Waylaid (True North #8) - Sarina Bowen Page 0,80

gasps every time I thrust. More. Yes. Harder.

I move slowly, drawing out each shift of my hips. I’m sure I’ve never concentrated so hard on anything else before in my life. I don’t want to miss a moment of this bliss. Soft lips caress my own, and long fingers grip my shoulders as I move.

Daphne strains upward against me, needing more. But the ground is hard beneath us, and I don’t want to bruise her. So I hook my arms around her and roll onto my back.

She looks down at me a moment later, a little dazed. But she wastes no time bracing her hands on the earth and beginning to ride me.

Sweat is dripping off me now. Everything is sweet, sweet heaven. Her steamy gaze holds mine as she moves.

And even if I fall off three more walls—head first—there’s still no way I could ever forget this perfect moment.

“Rickkkk,” Daphne breathes. Her forehead creases with effort, and she bites her lip. And a new wave of lust rolls through me as I watch the storm gather behind her eyes.

“Have at it, baby,” I whisper, trailing my fingertips down her body. “Love watching you ride me.” Then I drop my hand to the place where we’re joined.

On a high-pitched gasp, she turns her face away from me, catching her bottom lip in her teeth.

“Christ, you’re beautiful. Eyes over here,” I rasp, as my balls tighten dangerously. I lift a hand to her chin and turn her head, begging her to look at me.

When she does, I get a glimpse of everything she hides from the world. Her expression is pure fire, and pure need.

And I’m done for. “Look out,” I say, clamping my jaw together to stave off my climax. But it doesn’t work. I break like a seawall in a hurricane. My hips slam upward and I groan as it slams through me.

“Oh yes. Oh—” Daphne gasps.

I roll my hips again, and she slides down onto my chest with a moan and a blissed-out shiver. I clamp my arms around her and hold on tight, unwilling to let go of her yet. And she flops her head onto my shoulder with a tired sigh. “Holy macaroni,” she mutters.

I look up at the darkening sky and smile like the crazy man that I am.

Thirty

Daphne

Wow.

Just wow.

I’m slumped onto Rickie’s body, feeling like I might never move again. But as my brain comes back online, a few important realizations are making themselves known to me.

1. That was mind-blowing. Seriously. I had no idea.

2. We’re still joined together, and his arms are braced around me.

2a. I like it. A lot.

3. I’m probably going to do it again. If I get the chance.

3a. I hope I get the chance.

Rickie lets out a low chuckle suddenly, and I wonder if I did or said something ridiculous in the throes of passion. So—with great difficulty—I pick up my head and look at him.

He’s grinning broadly.

“What?” I demand. I’m feeling the first twinges of a vulnerability hangover already.

He pushes the hair off of my sweaty face. “I’m just happy, that’s all. I’ll probably be smiling for a week.”

“Oh.” My face flushes with self-consciousness, and I lift my hips off his body, finally separating us. And he lets out a happy groan.

I scramble to my feet and walk back over to the swimming hole, where I jump right in. Even this feels ridiculously sensual. I haven’t ever been skinny-dipping before. I was always the kid who was too self-conscious to throw off my clothes and jump in with the others.

But I just had naked outdoor sex with my brother’s roommate. Now there’s something I never planned to do on my summer vacation. I guess I’m not the shy kid anymore. Go figure.

There’s a loud Rickie-sized splash beside me, and I try to wipe off the look of wonder I must be wearing on my face and play it cool.

But Rickie doesn’t give me the chance. He hauls me closer and kisses me, his wet skin seal-like against my own. “Damn, Shipley,” he says against my tongue. “We are totally coming back here. Probably tomorrow.”

“It’s supposed to rain tomorrow,” I say, because I never was cool. “Eighty percent chance.”

He doesn’t roll his eyes, or smile. He just looks at me with a serious expression, his gray eyes darkening in the fading light. “The hayloft then,” he whispers. And then he kisses me again.

I manage to play it cool when we drive up to the house in our bathing suits

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