The Rivals - Dylan Allen Page 0,346

dessert for every meal. Indulgent. Expensive. Impossible to resist. “It’s a shame we’re not alone, hmmm?” I nudge his calf with my foot.

He scans the riverbank that the rest of our excursion party is spread out across. We’re a small group made up of other couples and we’ve all retreated to private, shaded spots to eat lunch.

“All I see is you.” He picks up another juicy slice of mango and lifts it to my lips but before I can bite it, he drags it down my chin, down my chest and draws it around my nipple through the dark green fabric of my bikini top.

And then his mouth follows the sweet, sticky trail with hot open-mouthed kisses. I clutch his head and sink my teeth into my lip, to muffle my moan of delight when his lips close over the throbbing tip of my breast.

The already aching peak swells, the heat of his mouth scorching even through the fabric. My core contracts in delicious anticipation.

But we’re not even close to being alone and now that we’re off the island and making our way back to Cabo San Lucas, real life doesn’t feel as far away as it did yesterday.

Reluctantly, I let go of his head, push at his divinely muscled shoulders and manage to snake out of his hold and scrabble backwards just in time to evade his lunge.

“Stone, stop, not here!” I try to wriggle out of his grasp, but he’s so strong and he pulls me into his lap. The urgent press of his arousal nestles against my backside. His lips brush my ear and I giggle.

“Promise you’ll sit on my lap on our way back, and I’ll let you go.” he draws and my shudder in anticipation.

“I promise,” I whisper and press a kiss to his temple and draw in a lungful of his delicious sweat, and fresh air scented skin before I climb off his lap and sit cross legged next to him. I cross my arms over my chest when his gaze drops to the wet spot over my nipple.

He straightens and mimics my pose. “Fine, let’s talk.”

I chuckle at the way he says talk like it’s an expletive. “Okay. So, you were telling me why Colombia,” I refresh his memory.

I’m impressed with, but not surprised by, my ability to refocus on the conversation when my body is still so distracted by aftershocks of his attention.

Stone stimulates the most erogenous zone on my entire body - my mind. And when he’s talking to me while he’s inside me, it’s like having a full body orgasm.

He takes his cues from me and leans away a little, his eyes darting the banks of the mangrove lined river.

“I went to med school thinking I was going to be a trauma surgeon. Then I had my rotation in obstetrics. My very first delivery made a believer out of me. Babies are the only people in hospitals who aren’t there because they’re sick.”

“Do you like kids?”

He frowns and looks skyward, as if he has to ponder the answer to that question.

“Ummm, that’s a pretty easy yes or no question,” I tease, but find my laugh constricted by the breath I’m holding.

His chuckles. “Yes, I do. They remind me that there’s hope for humanity. As long they keep coming into the world, we have a future. You know?”

“So, you want children one day?’ I ask, genuinely curious but acutely aware of the flutter of apprehension in my gut. I don’t know why his answer should matter to me. But it does.

“I don’t know…. From the time I was ten until I was twenty-two, every decision I made was based on what was best for my brothers. I was in medical school and too busy trying to survive that to do anything I wanted. Now that I’m finally living just for me, I can’t imagine going back to being responsible for getting little people to school, and doctor’s appointments, and all that shit.”

I feel so many things at once; Disappointment – because it’s another reminder of how discordant our pairing is. Admiration – that he not only survived an absent mother, but made sure his brothers did, too. But most strongly, I feel a sense of nostalgia.

“I used to not want kids,” I admit.

“I guess you got over that?” Stone says and I don’t begrudge him the teasing quirk of his lips. I often laugh at the irony of it myself.

“Getting pregnant kind of forced me too.” wince at how that sounds.