Page 71 of Wildfire
“Sorry, did you say something? I can’t hear you.” Looking across the shore, I watch the man in question lifting kayaks and putting them back onto the rack with ease. Woodland creature isn’t the worst thing I’ve been called, particularly by Emilia. “I miss Poppy. She balances out how annoying you are.”
“Oh, trust me, she’s going to love hearing about this, my little cartoon bunny.” She clears her throat aggressively and starts waving her arms. “Hey, Russ! Could you come help us, please?”
She doesn’t sound like herself when she says it, but it’s just loud enough to capture his attention. Although I’d bet he has no idea what she said. Putting the final kayak away, he weaves through the campers as Clay leads them away to wash up for dinner. “What are you doing?” I grumble under my breath so he doesn’t hear as he gets closer.
“What’s up?” he says, stopping in front of the two of us.
God, he’s pretty.
Emilia points to the box dramatically. “I really have to use the bathroom. Could you help Rory put the chest back into the storage shed, please?”
“Are you doing okay?” he asks, definitely on behalf of the two of us. “You’re acting odd.”
“You never know who’s listening. You’re welcome.”
“They wouldn’t be able to hear you, even if they tried,” I say.
It’s her turn to give me the finger as she runs off to follow Clay, and now that she’s gone, the butterflies are flapping full force.
Definitely not allergies.
The past few days have been a mixture of loaded glances and hand brushes, hushed voices and knowing smiles. I did worry thatafter weeks of getting closer, once our mutual itch was scratched the excitement would wear off. But then he pulled me into an empty hallway and kissed the life out of me, and I know that’s not something to worry about.
Mostly I can’t believe there’s a guy who genuinely wants to spend time with me and have a connection with me beyond one that happens when we’re naked. I know that the bar is low for me when it comes to men, which frequently makes me mistrust my own judgment, but I can trust my judgment about Russ.
Russ nudges the chest with his foot, watching it move an inch. He picks it up, his biceps bulging with the weight. “I can do this alone, you don’t need to help.”
Oh Lord. I am a weak, weak woman. “I want to.”
It isn’t far to the shed, which is less shed and more storage building, and within a minute I’m flustered from walking behind him, watching his back muscles flex, and holding open the door for him. He drops the chest onto the floor in the dark room, and thankfully there’s no need for us to do anything else. I shouldn’t head in, too, and let the door close behind me—but I do.
There’s a light in here somewhere, but I have no desire to find it. Small streams of sunlight pour in from some upper windows, and we don’t say anything as his hands find my shoulders and move up to my neck. I place my hands on his waist and move them up to link behind his neck. His mouth finds mine, sweet and slow, like he’s trying to memorize the moment his tongue moves against mine. Pushing my body close to him, I sink my fingers into his hair, stretching onto my tiptoes to try and be even closer.
I’m about to complain about his hands leaving my neck, until he grips the back of my thighs, maneuvering my legs around him, sitting me on the nearest solid surface. Every touch is perfect, but it’s not enough and I still want more. I feel drunk on him; drunk on lust and secrecy and the forbidden.
His mouth travels along my jaw and down my neck. “I want you so badly.”
“You can have me.”
He’s hesitating going further, rightfully so, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want him to rail me against whatever my ass is perched on. This is not the place I want to be found with my panties down. The kids aren’t allowed in these buildings and I watched them all head back to their cabin. Neither of us would ever risk that.
Every other member of staff is the risk.
Which annoyingly makes it, like, ten times hotter than it would be because we might be caught and those familiar feelings I’m used to chasing start to return. The ones that flood your system with endorphins and make your nerves feel like live wires. It’s addictive and problematic, but even with all of the different alarms going off in my head, I still want him to test the steadiness of whatever is under me.
“We shouldn’t,” he whispers.
“We definitely shouldn’t,” I whisper back. “But if you happen to want to, then just know I can be super quiet.”
Russ’s laugh is low and husky, dirtier than normal, and I start to throb. That’s where I’m at: throbbing at dirty laughs. “You’re so smart,” he teases, and I swear this man is trying to end me. “But I love it when you’re loud.”
His mouth is back on mine and I use my legs to pull him closer to me, groaning when his erection presses into the apex of my thighs. I’m ready to say fuck it and get on my knees, but that’s when something falls, scaring the shit out of both of us.
He kisses me again, slow and gentle this time, rubbing his hands up and down the back of my thighs, and then there’s definitely something moving.
“What the fuck is that?” I ask, reluctantly unhooking my legs and putting my feet back on the floor. He helps me down as I pat aroundthe wall to find the light switch. I flick it on, and the whole room lights up the boxes and shelves full of equipment.
“I can’t see anything…” he says, as confused as I am.
