Page 32 of Into the Mountains (Blue Grove Mountain #3)

“I didn’t exactly expect this to be completely honest.” He grunts as I stroke up from base to tip in one slow motion.

“Go over to the side pocket in the cooler.”

“So you did bring me here to seduce me?”

I laugh and continue my strokes, but grip a little tighter, drawing out a sharp gasp from him. “No, I just like to be prepared.”

“Have you been…” he hesitates like he isn’t sure how to ask his next question.

“Yes, I made sure I was clear after the girl I was with even though we didn’t sleep together. You?”

His breaths are heavy now and I can tell he’s getting close by the amount of strain in his voice. “All clear.”

I pull my hand away from him and slide down his body, taking his boxers with me.

On my knees for him now, I take my time letting my eyes devour him.

His muscles, the slight hair on his chest, not too much where it’s completely covered, but not too little either where it’s patchy.

There’s a dark happy trail leading all the way down to his hard cock that I want to trace.

So I do. I trace his skin lightly like he did on my thighs with his fingers.

His breathing is ragged, which makes my nipples harden.

I don’t touch him where he wants right away, instead teasing him around the base with my fingers.

And then my tongue. I don’t think he expected that, because he stumbles back a bit and it takes him a moment to regain his balance and reposition himself.

He looks down at me and traces the line of my jaw, grabbing a strand of hair.

“You are so fucking beautiful.”

“You’re only saying that because I’m on my knees for you.”

Immediately, he gets on his knees so we are face to face, inches away from one another. “For once, I’m going to drop the bullshit, okay?”

“Okay?” My heart starts racing and it’s not just because I’m horny again.

“You’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever met.

You’re not only beautiful, but you’re smart.

Smarter than I’ll ever be no matter how much I’ve tried to be otherwise.

I’ve always thought that, but I was an idiot who didn’t act on it.

I…I’ve had real feelings for you for a long time and if I didn’t think it would send you running back to that boat, leaving me here stranded, I’d say words you deserve to hear.

But you also deserve to hear them when you feel you’re ready. ”

He’s right. I would probably run. It’s too much too soon, but my heart is a traitor and is begging him to say the words anyway. To say the words I’ve been wanting to hear for so long. The ones I’ve imagined him saying to me a thousand times over. The ones I feel too.

Reaching into the pocket inches from us, I grab the condom I stashed in there earlier and rip it open.

Once it’s in place, I push him back on the blanket and straddle him.

His eyes never leave mine as I position him where I’ve been craving him the most. Fingertips dig into my hips as I push down onto him, and our voices fill the cave.

There have been very few times that sex has ever felt good for me.

The first time when I was with a man at the beginning of freshman year in college was uncomfortable and I never heard from him again.

The next time with a woman was better, but I still never felt like I do now.

This feels like something I usually see in the movies.

Two people that have had feelings for each other for years, finally get together and it’s everything they could have wished for. This is that.

He’s everything I could have wished for and for once, I’m letting myself enjoy every single second of it.

“You know, you never did answer my question.” He is sitting with his legs crossed, boxers back on, but his chest is still exposed. I opted to steal his hoodie without bothering to cover my bottom half.

“What question is that?” I ask as I dip a piece of pita bread into the guacamole we unpacked from the cooler. After we finished twice, we ran out of energy for any more, so we decided to actually eat the food we brought.

“What’s the weirdest thing that’s ever happened on a boat?”

“Like, to me or just in general?”

He thinks for a second. “Just the weirdest fact you know.”

I roll my eyes at him. “You sound like those idiots in school who would treat me like some sort of game show.”

Shame crosses his face and his ears redden. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know you didn’t. It just reminded me of it, that’s all.”

“It shouldn’t. And I should have known better. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

We let the crunch of the food we’re chewing fill the silence for a while, but it’s not uncomfortable.

Back then I learned to become desensitized when kids would come up to me and ask me to spout off random facts.

Before that I would actually believe they’d want to know and be excited my peers were including me in something.

The image of their faces as they failed to stifle their laughs is one I won’t ever forget.

And not just because I don’t have a choice.

Soon after that, I’d try to ignore them, but that didn’t work all the time.

They’d nudge me or scream as if I didn’t hear them from two feet away.

And if I refused to give them an answer, to entertain them in some way, something worse would happen.

Writing on my locker, more than normal run-ins in the hallway, an occasional foot would suddenly be in my path and so on.

“Tell me the weirdest thing about yourself instead,” he says.

“What?”

He scoots closer and puts his chin in both of his hands as he stares over at me like I am the most interesting thing in the world to him.

“What’s the weirdest thing about yourself?”

“Besides that I have no choice but to basically remember every little thing I see?” I ask.

“Yes, besides that.”

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“You’ve got a deal, red,” he says immediately.

“Let me think for a second.”

“Oh c’mon, you have to think about it?”

“Well usually on dates, people ask about my hobbies or what my favorite book is or something.”

“No one has ever asked what your favorite book is, have they?”

I sigh. “No. They haven’t.” And I really wish they did.

“Alright, then what’s your favorite—?”

“ The Hobbit. ” The answer comes out before he even finishes his question.

“You’ve been dying for someone to ask you that, haven't you?” His voice is muffled from the grapes he tossed in his mouth.

“It’s just an overlooked classic.”

“Overlooked?” He leans forward, eyebrows raising in surprise. “You know, there is a whole fanbase for those books, right?”

I roll my eyes. “Of course, but most of that fanbase is for The Lord of the Rings . The Hobbit is shoved to the back more than it deserves I feel like.”

“Tell me why.”

My heart swoops low in my chest. Usually if I talk about books or my actual interests for too long, people don’t really care to ask any other questions about it or they tune it all out completely.

Elias looks like he genuinely wants to know.

So for the next forty-five minutes, I ramble on and on about the details of the book I’m afraid they’ll leave out of the movie and the fact that I have to wait three more years for it to come out is physically painful.

Near the end of my ramblings, I notice Elias has gotten a few inches closer like he couldn’t help but be near me.

“So, The Hobbit is the prequel to The Lord of the Rings ?”

“Elias,” I groan.

“I’d rather you be moaning my name, but do go on.”

“Please tell me you’ve read these books.”

“I’m not a big reader.”

“Tell me why,” I repeat his words back to him.

“I always hear about how when some people read, they can imagine the scenes they’re reading.”

“Like a movie,” I confirm. I’m one of those people. I can see everything and it’s why I love to escape so much. “What do you see?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Absolute darkness. Just all black. I know what I’m reading, but I can’t picture it. So the knowledge that other people can literally see everything in their mind and bend it to whatever they want is actually really magical to me.”

“So, I’m magical?”

“Just like Gandalf himself.”

“You did not just compare me to an old, wrinkly, bearded wizard.”

“I thought you’d take being compared to him over being compared to Radagast.”

My brain short circuits at him repeating one of the names I told him earlier during my rambling. He actually listened to all of it. I didn’t really have a doubt, but to have that validated is…refreshing.

Before I have a chance to say anything else, he leans in to kiss me and I let him, feeling the warmth of him against my lips.

His hands come to my waist to pull me closer to him.

My legs fall to either side of his waist and the soft blanket cushions my knees.

Fingers start to lift his sweatshirt at the hem before I slap his hand away.

“Don’t even think about it. This sweatshirt is mine now. ”

“Absolutely not, Charlie.” He grins like he’s joking, but I know deep down he’s being serious. I know how much this sweatshirt means to him, but that doesn’t mean I won’t make him work to get it back.

“You have to earn it back.”

“And how do I do that?”

I act like I’m contemplating my answer. “There are so many ways.” I stand suddenly, throwing him off balance and put a few feet of distance between us.

“And what ways do you want me to earn it back?”

“On your knees.”

“I was hoping you were going to say that.”