though Izzy was mere inches away from me in the tent, she was wrapped up in her sleeping bag and facing the wall, snoring softly, the sleeping bag up to her nose, only a hint of strawberry blonde hair peeking out the top. Her bra lay in the corner of the tent, and her boots sat outside, but I saw no other clothes so I assumed she was sleeping in what she’d worn that day. I typically sleep naked, even when hiking. Weird, possibly, but I just sleep better that way and always have, with the exception of those firefighting missions; tonight, though, I decided to stay clothed, for Izzy’s sake.

I fell asleep thinking of Izzy. She was so defensive, so prickly, and so sarcastic. So quick to escape any situation that even remotely suggested intimacy, vulnerability, or romance. She’d opened up a few times about her past, and I’d been shocked—and honored—each time, but she’d immediately retreated afterward, and had taken a long time to warm up to me again.

I understood, though.

What was less clear to me was why it stung so hard every time she retreated from me, closed off, put up her walls. Why did I care? What was it I wanted from her? If one of my brothers or my cousins were to ask what I wanted from Izzy Styles, I’d have said to get her naked and fuck her a few times. I wouldn’t have said that I wanted to get to know her, that I wanted to understand what made her tick, that I craved nonsexual physical affection from her—her fingers trailing through my hair, her hand on my shoulder, back, neck, face; I wouldn’t have said how much I wanted her to like me for who I was. I’ve never given a shit about who likes me, who approves of me; as long as I’ve got Rem and Rome, nobody else counts for shit. They’re all I’ve ever needed, their approval and their—mostly unspoken but obvious—love. Girls are for a good time, for fun, for sex, but that’s it.

Yet deep down, beneath the part of me willing to admit such things out loud, or to even acknowledge them to myself, I wanted all that with and from Izzy.

I shouldn’t.

She’s as committed to one-and-done liaisons as I am. Love is as nonexistent, as taboo, as anathema to her as it always has been to me.

Romance? No thanks.

Intimacy? If you mean, naked and inside a sexy woman, then yes.

Vulnerability? Bitch, please.

Yet, every minute I spend around Izzy makes that shit sound almost appealing.

Eventually, sleep pulled me under, and as I almost always do, I slept like a dead person. I woke up before dawn to the sounds of birds singing, the creek rushing in the distance, wind sighing through the trees. Sunlight glowed at an angle through the canopy, shedding long wavering shadows on the tent wall over my head. Beside me, Izzy was in the same position she’d been when I entered the tent: on her right side, facing the tent wall, sleeping bag pulled up to her nose, hair askew and escaping the braid in wisps of strawberry blonde splayed across the pillow and tent floor. She was snoring, too, an adorable little snurk-sniff that made my gut do weird twists and flops.

I crept out of the tent as quietly as I could, re-zipping it behind me. I was barefoot, and the ground outside the tent was cold and wet with predawn dew. I spent a few minutes rebuilding the fire. I’d made sure the coals were nice and hot, and had banked it the night before, so it was a breeze getting it going again. Once it was crackling, I dug out my pot, a change of clothes, and a bar of soap, and headed for the river. I filled the pot with cold, clear creek water and returned to the campsite, where I hung it over the flames to heat up. The tent was quiet, so I assumed Izzy was still asleep. I headed back to the river and shucked my clothes on the bank. Standing naked in the cool gray-pink dawn, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the moment, breathing in the air and letting the peacefulness of the morning soak into my bones.

And then, with a deep breath, I plunged into the bitterly cold creek. I dunked under and came up spluttering. Gahhh, it was so cold! Invigorating, bracing. I splashed around a minute or two, and then snagged my bar of soap off the bank and scrubbed myself clean from head to toe, working a lather into my hair and beard last of all, dunking under once more to rinse off. When I rose, spluttering and gasping again, ready to get out of the water, Izzy was standing on the bank, looking sleepily gorgeous, and bemused.

“Isn’t that water freezing?” she asked, rubbing her face with both hands.

I grinned. “Sure is! Best way to wake up, though.”

She shook her head. “You’re nuts.”

I shrugged. “I mean, yeah. But it’s good for you. Jump in!”

“I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”

“I’ll wait.”

“You’ll just wait in the freezing cold creek?” she asked, her voice skeptical.

“Yep. I’m used to it by now. Mostly.”

She blinked at me. “You really want me to go in there?”

“Were you planning on not bathing the entire trip?”

“I…” She hesitated. “I hadn’t considered that.”

“Go grab a change of clothes,” I said.

She huffed, but turned and shambled back to the campsite. I slid under the water again, because it was warmer to stay fully submerged; I let the current carry me downstream a ways, and then swam back upstream to where Izzy was standing at the creek’s edge, a pile of clothing on the ground near mine. She was clearly hesitating, whether about stripping in front of me or getting into the water, I wasn’t sure. Both, probably.

“Should I avert my eyes?” I asked. “Or are you working up the courage to jump in fully clothed?”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Oh, shut up.”

I grinned as I swam closer. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess you’ve never gone skinny-dipping?”

She rolled her eyes, but her grin was embarrassed. “Not all of us are exhibitionists, Ram.”

“Exhibitionist? There’s literally zero people for miles in any direction, except you. Not like this is a public pool, babe.”

She bit her lip. “I’m not gonna get hypothermia, am I?”

“I’ve been in for like five minutes, Izz. Does it seem like I’m hypothermic?” I arched an eyebrow. “Take off your clothes and get in. Don’t overthink it, don’t ease in, just strip naked and plunge in.”

“Fine,” she huffed.

I watched, not bothering to hide the fact that I was staring with arousal and interest, as she peeled her shirt off and then her jeans, standing on the bank in just a pair of cotton underwear. She sucked in a breath; her eyes locked on me, and then shimmied out of those too. Even with the iciness of the water, the sight of Isadora totally nude was enough to make me hard as a rock.

She stood on the bank of the creek, heavy breasts swaying as she reached up to work her hair out of the braid, dawn sunlight bathing her golden-pink-orange, making her already perfect skin glow as if she were an actual, literal angel from heaven above. I swear, that vision of Izzy naked on the banks of the creek will be seared into the very fabric of my soul forever.

Her hair blew loose around her shoulders, and she clutched her breasts in her arms as she touched the water with a toe. “Holy hell, it’s cold!”

I laughed. “I told you—just plunge in. It’s the only way. If you try to ease in, you’ll never do it.”

She drew a deep breath, held it, and then with a screech she flopped forward into the water, gloriously awkward. She came up spluttering, gasping, too shocked to make a sound. Her hair was pasted against her face and shoulders, and she seemed paralyzed.

But only for a moment.

“Oh hell, n-n-n-no,” she chattered, lurching for the bank. “F-f-fuck th-th-this! I’m out!”

I wrapped an arm around her middle and hauled her out into the deepest part of the creek, laughing as she struggled. I pulled us both under, and then rose to the surface, not letting go of her, who was thrashing like mad.

When we crested the surface, both gasping and laughing and sputtering, she twisted in my grasp. “You’re an asshole,” she hissed.

I used two fingers to brush her wet hair out of her face. “Yep. But now you’re getting used to it, aren’t you?”

We were crouching in the river, the water around our shoulders. I found a nearby rock, slick with moss, and sat down on it, pulling Izzy with me. It was utterly natural for her to slide toward me, to straddle me as I sat on the rock chest deep in water. She wrapped her thighs around my waist, straddling me chest to chest.

My erection throbbed between us.

“How can you have an erection in this cold-ass water?” she murmured.

I smirked, shrugging. “You. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, so fuckin’ sexy, all I gotta do is fuckin’ look at you and I get a hard-on. You, naked on the bank of the creek? Izzy, babe—I swear to Christ that’s a vision I’ll never forget for as long as I fuckin’ live.”

She visibly melted at my words. “Ram—” she breathed, choking. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Tell you the damn truth?”

“We don’t work out, you and me. Stop being so amazing so I can use you for your cock and move on.”

I grinned. “Seems like I’m the one using you for your pussy more than you’re using me for my cock. You ain’t touched it since the hospital room.”

“Whatever. The point is—”

“I know what the goddamn point is,” I snarled. “You want me to just be the shallow, arrogant, mouth-breathing caveman fuckboy so you don’t have to admit you like me.” I took the bar of soap and rubbed it between her breasts and then over them in slow circles. “Sorry, babe—I can’t help but be who I am, and I ain’t gonna hold back telling you what I think just because it ruins your plans of remaining uninvolved and objective. I lost any chance of staying objective about you and me the moment I agreed to let you go hiking with me. This, out here? This is my world. My place. Not to put too fine a point on it, but it’s fuckin’ sacred to me, okay? And I’m sharing it with you. That ain’t no small thing, babe.”

She didn’t answer, but she also didn’t stop me from using the soap to scrub her pale, freckled skin. I worked a thick lather into my hands, pressed the bar of soap into her hands, and then massaged her scalp. Taking the soap from her, I scrubbed her hair against the bar until it was thickly lathered and then worked the lather from scalp down to the ends.

“Ready?” I murmured. “Time to rinse.”

“No—no, no-no-no!” she protested.

I toppled us backward, and she kicked away, rubbing her hands in her hair to rinse the soap out. I caught up to her as she found her feet, coming up behind her to rub the soap over her belly beneath her breasts, then downward and downward—she took the soap from me and used it to clean her pussy, then let me take it back. I ran the soap over her back and her buttocks, and then in between the cheeks, making her gasp in surprise as I slid soapy hands over her rear entrance and further inward.

“Ohhhhhhhhmygod, Ram…” she breathed. “I was not expecting that.”

I chuckled, scrubbing her thighs and around back up to her belly, this time abandoning the pretense of the soap, using my empty, soap-slick hand to caress her breasts. “Gotta get you clean.”

“I’m clean, I’m clean,” she mumbled. She twisted to face me, taking the soap from me.

“I already washed,” I said.

“You missed a spot,” she whispered. We were standing near the bank, the water rushing around our hips.

“I did, huh?” I said, resting my hands on her waist. “Well…better get it for me.”

She scrubbed up a lather and then tossed the soap onto the bank near our piles of clothing. Her eyes flicked to mine, desire and need obvious in every part of her expression. I couldn’t help but catch my breath as her gaze slid down to my cock, which stood upright, rigid, the tip swaying at my belly button as I breathed. She wrapped one soapy hand around me, and the other.

“Ohhhh fuck,” I breathed, closing my eyes briefly.

She laughed lightly. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Don’t have to,” I mumbled, resting my forehead against the top of her head. “Dreamed and fantasized about pretty much exactly this for the last fuckin’ year.”

“You have?”

I pulled back to look into her eyes. “Damn right, babe.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Wanna know a secret?”

She stroked me, then, nodding. “Yes, please.”

“Every single motherfuckin’ time I jacked off, I was thinking about you, Izz. Your mouth on my cock, the taste of your pussy, the way you screamed as you came. I tried to imagine you naked but, god’s honest truth, not even my wildest fantasies could even remotely come close to how perfect you are in real life.”

I heard her breath catch, felt her hand tighten around me. “God, Ram. You say shit like that, and I…”

“You what, Izzy?”

She rolled a shoulder in a lame attempt at a shrug, and then shook her head. “I just…I can’t help…”

Her hands slid up and down my shaft, one atop the other, and then she stroked me hand over hand, and then paused to rub the tip with her thumb.

“Spit it out, babe. Truth, and no bullshit.”

“You say things like that, and I can’t help almost believing you.”

“Believe it, honey. It’s just the truth.”

“I masturbated thinking about you too,” she whispered, her voice so low I could barely hear her over the chuckling burble of the creek.

My gut was tightening, her slow gentle touch making me crazy. I watched her hands play with me, never using the exact same stroke more than a few times in a row—she was playing with me for herself, I realized. Not to make me come but for her own enjoyment of my cock.

“What did you think about when you touched yourself?” I asked.

She shrugged a shoulder. “A lot of things.”

“Like what?”

Her smile was aroused and embarrassed at the same time. “I…um. There were a few different…scenarios, I guess you could call them. Us kissing, touching, messing around. And then you’d…um, you’d spin me around, bend me over something—it varied every time, a bed, a kitchen counter, a car—and you’d…you’d fuck me until I screamed. Or you’d just do what you did in the woods…touch me, lick me, make me come with nothing but your hands and mouth. Or you’d ride my face, and then I’d go down on you, but you’d always insist on fucking me instead of coming in my mouth.”

I growled wordlessly. “Fucking hell, Izzy.”

“What? You asked.” She eyed me. “What did you think about?”

“This. Being out in nature together, naked. Fucking on the river bank. In the tent. On the ground under the sun.” I shrugged. “I’d think about you showing up somewhere random, unexpected, and sucking me off, or instead of sucking me off, we’d fuck. In the office of the bar, or in the living room at the apartment, or at yours, or in a parking garage.

She snickered. “A parking garage?”

“Just somewhere public. Masturbation fantasies don’t always make sense.”

“Yes, that’s true, they don’t.”

She had me gritting my teeth, resisting the urge to flex into her touch. She was taking her time, that was for damn sure. I couldn’t help a groan as she used both hands to stroke me up and down slowly.

She bit her lip, shivering. “I’m fucking freezing.”

I leaned close, as if I was going to kiss her, and then, at the last second, I licked her nose. “Race you back to the tent!”

I scrambled out of the water and snatched up our dirty clothes and the soap, taking off running for the campsite. I glanced behind me, laughing, to see Izzy close behind, our clean clothes in her arms, chasing me.

She’d left the tent partly unzipped, for which I was glad. I’d already gotten mostly dry on the sprint from creek to camp, so I dropped our dirty clothes on the ground near our packs and dove through the opening into the tent. Izzy was a heartbeat behind me, but she brought our clothes into the tent.

“I won,” I breathed, laughing.

She hesitated in the opening of the tent, just looking at me. “Yes, you did.”

I gestured at her to come in. “I won’t bite,” I said. “Unless you want me to.”

She stared at me, biting her lower lip. “Ram, I…”

I sighed. “Izzy, this thing between us isn’t going away.”

“I know.”

“So either dive into it with me and see where it goes, or quit playin’.”

“See where it goes?”

I nodded. “It won’t be just a quick fuck, Izz— you gotta know that. This ain’t the kinda thing where we’re gonna be able to fuck once or twice and get it out of our system. It’s more than that. So, as much as I desperately want you to climb in here with me and finish what you just started, I ain’t gonna lie about the fact that I like you. A lot. And in a way I’ve never liked anyone. It is what it is, and I want you, and I ain’t gonna lie or apologize or make excuses. I’m no more comfortable with this kinda thing than you are. But I got balls enough to admit I’d like to feel it out.”

She backed out of the tent.

I sighed again. “Got it.”

She reached in and touched my foot. “No, no. I’m just—I’m getting something from my bag.”

“Oh.”

“So just…just wait a second, okay?”

I laughed. “I’ll wait as long as you want.”

I watched through the opening as she crouched by her pack, dug in where she kept her clothes, and came out with something clutched in both hands. She kept whatever it was hidden in her hands as she crouched into the tent. I reached past her and zipped it closed as she turned to sit facing me on her sleeping bag.

“What’cha got there, babe?”

She tossed several strips of condoms on the sleeping bag at my feet. “That.”

“You brought them?”

She nodded. “It was Kitty and Juneau’s idea. Just in case.”

“Just in case?”

She smirked. “I didn’t want to bring them, I guess because I knew if I brought them, I’d end up using them with you. But I think what Kitty and Juneau knew was that we’d use them anyway, and it was better to have them.”

I grinned. “I brought some too. Not that many, though.”

She eyed me, her gaze roaming from my face to my shoulders, down my body to my cock, which was still hard—despite the lack of attention and the cold. I just waited; I wanted to see what she would do, what she wanted, where she would take this.

She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. “Fucking cold.”

I unzipped my sleeping bag all the way, and then hers, laid hers on top of mine, and zipped them together into one large sleeping bag. Climbing in, I grinned up at her. “Coming?”

“Not yet, but you’re about to,” she muttered as she slid in beside me.

I reached for her, but she shook her head. “Ah-ah. This one is all me, big guy.”

I tucked my hands under my head and gave a small shrug, grinning widely. “Have your way with me, then.”

She rested her cheek on my chest, gazing up at me as she let her hand roam down my abdomen, teasing and dancing over the grooves of muscle toward my cock, which began to harden to a painful ache as she neared it. She grasped it lightly in one fist and lazily stroked it from root to tip several times, her touch a warm soft glide.

“I have two questions for you,” Izzy said, rubbing the very tip of me with her thumb. “For…practical purposes.”

“Okay?”

“First, are you clean? Like, have you been tested recently?”

“Yes.”

“Good, me too.” She gnawed on her lower lip, hesitating. “And second…um. How’s your refractory period?”

I smirked at this question. “Well, it tends to vary. But with you, I’d guess pretty goddamn short.” I reached out and caressed her breast. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I want to do…well, everything with you. And I need to know how long it’ll take you to get hard again so I know where to start.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “It’s like being at an all-you-can-eat buffet, huh? Don’t know where to start?”

“Precisely.”

I twiddled her nipple until she wriggled and her breath caught. “Put it this way, babe—you make me come, I’ll be ready to go by the time I’ve given you your first orgasm.”

Her eyes widened, a grin spreading across her face. “Good answer.”

“So, Izz…where are you gonna…” I trailed off as she slithered under the sleeping bag. “Oh.”

She grasped me in both hands, and then I felt her wet warm mouth on me.

“Ohhhhh,” I murmured. “Okay.”

I hadn’t been expecting it the last time she did this, and it was no less shocking in its intensity this time. I gasped as she plunged her mouth around me, hands gliding slowly up and down around my base.

“Ohhh fuck, Izz,” I groaned. “So fucking good.”

She didn’t reply—at least not verbally. She did redouble her efforts, as if her singular focus was to see how fast she could make me come. Or how hard. Or, more likely, both—how hard could she make me come in the shortest amount of time possible.

I didn’t fight it, didn’t try to hold back. It was futile, for one thing, and I had no interest in playing games. At least, not this time around.

She felt me beginning to thrust against her mouth, and slowed the strokes of her hand, letting me fall out of her mouth. I lifted the sleeping bag and grinned down at her.

“Okay down there?”

She smiled, an eager, pleased little grin. “Excuse me, I’m busy, here,” she sassed, grabbing the fabric and yanking it back down.

I laughed, and the laugh turned into a moan as she cupped my balls in one hand, tilted my cock away from my body with the other, and slid me into her mouth once more. This time, she wasn’t just trying to stimulate me, she was…I don’t even know. Taking it to a whole ’nother level, you might say. I felt her mouth around my glans, and then past it, and then she tilted me farther away and I heard her make a soft sound in her throat as she took more and more of me.

“Izzy, you don’t have to—” She gave me a soft but sharp warning nip. “Okay, okay. Shutting up.”

I was rewarded for correctly interpreting her meaning with a swirl of her tongue that had my eyes rolling into the back of my head and my hips flexing, an involuntary groan escaping. God, she had so much of me, I couldn’t believe it. The sensation was divine, gloriously erotic. My brain was shorting out, my lungs empty. The center of my entire existence was Izzy’s mouth on my cock, the swirl of her tongue and the slow wet suction and the sucking slide as she pulled back, the gentle cradling massage of her palm around my sac, the slow sweep of her fist down my shaft; her strategy wasn’t hard and fast, but rather slow and intense. And holy fuck was it working. I wanted to gasp, needed to groan, but I had no breath in my lungs for either. My spine arched, and then my hips flexed to push upward, and I heard Izzy gasp for breath, swallowing hard, and then her lips suctioned around me again and rippled downward.

“Ohh fuck—” I grated through gritted teeth, sucking in a breath of cool oxygen. “Izzy, fuck—Izzy—”

Finally, she sped up—something about the ragged way I’d gasped her name had created urgency. I couldn’t stop my hips from moving, from thrusting. Izzy didn’t seem to mind—in fact, she pulled at me, encouraging me.

I gave her what she wanted—more. She was sucking and gulping greedily, stroking me faster and faster, and I was groaning nonstop, nonverbal grunts, curses, and whispers of her name. Again and again, as I felt myself rising to the edge.

I was moments from reaching climax when I remembered her fantasy—her doing this, and then me stopping to take her.

I pulled away just in time, scrambling out from underneath her—she protested, squeaking in surprise and then rustling under the sleeping bag and burrowing up toward the light. I ripped a condom off the strip, clenched the packet in my teeth and ripped it open, tugging the circle of latex out and rolling it on as Izzy crawled out from under the sleeping bag, blinking and looking pissed.

“What the fuck, Ram? I wanted—”

I cut her off, grabbing her around the waist and yanking her to me. I was sitting on my shins, and I hauled her onto my thighs, pulling her up against me.

“Ram—”

I kissed her. Hard, and thorough. Tongue delving into her mouth, slashing against her lips and teeth, demanding her tongue in return. She gasped, and then groaned, her hands tangling in my hair and pulling me closer, her mouth softening and opening, her warm, silk-soft body pressing up against mine. Her breasts crushed against my chest, and she had to pause to catch her breath.

“Jesus, Ram—”

I grinned, and then tipped forward so she landed on her back on top of the sleeping bags. “Get on your hands and knees, Izz.”

“I—”

“Hands and knees,” I repeated.

Her grin was eager and hungry and desperate as she moved to comply, going to her hands and knees, facing away from me, looking at me over her shoulder.

And holy mother of fucks, that beautiful round ass of hers all spread out for me? I throbbed, ached—I’d been a split-second from coming when I pulled away from her.

I slid two fingers between her thighs and found her slit, hot and wet and slick. I met her fingers—she was reaching back for me, and I angled my cock toward her; she grasped me, guided me to her entrance.

Her eyes met mine over her shoulder. “Ram?”

“You know how long I’ve waited for this, Izz?” I whispered.

“About as long as I have,” she answered.

The head of my cock was nestled just barely inside her slit, a wicked, delicious, diabolical tease. She smiled back at me, bit her lip, and then drove her ass back against me, delving me inside her wild wet warmth.

I slid inside her, and in that moment, buried deep inside Isadora Styles, her soft ass pressed against my hips, her smile bright, her eyes wanting me, her whole body trembling as I filled her, I knew…

I was the one fucked.

I knew, in that moment, I would never, ever, for as long I live ever want another woman the way I wanted, needed, craved, and desired her.