Page 47 of Only the Wicked

“I regret lying.”

The contradiction between the meaning of the words and her lust-filled gaze short-circuits my thought processes, but the smaller brain overrides, computing the most important fact.

“Now you want to have sex?”

She steps forward, one arm over my shoulder, her fingers on my nape, pulling me to her. For one brief second, I question if this is what I want, if it’s the right time, if this will be another slippery slope with me falling hard and fast into a tar pit of boredom, but I push the uncertainty aside. I want her.

I wanted her last night at dinner. Last night in bed. And I especially want her now.

Her naked body presses against my cool, damp skin. Sensations overwhelm my senses. The roll of her tongue. Minty taste. Soft curves. Slick hair.

A sharp thorn pierces the side of my foot, and on instinct I lift her as I stumble, hopping to the stretched towel. Her chin presses into my shoulder.

When I’m on safe footing, I slow, lost in the dark pools of her eyes, the pupil somehow overtaking the iris. Her feet slowly drop to the ground, her thighs gliding down mine, but my hands remain on the globes of her ass, holding her close.

“You okay?’ she asks.

There’s a tease in the question, like she’s stifling laughter.

My foot stings, but that’s immaterial.

I tilt her head and resume our kiss. My erection, incredibly firm given where I just swam, presses into her abdomen.

Does she mind? Should I adjust?

“What was that?” Sydney presses against me, her body completely aligned to mine, and scans the woods.

“I heard nothing.”

“It sounded like…I don’t know…a limb falling.”

“Might’ve been. Or a deer. You don’t need to worry. No one’s going to stumble on us out here.”

She raises her gaze skyward. Blue sky intertwines with leafy limbs.

“Or see us on satellite?”

Her paranoid question shows she has no detailed understanding of satellites’ capabilities, and I could enlighten her, but I settle for a simple, “No.” Her soft breasts press against my chest and I create space between us, cupping her breast, tweaking her nipple. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

I don’t give her time to answer, instead lowering to take her nipple in my mouth, to twirl my tongue over her sweet peak.

Her knees bend and I follow until we’re both sprawled on the towel. I continue my exploration, feeling more free than I did last night, as I don’t need to hold back. She wants this.

“I’ve never…” I slow, my mouth over her navel, my fingers caressing the smooth curve of her hip, and my gaze raises, waiting for her to finish, wondering where she’s going with that. “Outside.”

“A first for everything.” My fingers reach her apex and her thighs spread open, ever so slightly. She’s bare, completely void of hair, smooth to the touch. “You wax.”

“Started on the swim team. Never stopped.”

My finger glides slowly over her center. Hot. Wet.

Her knees rise with my touch.

“I’ve tried to let it grow out, but it bothers me and I end up waxing again. I might get it lasered, so I never have to deal with it. It’s been on my to-do list. I just haven’t done it.”

I register the increasing frequency of her words, but my focus and intent aren’t on what she’s saying. I lower my head and lick slowly up her center.

She gasps.