But it was disappearing under my touch.

I couldn’t see him, but I felt the air changing. It was folding in around us.

I could smell him, the mixture of sand and pine filling me up, circling around me, pulling me in.

I was closing my eyes, giving in, when suddenly he asked, “What’s the serious answer?”

“Why we’re connected?”

“Yeah.” His voice was rough, deepening. He felt what I was feeling, and before I knew it, I’d rocked forward on his lap.

He caught me, splaying his hand over my hip, and he leaned forward. I felt his breath warming my neck. Slowly, so slowly, he moved to pull on the end of my sleeve. He tugged, inch by inch, until a portion of my shoulder was bare to him.

If he dipped down, half an inch, his lips would be on me.

My heart sped up, and my breath quickened. My lungs constricted.

But the need—I ached, and I rocked forward once again.

He groaned under me, holding me even tighter, anchoring me to him.

I felt him hardening under me, and I couldn’t stop myself. I had ceased to think. I couldn’t remember what he’d asked in the first place, and I moved forward once more.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his mouth slamming down on my shoulder. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

I whispered, “No.” But I moved again, rocking forward until I was full-on grinding on him.

I couldn’t stop. Not if he asked. Not if I tried.

That wasn’t true. I would have in both circumstances, but my body would’ve ached in protest. It was aching now because I wasn’t moving harder, deeper. I just wanted more from him.

“Reese,” I gasped. My fingers slipped under his sweatshirt, touching his stomach, beginning to explore there. “I…”

“You want this? Are you sure?”

I knew what he was asking. We were beyond the first kiss.

I gave in to maybe everything I shouldn’t have. “Yes.”

“Wait.” He said it, but he was standing up.

I was still on him, and I started to slip.

He bent down as my feet touched the ground, saying in my ear, “Jump.”

I jumped, and he caught me.

My legs went around his waist, my arms around his shoulders. Turning, he walked down the path.

Reese tightened his hold on me. “This was a bit different walking when you were leading me.”

I laughed into his ear, then couldn’t help myself. Leaning forward, I nibbled there, and he groaned. His hands shifted to my ass. His fingers flexed, digging in, and he bounced me a little.

“God, I love your ass.”

My eyes widened. “Really?”

“Hell, yes.” A low growl came from him. “Perfect size for me. A little meat, enough bounce, and I can’t wait to really grab hold of it.”

Damian had never talked to me like this.

I liked it.

Moving my head back, his breath was on me. I moved until the ends of our noses were touching. I could feel the outline of his mouth.

He was breathing harder, deeper.

“What are you doing?”

I smiled, softly. “Having fun.”

“You start messing with me too much, and we’ll be on our asses. As much as I might like this little exploration we’ve got going, I’m not fucking you on a wooded path.”

I started to close in until he added, “And I’m not kissing you when I can’t see you.” I felt him smiling. His hand switched, grabbing my other ass cheek. “I like to watch. I like to see what my touch does to you. I like to feel your shivers. I like it all.”

So damn hot. “God.”

He chuckled, letting me dip down so I felt him between my legs. Then he helped me start to ride him right then and there, through his sweats and my jeans, but I could feel him, and I wanted him.

My hand dropped down to touch his waist. “I want you in me.”

“Soon. So fucking soon.” Both his hands moved to holding my ass.

With my legs locked around him, he moved me up and down, slow and sensual.

Sensations coursed everywhere through my body. I slipped my hand inside his sweats as an inferno raged within me.

He groaned into my ear. “You sure you want to do that?”

Even more so now. I bit my lip in anticipation as I found him. He was long and hard and thick. So goddamn thick. I almost came right then, knowing how he’d feel inside of me.

“Holy fuck, Reese.”

He laughed in my ear. “Yeah. That’s all for you.”

It hit me: I was having fun.

Sex with Damian had been hot and intense, but not fun. I mean, there’d been moments, but my main memory now was that after a while, there’d been nothing. Five years of nothing, actually, and then I went to Lucas, who didn’t know how to touch or kiss. He tried. I had to give him that, but his touch had made me want to close up. It didn’t make me want him, or want this kind of touching.

With Reese, just a touch and I was burning up.

Feeling safe in his arms, I let my hand wander. I didn’t think. No lights were on, even as we approached the cabins. The village lights were motion-activated, so if he stuck to the edge of the path, they wouldn’t turn on. He did just that as my thumb grazed the tip of him.

He shuddered, nipping at my jawline. “Fucking hell, Charlie.”

I loved the power I had over him, and I cupped him more firmly. I cradled his dick in my palm, and as he stepped up onto his patio, I began to stroke him. He had to stop, bending over to rest against the cabin wall a moment.

His cock grew even more under my touch.

I slid my hand over him, slowly, sensually, and his entire body was shaking under me.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. You are killing me.” He grunted, moving back as he opened the door.

He slammed the door shut, switched the light on, and had me against the wall—all in one instant. Then his mouth was on me, and the world exploded.

It’d been like this once with Damian. Our first kiss.

Maybe it was wrong, but somehow I couldn’t stop thinking of him. My first kiss with Damian had been the same way. The world went away, exploding, and everything was right. Just right. But that’s all I felt, all I remembered. For once, thinking of Damian didn’t make me feel awful.

Reese cupped the side of my face, his thumb moving over my cheek and coming to rest on the side of my mouth. As he pulled back, his lips grew softer. It was just right. Pure. There was nothing holding me back.

No guilt. No pressure. No worry.

Just want and need and enjoyment.

I would enjoy this time with him—wherever it led, it would be what it would be.

And with that last thought, I gave in.

I kissed him back harder, more demanding, and he matched me. He could be commanding, then gentle, then tender, whispering grazes and caresses and making me quiver all over.

“Are you sure about this?” He paused, his eyes on mine.

I nodded. I had never been so sure, and it felt freeing. It felt powerful.

I slid my hand up his chest, around his neck, and pulled him down as I rose up to meet him. Because that was important to me, meeting him halfway. Fifty/fifty.

“God yes,” I said.

For that night, I was his.

For that night, he would be mine.

I woke the next morning and it took a second for everything to come back to me.

I was cramped back into the bed, and in a flash everything flooded in: The car. Reese. The wooded path at night. Crying. Falling apart. Him holding me. Then the more.

Feeling him.

Touching him.

Tasting him.

I looked over. He was sleeping on his stomach, his head tucked into his pillow, his arms crossed underneath it. The sheet had slipped down so the top of his ass was peeking out.

I scanned down that back, remembering how it had felt with him arched over me, thrusting inside of me. How I had raked my nails over him— I could see the marks today.

Shit, shit, shit. He had practice. Sometimes he was skins, sometimes not. They’d see what we’d done. Everyone would know.

I didn’t think. I shoved him off the bed.

His eyes flew open. He barked, flinging his hand to catch himself, but he was on the floor. “What the fuck?!”

I leaned over the side of the bed. “Do you think you’ll bruise?”

“What?” He sat up, scowling and grimacing. “Shit, woman. You’re insane.”

“I marked you last night. They’ll know today.”

He reached behind him, cringing, and my words began to penetrate. He cursed. “You’re right.” He blinked at me. “I’m going to have to fuck myself up, aren’t I?”

“Just go on the walking trail and fall on your back a few times. That should cover it up.”

“Shirtless?”

“You can say you went running and tripped?” I sat up on my knees, his shirt riding to the tops of my thighs.

I’d been a girl last night and decided his shirt was the only shirt I wanted to wear. The effect had been heady, for both of us, and he’d had me pinned underneath him a second later.

Eyeing my legs, he groaned. His head tipped back. “Shiiiiiiit. You’re going to be the death of me.” He got up, but grabbed for me.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll go and injure myself, but not before another quick one.” He threw me over his shoulder—his back flexing with the minimal effort it took him—and slapped my ass, cradling my cheek to feel it jiggle. “We’re taking a shower together.”

“You’re going to have to shower again.”