Later that night, after they'd had their fill of mouthwatering chili and cornbread, Zayne brought out a handful of long, metal skewers and a box filled with marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate bars.

"What's that for?" Sam asked curiously.

Stone, who was sitting beside her, arm around her shoulders, leaned away to look at her incredulously.

"You're joking, right?"

"What do you mean? Why would I joke?” She asked defensively. "What am I missing?"

He laughed and stood up. "Zayne, hand me a few of those, please."

"These," he said slowly, sitting next to her again with his handful of goodies. "Are the makings of the best reason to ever have a campfire."

She looked at him expectantly and he continued.

"You take a marshmallow,” He held a plump puff of sugar and air for her inspection. “And you put it on the skewer like this." He pushed the skewer into the middle of the marshmallow until the tip of it had gone through to the other side.

"Then," He kept going. “You hold it close to the fire, but not too close, and rotate until it browns." Stone spun the skewer, toasting the marshmallow like you would a rotisserie chicken.

Sam was mesmerized. The fluffy white started to turn brown and crisp. Her mouth watered. Just when it started to get soft and droop a little, Stone pulled it back and took a piece of graham cracker from his pile.

"Put a piece of the chocolate bar on the graham." He instructed her.

Sam broke off a chunk of chocolate and placed it on the cracker Stone was holding.

"Now," He said as he placed the roasted marshmallow on top of the chocolate. “Put the other half of the cracker on top of the marshmallow."

She did as he said and watched while he squeezed the entire concoction together and pulled the skewer from it. The warmth of the marshmallow was melting the chocolate and it was all she could do to keep from licking her lips with shameless desire.

"Here." Stone smiled and handed it to her.

Sam reminded herself to have some decorum and didn't snatch the delectable sweet like she wanted to. Instead, she took it from him with a polite, if eager thank you, and bit into it.

"Ohmygoosh"

Samantha groaned as she chewed her first bite of a s'more and her eyes closed on a deep sigh. Watching someone eat had never made Stone hard before, but he had to shift to relieve his discomfort as the woman beside him continued to moan and groan and sigh in deep satisfaction with every bite she took. After what felt like an eternity, she finished licking her fingers, and looked up at him, grinning like a kid, chocolate and marshmallow stuck in her teeth, not caring one little bit. Her eyes were sparkling with pleasure, and he couldn't help but laugh when she asked almost breathlessly, "Can we make another one?"

"Sweetness,” He answered. “We can make as many as you want." Because if she was going to eat them just like that, he was going to enjoy this campfire experience more than he'd anticipated.

"Sam!" Alex laughed from the other side of the fire. “I can't believe you've never had a s'more!"

"I grew up in New York." Sam defended. “I never had reason to know what a s'more was. I'll tell you one thing though,” She paused to take a bite of the second one Stone had made for her. "I'm giving Carla an earful for not telling me about this. All the years she's been coming here, and not once has she felt our friendship was important enough to tell me why graham crackers were really invented?"

Everyone laughed while she finished the second s'more, but declined another.

Stone leaned into her, loving the shiver that ran through her when he whispered against her ear, "You about ready to call it a night, Sweetness?"

He watched her lips quirk ever-so-slightly, smiled himself when her reply was a breathless, “Yeah".

He'd been ready from the moment she took that first bite of gooey sweetness. Watching her abandon herself to the pleasure of a new experience had him working hard to stay seated. All he'd wanted to do was throw her over his shoulder and carry her off to claim her.

* * *

"If I had marshmallow cream," He mused when they were secure in his tent. "I would wipe it,” He kissed her neck, pulled her body flush with his. "All,” He slipped a hand up her shirt, palmed her breast. "Over,” He grabbed her backside with his other hand and squeezed. "Your body." He kissed across her jaw, one hand firmly holding her bottom, the other teasing her aching nipple through the lace of her bra. "Good god, Sam.” He groaned. “I love that you wear lace out here.”

"I would smear it on you here,” He continued, pushing her shirt up, tracing the swell of her breast with his finger. He pushed her shirt all the way over her head and let it drop to the floor. "Then I'd lick it off. Like this,” He gave the area his finger had just abandoned a slow lave with his tongue, smiling when she arched into him, and let a tiny moan escape her lips. "I’d make a trail," He continued on his path, running his hand down her ribs, down her belly, under the waistband of her jeans. "All the way down this delicious body." With practiced ease, he popped the button on her jeans and slid the zipper down, reaching his hands around to hold onto her as he knelt in front of her.

"I'd put it here." He trailed his fingers across the curve of her hip, meeting just above her panty line. He loved the way her breath hitched. How she swayed into his touch, so hungry for more. He pushed her jeans all the way down her legs and realized he'd made an error in strategy, as her boots were still on, bringing a halt to the smooth moves he'd been making.

No worries, improvisation was a specialty of his. He ran a hand up the back of her thigh, caressing her lightly, hearing the sharp intake of breath as he let his fingers drift across her panties. Close. So close, but not quite where she wanted him to be.

"Stone.” She gasped. "You're making me crazy."

"Mm." He murmured. Bringing her leg up, pulling off one boot then doing the same to the other. “I love making you a little crazy. Love to hear you beg for it. Love to know I’m probably the only one who's ever heard Samantha beg for anything.”

She stiffened and her eyes flew open. He'd said the wrong thing, gone too far.

"I'm sorry Sweetness." He whispered remorsefully. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

"Please,” She responded, her gaze intent on his. "Please don't stop. I love the way you talk to me. Just… Just maybe leave out the part about begging.”

She laced her fingers through his hair and he closed his eyes at the sensuous feel of it.

"Please,” She coaxed. “Keep going... Keep telling me."

He reached for her leg again, humbled at the trust she showed by allowing him these privileges. She may not have thought of it that way, but Stone knew what it meant to her, to let someone have access. Samantha Covington never let people see her, but she was letting him. He pulled her jeans off then, lifted her foot, pulled off the sock, and stopped cold.

"Sam..." He whispered, closing his eyes, swallowing hard. He’d taken her socks off before. Why hadn’t he noticed this?

"Don't.” She said firmly, pulling her foot away. “I told you not to ask. So Don't."

"Sam."

He pulled her against himself, still on his knees, with her standing in front of him, waiting. He had to get this right because he knew what he'd seen. He'd seen it on the feet of men who'd been captured overseas, tortured. The sole of the foot was one of the most sensitive parts on a body. To whip it until it left the kinds of scars he'd just seen would be excruciating.

"I'm so sorry, Samantha." He rested his head against her stomach, held her as tightly as he dared. "If he wasn't already dead, I’d kill him myself." Because Stone was sure it was her father who'd done it to her. How someone could treat a child in such a way was beyond his imagination.

He felt her take a deep breath and stood. Stone looked down at her, stroked the hair out of her face, and watched her blink back the tears he knew were so close.

“I can't.” She whispered, shaking her head slowly. “I can't. Because if I start, I'll break. I don't know what happens after that. I don't know what I become once I say it to you... I don't know what you become. If I say it out loud."

"I'll tell you what I become, Sweetheart." He said slowly, purposefully, cupping her face with both his hands.

“I become the man who holds you and loves you and still thinks that you're the best thing to come into his life in a long time, maybe ever. I become the man you need. I become the man who'll do anything in this world for you. I become the man I already am. Because," He tilted her chin up so he could look her in the eye. "I'm already all those things, and when you're ready, Sam. When you're ready, you can tell me. You can tell me, and I'll still be the man who loves you."

He hadn't meant to say it, but there it was. He wouldn't take it back and he wouldn't apologize. "You don't have to say anything you're not ready to say. Just tell me what you need from me. What do you need right now, Love?”

"Make me forget.” She whispered, closing her eyes.

So he did his best to do just that. He gave her everything he had and hoped it was enough. He worshipped her body, taking her as high as he could, then brought her floating back to earth. He allowed himself his own release only when she begged it of him. Even then, it was a difficult thing. He wasn't sure how all this would play out, but he knew he loved her, needed her like he needed air. The thought that plagued his mind, was the one that said she might never allow herself to admit she felt the same. His heart ached at the thought that Samantha would walk away because she just couldn't do it. She thought she was broken, he knew, but she was so brave, so strong in other areas of her life. Stone closed his eyes, held her tightly against himself, and prayed that she would be brave with her heart too.