“What could you possibly mean, Samuel?” I like being the one in control, the one reducing him to a quivering mess for a change.
Still, he doesn’t let me move. “Aside from the fact that I’m a guy, and I haven’t had sex in over a year, I’m pretty sure sleeping with you will set the rest of my skin on fire. So when you say I make you wet and climb onto my lap, acting like the fuckable pinup girl you are, I’m gonna lose my self-control unless I get you fully dressed.”
“What if I want you to?”
“To what?”
“Lose control.”
His erection thickens and heat spikes through me. “Jesus, are you serious? And don’t do this for me, not that I want to talk you out of it. But are you sure?”
When I nod, he doesn’t ask again. He grinds against me, our lips crashing in a desperate frenzy until I’m thoroughly kissed and out of breath. It’s freeing. Liberating. I never thought being naked in the open would make me feel anything but humiliated. But this. This is Nirvana. My own personal Shangri-La. Shangri-La that transforms into hell at breakneck speed when laughs and shouts from the bush have me locking my knees into his waist. My eyes are so wide they sting. “Holy crap. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap.”
He stares at my breasts and licks his lips. “Screw gymnophobia. I’m taking you to the tent.”
I stiffen. I can’t speak. He scoops me up as three travelers streak toward us in their birthday suits. He holds me against him, covering all the important bits, and carries me to our clothes and his pack. Barely wrapped in the towels he brought and juggling our stuff, we try to hurry to the tent, but we stop every few steps. We grope and kiss and laugh as we drop our clothes and clutch our towels. When I accidentally kick his shin, he winces…and laughs harder.
Perfect One-syllable Sam.
Before I know it, we’re in the tent. My boyfriend and me. He lays me down on the sleeping bags and unwraps my towel, spreading it wide below me. Normally, I’d be flailing about trying to cover up, but there’s something in those chocolate eyes that calms me. He stares unabashedly. Soaks me in. I’d swear there’s worship in his gaze. He inches forward until we’re chest to chest, all his hard lines and firm ridges pressed against the soft swells of my breasts.
He kisses me lightly and pulls back to study my face. “I’m dying to be inside of you. But if you want to wait, if you’re not ready, you just say the word.”
His concern melts me even more. “I’m ready, Sam. I trust you. I want you, too. I’m still nervous.” I swallow as I remember all the times he helped me face my fears, persistent yet patient. The way he guided me when I went down on him, easing my apprehension. “But I really, really want this.”
His forehead drops to mine. “Thank God. I meant what I said, but seriously—thank God.”
Shivers rack his body as I unknot the towel from his waist and toss it aside.
Instead of guiding himself to my center, he dips to my collarbone, sucking and biting. I arch into him as his lips drag down my skin. My lids flutter, my pulse ticks. His lips move over my breasts. “Remember my promise, Nina. You’ll be drenched before I’m done with you.”
“Please, Sam. Yes.” My belly clenches.
He strokes, kisses, and bites, all in perfect places, every inch of me lost in the sensations. Strong fingers caress my thighs as little nips trail toward my center. Heat shoots through me when he drops a kiss where I’m throbbing for him. His brown curls brush my thighs. With the first lick, I spasm. “God.” Like He can help me now. I’m clenching so tight my calves burn, and Sam doesn’t relent. That liquid fire he induces returns, consuming me. Lighting me up. I want this man. I’m still nervous as anything, but I can’t wait a second longer to feel him inside of me. I want to be his everything.
“Now,” I pant. “Please. I want you in me.”
His head snaps up, fire in his eyes. “Are you ready?”
“Yes. Sam, please.”
He pauses, still hovering over me. “I know you’re on the pill, and I’ve had enough blood work this past year to know I’m clean. If you want me to wear a condom, I will. But I want to feel all of you. Nothing