They barely made it back to the cabin before they were kicking their shoes off. Willa couldn’t wait to get her stupid Slimer costume off. It was surprisingly hot—probably because papier-mâché wasn’t exactly breathable—and plus it was starting to chafe under her arms, which was unpleasant.

Her competitive pride was somewhat bruised by her loss, but excitement was curling low in her belly. Van had bested her, which meant, until the sun came up, she was Van’s to do with what she pleased. Which was at once unnerving and also ridiculously sexy. She’d never been much for the bedroom games she heard other people talk about. While she’d like to claim it wasn’t the result of her being a control freak, on some level that was it. She’d never found someone who she trusted enough to hand over any sort of control. But Van…

The door to the cabin slammed closed, and then there were hands tugging at the bottom of her Slimer suit. Willa raised her arms to help aid in the stripping and was momentarily plunged into darkness as Van lifted the thing off of her.

“Ugh, is the fire for the s’mores still going? Because I want to burn this thing.”

When she could see again, she was confronted by Van’s outraged face. “You will do no such thing. If you aren’t keeping him, I’m going to.”

“And where, pray tell, are you going to keep it?”

Van’s scowl deepened, and Willa had to smother a smile. “Don’t call Slimer ‘it.’ Show some respect, for god’s sake. I’m going to put him…”

Van held Slimer up in the corner of the cabin, probably planning exactly how to suspend the thing—sorry, him—in midair, and if she was unlucky, how to make him fly around and terrorize her. Had it been anyone else, she would’ve been irritated, but she just found Van so goddamn charming. “Here.”

Yep, there was that smile Willa couldn’t—and to be honest, didn’t want to—fight against. She set indignant hands on her hips and cocked them, making her skirt ride up on one side. “Fine, but how about you work out your suspension system tomorrow? Unless you want to make use of your night of free rein by employing me as your lab assistant.”

Infuriating woman actually seemed to consider it, but then tossed Slimer onto a pile of laundry, facedown. Good. She didn’t want Slimer seeing what would come next.

“No. I’ve got plans for you.”

Van’s dark eyes raked over her, and though there obviously wasn’t any physical contact, her skin prickled and tingled as if there were. She could imagine Van’s blunt fingers—still stained with her last-ditch efforts to finish up her project—trailing over and over her body. Ached for it, actually.

Willa had to hold herself back as Van walked toward her, intent bright in Van’s eyes. Those fingers Willa longed for instead took hold of the flap on Van’s coveralls and pulled, the sound of unsnapping going straight to her core. Another snap followed and another, until the gap reached Van’s waist. She shrugged the top off to reveal a skintight ribbed undershirt, and Willa’s mouth watered.

Van tied the loose sleeves at her waist and then set her own hands on her hips, and Willa couldn’t help but stare. The lighting in the cabin was less than ideal, but she could still see Van’s nipples through the thin, white fabric. God love the woman for rarely wearing a bra. Willa wanted to sink to her knees, wrap her arms around Van’s waist, and take one of those hard points into her mouth to suckle without even bothering to push the shirt out of her way.

Van was the one who’d won their bet, though, and now it was time to pay the piper. Or the ‘buster as the case may be. And her ‘buster was looking intent on payment indeed.

Van lifted her small pointy chin. “Skirt off.”

“But you—”

“Yes, I love your skirt, and I’d like it even better on the floor. Strip, Willa.”

How many teenage nights had Willa spent hearing those words while she furtively touched herself under her covers? The wetness gathered between her thighs like it had on those nights in the dark, but now it wouldn’t be her own fingers stroking that intimate flesh. A shiver ran through her just thinking about it, which seemed perfectly reasonable when one of her deepest-held fantasies was coming true.

So she reached for the hook at the side of her skirt and undid it, grabbing the zipper and sliding it down until she could shimmy out of the pleated fabric.

“Shorts too.”

Right. She’d slipped on some ass-hugging Spandex things, the shortest ones she had because she’d wanted to flash Van a little cheek as Willa left her in the dust. Willa worked them down her thighs, Van’s gaze zooming in on her underwear right away, and Willa could swear there was a quiet curse word in response.

Yes, she’d thought Van would like these. She’d maybe worn them on purpose. Baby pink and lacy, they showed off more than they covered up.

“Shirt.”

Willa obliged, stripping her own tank over her head and discarding it on the floor.

“Hair down.”

Wow, she must’ve done something right, because rarely was Van so monosyllabic when they were together like this. In the past two-plus weeks of sexytimes, sometimes it had even been necessary for Willa to put a finger over her delicious mouth to hush the running commentary so they could kiss. Not now. Now she’d stolen the words out of Van’s mouth and left her with only the briefest of instructions.

Willa tugged the elastic out of her hair and shook it out so it fell below her shoulders. It was amazing how good Van could make her feel without even laying a finger on her—the way Van looked at her could make her sturdy knees weak.

Then she and Van were toe-to-toe, and Willa had to look slightly down to keep eye contact. Van took another step forward, and Willa had to bite off the groan rising in her throat as the knot Van had fashioned from her discarded sleeves pressed against Willa’s pelvis, as if more attention needed to be drawn there. Instead, Willa’s teeth sunk into her lip and she closed her eyes.

“That’s a good idea,” Van muttered, almost to herself. “Keep your eyes closed.”

Oh jeez. Willa’s body tensed, but she did as she’d been told, never one to renege on a promise. That’s when Van touched her, and she sucked a breath into her lungs as Van ran a finger from her navel up to the band of her sports bra. It was the only front-closure one she had, and she was glad she’d worn it tonight.

Van toyed with the zipper at the front of her chest, and Willa couldn’t help but shift. Was this what she was in for? A long night of being teased? She didn’t think she could take it.

Van didn’t seem to have bottomless wells of patience either, tugging at the zipper until it came undone and then pushing the straps off Willa’s shoulders. Now she was mostly naked in front of Van. Which shouldn’t have been disconcerting, given they’d been entirely naked together before, but this was different somehow. Maybe because the lights were on and she was standing here like a mannequin in a lingerie shop? Or maybe because this was the first time she’d been with a partner and started having images of a future together flit through her brain regularly.

It was a heady combination of nerves and excitement, picturing going out on an actual date with Van, having her visit and picking her up at the airport with nothing more than a backpack because she’d have a drawer at Willa’s place.

Whatever it was, it made her breath come shallow and fast, made her clench her hands into fists as Van set warm hands under her breasts. Touch me. Was she not supposed to make demands? The rules of this bet hadn’t specified.

“Van, please.”

“Please what?”

The callused pads of Van’s thumbs traced the bottom-most curve of her breasts, sliding first out to the side of her ribs, nearly to her armpits, and then back to where they would meet in the center.

“Touch me please.”

“I am touching you.”

Infuriating woman. “More. I want you to touch me more.”

Then the maddening hands were drifting down her ribcage, her stomach, fingers and thumbs forming a W that drifted down to her waist and stayed there. Then Van was toying with the waistband of her underwear, thumbs skimming along the top of the lace, sometimes dipping underneath. Willa shivered, her skin prickling with goosebumps. This was not what she’d had in mind.

Van coasted her hands back up, and there was the most welcome sensation in the world of her breasts being hefted, weighed in Van’s hands. She’d sometimes cursed her chest—large breasts weren’t particularly helpful in athletics and could be a downright pain in the ass. Well, more like back and shoulders. With Van’s hands on her, though, she felt beautiful and wanted. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel Van’s desire pouring off her in waves.

Van toyed with her for a while, squeezing gently and running thumbs over her rapidly hardening nipples, all while moisture gathered between her legs, probably soaking what little fabric was there. When she was about to plead again, Van dropped her breasts, and she made a small noise at the sudden weight. It didn’t hurt precisely. In fact, it made the string of desire running between her breasts and her pussy pull tight. Hell.

“You’re going to lie on your bed.” Willa opened her mouth to protest, because she couldn’t see a damn thing and there was no way she was going to try to navigate the minefield that was their cabin floor. Like as not, she’d probably step on a Lego. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you.”

One hand about Willa’s waist and another in her hand, Van steered Willa toward her bed, and when Willa felt the cotton of her duvet at the backs of her knees, she sat. Van cradled the back of her head and helped her lie down. It was strangely thrilling, the careful way Van was handling her, and it continued to thrill her as Van steered Willa’s hands to the top of the bed where she wrapped Willa’s fingers around the metal rung there.

“Don’t let go, no matter what I do.”

What in heaven’s name did the woman propose to do? There was some shuffling that made Willa uneasy, but she breathed through it, much as she would a point in a big match. In some ways, there was less at stake here—there was no one she’d let down—but also so much more. This thing she had with Van…it didn’t feel temporary and it didn’t feel casual. And Van herself…she seemed different somehow too.

Maybe it was that they were both adults now, but behind that charming and zany—and yes, sometimes grumpy—exterior, she’d discovered a gentle and thoughtful person, someone who she thought about a lot. While some of the hero worship was still there, which was part of what made this so goddamn exciting, she also felt like she had something to offer Van. She wasn’t a kid anymore.

While she’d been meditating on their relationship, Van had apparently found what she’d been looking for in the swamp she called her side of the room. The side of the narrow bed sank, and while Willa wanted so desperately to open her eyes, she wouldn’t. A good thing too, because a second later, something soft and stretchy was slipping over her closed eyes.

“What—”

“It’s my Wonder Woman sweatband.”

If one of Willa’s teammates or country club friends had said that, she’d be grossed out. She didn’t want someone else’s sweat-drenched athletic gear all over her face. But she knew Van—she wasn’t the working out type. Also there was no way she’d sully anything with her beloved Wonder Woman’s symbol on it, even if it were a thing built specifically to be soiled.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Because I know you.”

There was a shift of the mattress, and before she could even take a breath, Van was straddling her and then kissing her. God did that woman know how to kiss. Which was a little surprising. Van had made it sound like she spent more time with her books than with actual people—and even less with people of the romantically involved sort—but you’d never know it from what she could do with her mouth.

As quickly as the kiss had started, it was over, and Willa was left craning her neck for more. What she got was an open-mouthed kiss with a whisper of a lick on the side of her neck, just under her ear, and then another right where her jaw started to curve. Van sucked at her skin, and though she wouldn’t have thought so before now, that small act made her squirm underneath Van’s weight. Made her want Van to mouth every last part of her. Especially when Van finished off with a nip and moved lower. Teeth skimming along Willa’s collarbone, kisses being dropped between her breasts, until Van’s tongue circled her navel.

It was a good thing Van was straddling her, otherwise, she surely would’ve squirmed off the bed by now. As it was, Van tutted at her.

“How…”

A bite caught the edge of her bellybutton.

“Am I…”

A kiss dropped on one of her hipbones.

“Supposed…”

A lick and a long suck to the rise on the other side of her pelvis. Willa hoped Van would leave a bruise—to show that Van had seen fit to mark her, claim her, that Van delighted in the taste of her skin that much. The thought made her internal muscles clench in a wish for penetration.

“To torture you…”

Van slid back, moving her straddle from Willa’s hips to her shins, and kissed right above the line of Willa’s scant underwear.

“If you don’t…”

Then Van’s weight was gone, soon replaced by her hands spreading Willa’s knees to make room for her. Followed by fingers hooking into the sides of her underwear, more fingers urging her to lift her hips, and then the barely there lace was sliding down her legs until it was gone altogether.

“Stay…”

Van’s weight shifted again and though Willa was tempted to release her hands, rip the makeshift blindfold from her eyes, and dig her fingers into Van’s hair, she contented herself with a whimper. Van was going to kill her. She was going to die from desire in this cabin, and there would be inquiries, and what kind of reputation would that give Camp Firefly Falls? The poor Tullys.

Then there was a warm breath between her legs, and Willa started chanting in her head. Yes, please. Come on, Van, please.

“Still?”

Then Van’s thumbs were parting her labia, spreading her out so Van could have access and use that ridiculously gifted mouth of hers precisely where Willa wanted it. A broad lick right over her clit sent shudders through her entire body and a groan from her mouth.

Not that she would wish for it, but the teasing had her so sensitive, so ready to blow, she wasn’t sure why precisely she wasn’t coming all over Van’s face right this second. God she was close, but that blunt contact was only enough to make her crazy, not quite what she needed to go off.

Van repositioned a hand, and then her fingers were sliding inside of Willa, first two and then three, followed quickly by suction and the flick of Van’s tongue over the center of Willa’s pleasure.

That. That was what she needed to get off. She gripped the bar above her head so hard she wouldn’t have been surprised if it came off in her hands, and her hips pressed up, needing the contact of Van’s mouth against her core, needing the push and spread of Van’s fingers inside her.

Her climax seemed to go on forever, like tiny aftershocks from an earthquake, skillfully drawn out by Van, until she couldn’t stand being touched anymore. It was too much to bear, and her head was so scrambled she could barely find the words.

“Done, Van, done. Can’t. No more.”

There was a soft chuckle from beyond the blindfold, and with one last kiss pressed just above the line of her pubic hair, Van slid out her fingers and moved from between Willa’s legs. Willa pressed her knees together, needing to feel closed off after being blown wide open. She only realized she was still clutching the bar when Van gently pried her fingers from around it. They were stiff and sore, unenthusiastic about being straightened out after being violently curled for so long. Van was tender, taking her time easing the kinks out, kissing Willa’s knuckles, sucking lightly on her fingertips.

If Willa hadn’t been left boneless by that earth-shattering orgasm, Van’s soothing attentions would’ve rendered her so. Even when Van slid the blindfold up to her hairline, she didn’t open her eyes, but stayed in the dreamy half-dark behind her eyelids.

“‘Mazing. Anyone ever tell you you’re a fucking genius?”

A huffed laugh as Van stretched out beside her and nestled under one of Willa’s arms to rest her head on Willa’s chest. “Well, sure, but it’s usually in a professional context, not actual fucking.”

“Morons.”

More laughter, but Willa didn’t care. If Van could make her come like that, she could laugh at her however much she wanted.

Willa had every intention of reciprocating—or at least having manners enough to offer to reciprocate—but before she could, she fell asleep.

* * *

Van’s dreams had always been places where wishes came true. Some people had nightmares, but she never had. Dreams were always vivid fulfillment of her every desire.

She’d thought about nudging Willa awake from where she’d basically passed out—girl was a stickler for hygiene and Van couldn’t imagine she’d be pleased to wake with un-brushed teeth—but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She’d snuck out of the narrow bed herself to do her night routine and get out of her coveralls and into some flannel pajama pants so old they were verging on threadbare.

Standing in the middle of the cabin, she debated: to climb back alongside Willa or go to her own bed? Aside from being super-awesome at the sexing, they hadn’t established what was going on with them. Dating? If so, what would Nate say? The thought made her stomach curdle.

Plus, in less than a week, they’d be packing up the cabin and Willa would be heading back to Stanford, and Van would be back in Charlottesville, dreading the immersion of getting back into the swing of academic life.

If this was just a summer fling—and what the hell else could it possibly be given the circumstances?—she’d glean every moment of pleasure she could out of this week, like sucking marrow from picked-clean bones. Back to lay beside Willa it was, and as she settled in, she tried to program her dreams. Perhaps it would work, perhaps not, but it was so worth a try.

She fell asleep to visions of kissing Willa, and yeah, Willa getting braver in her exploration of Van’s body. It was sweet she was tentative, making Van aware that, though she was no Lady Casanova, she’d still had more experience with women than Willa had. What she wouldn’t give for Willa to be as aggressive in bed as she was on the court, though.

It turned out Van didn’t need to wait for her subconscious to provide. What felt like only minutes after she’d fallen asleep, Willa’s husky voice was hot in her ear.

“Van?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you awake?”

“No.”

There was a beat of silence and then an elbow to her ribs that made her laugh.

“You are so.”

“Yes, I am. What’s up?”

Please don’t say, “Could you get out of my bed now that you made me come so hard pinecones rolled off the roof?”

She didn’t.

She didn’t, in fact, say anything at all. Instead of forming words or sounds, Willa used her perfectly lush lips to kiss below Van’s ear before taking the lobe between her teeth, softly at first and then harder, with a tug.

In the name of everything Holtzmann…

The tug seemed to head straight for Van’s breasts, making them feel hot and needy, nipples hard and ready to be fondled or sucked. What Van wouldn’t give to have Willa do to her nipples what she was doing to her goddamn earlobe. Not to mention there was a slight pulse in her core that sent want through every inch of her body.

These feelings could, of course, be explained by chemical reactions, which were sexy in their own way. Van thought, at least. She’d like to get to know Willa better before she attempted to seduce her by murmuring science-nothings in her ear though, describing everything in terms of the nuts and bolts of the human body and not some magical process of divine arousal.

Though, by this point, Willa’s mouth had begun to travel lower, and divine was absolutely the word for how it felt to have that woman touching her this way. Willa’s fingers rested on Van’s stomach, scratching lightly with nails through the worn ribbed cotton of Van’s shirt. It would’ve tickled if it hadn’t simply enhanced the feeling that endorphins and hormones were coursing through her system at an unprecedented rate. Along with her heartbeat and her blood, hot with lust, pumping through her veins.

Van was pretty sure it wasn’t possible to die of horniness, but if these few minutes had been any indication, she could come damn close.

“Please, please be doing what I think you’re doing.” If she were a dude, her voice would’ve cracked. As things were, it came out a croak.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

In the dark, Van could barely see the outline of Willa’s head, backlit by the faint glow of the moon and stars from outside.

“Exacting your revenge?”

“If by exacting my revenge, you mean hoping to give you an orgasm half as good as the one you gave me earlier, then yes. That is precisely what I’m doing.”

Van’s eyes rolled back in her head. She wished she had little Willa Carter on tape saying orgasm. No, she didn’t. Nate would no doubt find it, and she’d find him rocking in a corner with his ears plugged, humming the Imperial Death March. Nah, Nate might look like he was being strangled by the Force, but only for a few seconds. He was reasonably cool as big brothers went, at least about the sex part. No paternalistic, prudish attitudes in Nate Carter’s head—at least that he would cop to—and Van would happily take credit for some of that. What he probably wouldn’t take kindly to is Van hurting Willa in any way.

Willa’s hot mouth closed over one of Van’s nipples and subjected it to the same treatment as her earlobe. Including the scrape of teeth. That’s when all thoughts of the other Carter went entirely out the window.

“Ah!”

As soon as the delectable motion had begun, it stopped, and Van slammed her head back into the pillow. Don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop.

“Did I hurt you? Am I doing this wrong? Is it—”

Van shook her head, hoping Willa could see the movement in the dark. “No, that felt amazing. Really, really amazing. The only way it could be better is if—”

Her instruction was cut off by Willa tugging at the neck of her tank, pulling it down beneath her breast, and starting over, this time with no cotton between the sensitive peak and Willa’s sinful mouth. The way she moved her tongue and sucked hard… Van dropped her head back again, and this time made an effort to make her noise less ambiguous.

“Fuck, Willa, I love it when you do that.” Willa’s hand had joined the fun, cupping and squeezing the part of Van’s breast that wasn’t in her mouth. Van’s back arched off the bed with the added stimulation, and she moaned again.

“You’re going to wake up the neighbors, you know.”

Pfft. As if they’d be the first cabin to be a-rockin’ at Camp Firefly Falls. Rumor had it this place had almost ruined, but then saved Heather and Michael’s marriage. Maybe their falling in love again was a good luck charm, because there sure had been a lot of people who found their happy endings—or really, beginnings—here. But she had a better idea than telling Willa about her ridiculous woowoo ideas.

“How about you shut me up, then?”

Of course, her competitive Amazon took the bait and raised her mouth to slant against Van’s, silencing her. Van couldn’t help but thread her fingers through Willa’s hair. In the dark, it looked more silver than gold, but it was so silky her hands passed right through it without meaning to. On the next pass, she knew better and wound it around her fingers to hold Willa fast against her, their lips meeting, parting, and their tongues caressing each other.

They were lying side by side now, and Van took advantage to hook a leg over Willa’s hip. Not only did Willa not resist, she grabbed Van’s ass and pulled her closer, until their breasts were pushing together and goddamn if that wasn’t one of the sexiest feelings in the world.

Their limbs and tongues tangled all up together, and it was getting difficult to tell who ended and started where. Then Willa hitched Van’s leg even higher, bringing Willa’s thigh between Van’s legs in such a way that made her groan into Willa’s mouth. Van rocked her hips, creating friction and pressure against her clit, and Willa tightened her grip on Van’s ass and urged her forward again. “Does that feel good?”

Van buried her head against Willa’s shoulder, hiding out in that curtain of cornsilk hair. “Yeah, it feels good.”

“I like it too. I like how you feel, rubbing on me. Do you think you could come from this?”

Van had to laugh, a short half-snort. “I don’t think—I know.”

“Then do it, Van. I want to feel you come on me. I want to hold you while you come.”

Who was she to say no to that? So she rocked her hips again, the pressure and the rasping contact exquisite. Bonus, it left their hands and mouths free to touch everywhere, kiss everywhere. Then the tension had ratcheted as high as it could go, and the string of her desire snapped. Maybe not as intense as climaxes she’d had from fingers or oral, but the shallower waves seemed to roll out for longer, and she relished every last pulse as she rocked out on Willa’s bare muscular thigh.

Their foreheads touched as Van panted, clutching Willa for all she was worth. “Revenge exacted.”

Willa laughed, that throaty rasping thing, and then laid a kiss on Van’s forehead that made her glow inside. That wasn’t something you did to a fuck buddy—that was genuine affection, as was the way Willa held her and stroked her back as she drifted off. And genuine affection, that was the kind of thing that should have set off flares in Van’s brain.

This thing with Willa wasn’t about intimacy; it was about sex and fun and eighties nostalgia. It wasn’t about holding hands and…and sleeping together face-to-face. So yeah, there was a ping of terror at the back of her head about what was going on here, but the far, far bigger problem was that it was only a ping. Should’ve been a symphony, a cacophony of noisy-ass shit going off in her head. But as hard as she looked for it, it wasn’t there. What was there was a happy little warm fuzzy who was super-excited about the idea of having Willa Carter in her bed and in her life not just for the next few days, but for the foreseeable future. She was completely and utterly fucked.