Bacon burger with sweet potato fries . . .
Pretzel and beer cheese . . .
Schnitzel topped with sauerkraut . . .
Distracted by culinary daydreams, Lucy hadn’t noticed Jonathan stop until she face-planted into the back of his hammock backpack contraption.
“Oof!”
Her feet were so bogged down by waterlogged muck that instead of stumbling backward, she plopped squarely onto her ass.
“Shit! Lucy. I thought you’d notice I’d stopped.” Jonathan knelt down and futilely brushed sodden clumps of hair and mud from her face. “Are you hurt?”
Drawing in a slow, controlled breath and counting to five in her head was the only thing keeping Lucy’s sanity intact. That and the sizzling heat from where Jonathan’s hand drifted across her temple. She exhaled in a puff of condensation that mingled with his.
“I’m fine. Just a little muddy,” she joked, wiping her filthy fingers on her even filthier pants.
“Hold out your hands.” Jonathan opened his Nalgene and splashed water over Lucy’s palms to rinse off the worst of it. After they each took a swig from the bottle, he pulled out the last of their food—a handful of trail mix and a few strips of jerky.
“You read my mind.” Drool dribbled down her chin—nope, that was more rain—while eyeballing the snack. “I’m sofuckinghungry.”
“Not a mind reader,” he chuckled. “You were talking out loud.”
Greedily taking a bite of jerky, Lucy asked, “How close are we to Eight Mile?”
“It’s hard to say. But we’ve gotta be getting close. I’m going to go out on an optimistic limb and say soon . . . I hope.”
“Then let’s keep going. Lead the way, Lewis.” Holding out her hands, Lucy waited for Jonathan to help her up. He steadied her by wrapping his arms around her waist and leaned down to nuzzle her neck.
“You can be Lewis. I think of myself more as a Clark,” he murmured then gently nipped the shell of her ear.
Vibrating shudders wracked her body, but this time, it wasn’t from the soaking rain and cold. Tilting her head to the side so he could have better access, she gave a noncommittal hum. Reaching up on tiptoes, Lucy kissed Jonathan, his lips a warm contrast to the rivulets of rain dripping down their faces. He reached beneath her shirt and pack, digging solid fingers into the small of her back, pulling her closer so she was flush against his frame.
She could have climbed him—then and there like a damn tree—but, being the more rational one, he pulled back enough to speak. “Later, sunshine.” His teeth dragged a rough path along her bottom lip, leaving behind little licks and kisses to ease the sting. “I promise.” Rumbling through his chest, the words were an oath, oneLucy had no doubt he would make good on. And when he did . . . Lucy’s toes curled in anticipation, straining against her overly tight laces.
Jonathan loosened his hold and stepped back, letting out a steadying breath. His eyes, like fingertips, trailed down her body and back up. “You have no clue what you do to me,” he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I have an idea.” Subjecting him to a similar perusal, she cocked a brow when her eyes settled on his fly. Shehadbeen pressed up against him a moment ago after all.
“Point taken.” She thought she spied a blush creep up his face, but it could also have been from the cold hanging in the air. “Ready?” he asked.
Physical hunger abated and replaced by a very different need, Lucy gave a quick nod.
Jonathan flashed a swoon-worthy grin and took a step away before turning to continue on their path—
And slipped out of sight in a blink.
Shock enveloped Lucy just before the fear descended, shudders racking her body harder than the surrounding chill.
“Jonathan!” she screeched so loudly that she felt the sharp sound from inside her skull. “Jonathan!”
No!
No no no!
He’d slipped. His foot landed on a soft spot, and he slipped through dense brush, down a hillside, and out of sight. It was instant. He was there one moment then nothing. Just bushes and a large smear in the mud where her guide had once stood.
“Jonathan, can you hear me?” Her voice was shrill even to her own ears.