LOST WITH YOU - Lisa Ann Verge Page 0,42
time left did they have alone together? Two, maybe three days?
“I’d like to include Pops in the article.” Casey pressed her head above the hollow of his chest. “If you and he approve, that is.”
“Pops would love that.” He slid his hands down her sides, memorizing the indentation of her waist, the flare of hip. “To think crowds would be reading about his story. He’ll be over the moon.”
Water gurgled around their bodies. A breeze teased the tips of the pines. Sun sparkled on the ripples in the water.
She said, “We didn’t make love last night.”
Make love. Dangerous hopes stirred.
“I miss you,” she murmured, lifting her face.
I will miss you, too.
He loved her mouth, the full lower lip, the pillowy give of it against his. He savored the taste of coffee on her tongue. She didn’t rush through the kissing, like she usually did, hungry for deeper pleasures. She pulled back just once, her heavy-lidded gaze close. He kissed her again, grateful for her willingness to slow things down, to bank for this one instant the urge that drove them hard toward the oblivion of pleasure. He trailed a kiss down her jaw, then back to her mouth. He slid a hand down her back, making her arch until even the river couldn’t come between their pressed bodies anymore.
She made a sound deep in her throat—a little, wild sound—and he opened his eyes to watch her pupils constrict. He could spend hours observing her face, cataloging the emotions flickering across it, the flutter of her lashes as she succumbed to sensation, the playful lift of an eyebrow as she let her hand roam, the twitch at the side of her mouth that spoke of bated anticipation.
He shot a glance to the shore, to where his backpack lay, wishing he could teleport what he needed into his hand.
A finger on his jaw turned his attention back to her.
She said, “We don’t need that anymore.”
Was she talking about…? His cock tightened.
“You’ve been responsible, Dylan. I know you respect women. You’ve kept me safe.”
What women? Right now, he couldn’t remember being with any other woman, ever. He sure hadn’t been close enough to any other lover to ride bareback for a very long time. The thought of being inside Casey like that…
“I’m on birth control, so no worries.” She swayed in the water, the tips of her wet hair splayed around her shoulders. “I want to feel you inside me, Dylan. Skin to skin.”
He crouched to wrap his arms around her bottom and lift her. She slapped her hands on his shoulders for balance as he twirled her, scouting locations. Should he bring her to the riverbank, press her down in the grass? Should he brace her up against that stone ledge on the spit that curved into the water? It felt important to choose the right place for this moment. He was swiftly losing the mental capacity to pinpoint why.
The spit of land it was.
The sloping stone warmed his hand as he set her against it. Water surged up and around her hips as he slipped between her thighs. She raised her knees and hooked her ankles behind his back, buoyed by the river. Inches below the clear, clear water, he positioned himself to join her, his senses reeling as his cock kissed her cleft.
“Dylan…”
Her teeth dug into her bottom lip as her face flushed. The sun came out from behind the cloud, painting her nakedness. He slid into her all the way to the root. Where he stayed.
Just for a moment.
Wanting to be closer.
Flattening a hand on the wedge of stone, he pressed his forehead against hers as the swirl of his feelings slowed and crystalized on one undeniable truth.
He was in love with Casey Michaels.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Casey felt so light of body that she practically levitated from the bow of the canoe.
She and Dylan had spent the last two days tromping through the woods, returning to the Owl’s Head campsite in order to haul the canoe and gear across the wilderness to the new river network. Now, the portage complete and the canoe repacked, she paddled the vessel downriver with easy strokes and unworldly calm. Perhaps this peaceful feeling was an extended endorphin kick after all the gear-hauling exertion. Maybe it was a novel defense mechanism that protected her from the real risk she’d taken by spilling her guts to the man she was sleeping with. Whatever the reason, the buoyancy felt fragile…and good, right to the bone.
She lifted her face