurried kiss that heats between us, melting past into present. Melding the girl I was with the woman I’ve become.
My head falls onto his shoulder. My hands glide down his back. I could reach for his cock. Knead my palms over his ass. But I don’t want to. I want this. The gentle kiss and slow swaying that connects us. Draws me closer even while my body stays in place. And as his chest rises and falls beneath mine, it becomes harder to deny. Harder to pretend that this is about tabs and slots when neither of us reaches for anything more, but my stomach flutters anyway. Harder to stay in control when my core clenches at the beat of his pulse.
It’s a different kind of exhilaration. A kind that leaves me exposed. Sensitive. That makes his every touch thrilling. His very sound invigorating. My every cell bare and wanting him. Just him.
He relaxes his hands on my waist and takes a tiny step back, but it pulls against the grip I have on him. I press back into his reaction to me. To us. He sighs into my hair and my nerve endings wake under the soft caress of his bre
ath. My chest flutters and pounds against his as he holds me close. “Paul?” I breathe into his neck.
“Mmm?” He nuzzles against my cheek as our hips dip and sway. We turn in small circles, dancing to the beat of our own hearts.
“You.” I press my head to his shoulder. “I want you.”
Chapter Eighteen
She threads her fingers through my hair and nudges my head down. We stay glued together, chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis. Our kiss stays soft and slow, lips pressing and gliding as our bodies rock together.
“Amy,” I murmur against her. “When you say you want me…”
She ducks her head and nuzzles against my chin. “I want all of you, Paul. Your stubbornness. Your teasing. Your dick. All of you for all of me.”
I slide my tongue between her lips and swallow her sigh. Amy runs her tongue along mine, and shakes in my arms. My heart beats fast and I break the kiss. “Are you laughing?”
She presses her forehead to my chest and her soft laughter increases. “Sorry. I’ve just always hated mustard.”
“Oh crap.” I drop my hands from her hips.
Amy steps so close that I need to lean into her to keep from pitching backward. “It’s funny.” She clasps a hand on each side of my head and brings her mouth back to mine. “Right now, I kind of don’t mind it.”
“No?”
“Uh-uh.” She brushes her lips against mine. “It’s actually kind of…” She nips my jaw and draws a trail to my earlobe with her tongue.
I hiss in a breath. “It’s kind of what?”
“Kind of…” She sucks my earlobe into her mouth and releases it with a pop. “Hot,” she breathes.
I grip her jaw with one hand, her lower back with the other, and kiss her. She parts her mouth and I taste the underside of her lips, grazing against her sensitive skin until she runs the tip of her tongue along the length of mine. I plunge into her mouth and she opens to me. Our tongues wrestle and explore in a kiss that steals breath and gives life.
She grinds against the bulge I could no longer even attempt to hide and I groan into her mouth with a day’s worth of restrained desire. “Do that again.” My voice is raw. “Please.”
Amy drags her body back and forth over my hardness as I cup my hands around the curve of her ass and hold her to me. My eyes fall closed and I live in the sensation of her heat against mine. My cock strains toward her and her breathing reaches me, uneven and raspy. I hold her close and back up until my thighs hit the log.
I let Amy go for long enough to plant my ass on the seat and she stands before me, lips shining in the campfire light, cheeks flushed. Her hardened nipples press against the stretchy material of her dress. I swallow hard and hold out my hand. “Come here.”
She hitches her dress to her thighs and climbs onto my lap. Her legs hang over the back of the log and she clings to me, shifting her hips closer and closer to my straining zipper. She drops her head and moans into my neck when her core presses against my contained hardness.
I hold her in place and push her hair back, trailing kisses down her neck. “Feel that, Amy? It’s all for you. All of it.”
Amy looks into my eyes, her mouth slightly parted. She shakes as she guides my hand under the long skirt piled high up her thighs. She drags my fingertips from her knee to her core and cups my hand on top of her damp panties. She licks her lips and takes a shaky breath.
My thumb traces along the elastic of her panties, tickling her outer lips, and her eyes close. I press a kiss to her collarbone and drag a teasing finger over the center of her underwear. My hand circles to her ass and kneads her bare cheek, pulling her hard against me. “What do you want, Amy?”
Her eyes flutter open. “Everything you want to give me.”
I press my face into her neck and lick her from her shoulder to the top of her dress. My tongue slides over a hardened nipple begging for attention through the fabric, and she pushes the top down, baring her breasts in the moonlight. My lips circle the bud and I suck it deep into my mouth. Because I don’t know whether she means the same everything as me, or if she knows that she smells like trees and fire and tastes like dreams, but I’ll give her everything I have for as long as she’ll let me do it.
Her nipple springs from my mouth with a pop and I turn to its twin. I flatten my tongue and lick over the tightened bundle of nerves, flicking them with the tip of my tongue before doing it again, drawing out her moans, making her hips roll against me and soaking my khakis with her need.
Her fingers work between us and pry my button open. I loop an arm around her back and press her to me, burying myself in her breast, nipping and licking her tender flesh until her hand forgets what it’s doing and her nails dig into my side. Need rushes to my cock as I work my free hand back up her slick thigh. “Damn, Amy.”
She clasps my earlobe between her teeth and drags it through her teeth. Her fingers come back to life and tug at my zipper. My cock throbs with a surge of blood when it’s freed from its khaki prison, and she grips me through my boxers as I curl my palm around her pussy. My gaze finds hers and I press gently against the fabric stretched taut over her opening. Her fingers tighten in turn and the corner of her mouth turns up. I stroke along her seam and she palms over my bulging boxers.
With a quick tug, she frees my dripping cock and I push her panties aside. I work my fingers through her juice, tracing circles on her entrance, giving her clit an extra spin on each pass. “Paul,” she gasps.
“Yeah, Amy?” Her fingers tighten on my cock and she pushes her thumb through the dripping head. I groan into her shoulder and she works her fist to the base while my fingers keep tracing her opening, dipping a fingertip inside and teasing the sensitive nerves at her entrance. “Is this what you want?” I rasp. “My fingers?”
She pushes against my hand and sinks my finger inside her. My thumb presses against her clit and she writhes against it. “I want whatever you’ll give me.”
My dick pulses in her hand and pre-come drips over her fingers. Amy collects my lube under her palm and pumps fast, rolling her hips in time with her strokes, fucking my finger and rubbing her nub over my thumb. “What about my cock?” I swallow a groan and flick my thumb over her clit. “Would you like that?”
“Yes.” She uncurls her fingers and licks up my neck. “Hell yes.”
I pull a condom from my pocket and roll it on. Amy pushes herself up on my shoulders and I steady her with hands on her waist. She holds her skirt up and lowers herself onto my tip. Her breasts heave in my face and I capture her nipple in my mouth, sucking it hard. Her muscles give out, plunging my waiting cock into her warmth. I cry out against her skin and she wraps her hands around the back of my head, pulling me toward her.
Amy’s legs shake against my hips as she sits impaled on my throbbing flesh and I try to lick her nipple straight off her body. “Fuck, Paul. Oh god. I’m not even moving… I can’t…and I feel…”
I shift my hips and her head collapses onto my shoulder, her panting cools and heats my skin. I’m sheathed so deep, and so tight, that I can barely move. I jerk my hips again and hit her right where she needs it.
She gasps and arches her back. “Oh god.”
I wrap both arms around her ass and hold her clit to the root of my erection. She rolls her hips again and again while I rock against her. “I’m so deep,” I rasp against her chest. “So deep. And you feel so good.” She finds a foothold and bounces in my lap. “Oh god. So fucking good.”
She works herself against me, barely shifting her hips away before crashing back to rub her clit against my cock. Her breasts bounce and the slap of her flesh against mine drowns out the roar of the fire. She melts in my lap, soaking us in her need for me and us and this. She finds the pace she needs and she rolls her hips, panting my name into my ear. I dig my fingers into her ass when she slows, rocking her against me, coaxing her release. “Come for me, Amy.”
Her breathing catches. Her eyes roll back and her mouth opens wide. I hold her to me, shifting my w
eight over her clit as her thighs tighten around me and her whole body shakes. She moans her pleasure to the stars and comes apart, bucking and quivering in my lap. Her muscles tighten over and over, drawing me deeper and pulling my orgasm from deep in my balls. My release rockets from me, stealing my breath and pounding through my chest. I hold her close, pushing in as far as she can take me, shooting a lifetime’s worth of pleasure into her warmth.
Cheek to cheek, we rest our heads on each other’s shoulders as our breathing slows. I know she has to get up—that she has to move before we make an even bigger mess of our clothes, but this is the only place I want to be. It’s the only place I want her. Ever.
I close my eyes. “Amy?”
Her fingers draw lazy strokes over my back. “Yeah, Paul?”
“Everything,” I whisper in her ear. “I’ll give you everything.”
Chapter Nineteen
There’s no need for an alarm clock when you have birds. I’ll concede that it’s nicer than waking up to the screech of brakes or a symphony of sirens on emergency vehicles, but it would be nice if the forest was as tuned in to life as I used to think it was. Smart, kind birds would let me sleep in after the nap we grabbed when sheer exhaustion kept us from grabbing on to each other.
My lips creep into a smile and I roll onto my side. Paul’s hair is mussed. One of his hands is under my pillow on the master bed. His eyes flutter open. Blink. And he breaks into a grin. “Am I dreaming?”
I squirm closer and press my lips to his. “What do you think?”
He pulls me toward him, and I roll in his grip. He tucks the back of my naked body against his front. Sighs into my ear. “I’m waking up with an amazing woman in my bed and I didn’t even have to leave camp for it to happen.” He splays his fingers over my ribs. “This is definitely a dream.”
My mouth goes dry and I bite into my lip. “Is that why you’re leaving? So you can find a woman to wake up with?”
“Yeah.” His voice is slow with sleep.
A weight settles in my gut. Because this is a dream. His dream. The one he wants badly enough that he’d give up the job he’s always wanted just to get it. A dream that’s my nightmare. I swallow over the lump in my throat. “Technically,” I say, “I think this is my bed.”
