Page 29 of Unhurried Hearts

Her eyes light up as she examines the box. “Is that from West Coast Confections?”

Like a very uncoordinated Vanna White, I hold the box in one hand and flourish my other around the box before opening the lid.

“It is…could I interest you in a cinnamon roll?”

She licks her lips, snatching one and wasting zero time taking an impressive bite. She lets out a satisfied moan.

I’m ready to slather myself in that icing.

We settle down on the rocks, not trying to talk while we chew the sticky dough.

“God, these are extra cinnamon-y.”

I laugh. “That’s not a word.”

She takes her last bite. “Is now.”

Anna scoots closer until her heat sinks through my t-shirt. It’s not close enough for me, though, so I lift her easily into my lap. I harden instantly at the weight and warmth of her ass against my crotch.

There’s no question whether she notices because she presses against me more firmly and sighs my name, “Chris.”

I grasp her hips, not able to resist her any longer. Shamelessly, I circle my pelvis, giving her a better idea of whatlays, or stands, in my shorts. Her breathing accelerates like we’re back on the trail. Burying my lips against the crook of her neck, I run my tongue over the salty skin that covers her fluttering pulse. She smells like vanilla and sweet cinnamon icing. When she twists around so that she’s straddling my lap I squeeze my eyes shut. She’s killing me. She’ll have to head down by herself and leave my body behind.

“Anna…” I warn her when she grinds her hot centre on my hardened dick.

With immense self-restraint, I move her further back in my lap, placing soft kisses on her cheeks and around her lips. The frustrated whimper that escapes her as we separate makes me twitch in my shorts.

“We need to head down. We’re losing all our light.”

She clears her throat like she just realized how lost in the moment we were. Brushing some dirt off her knees as she stands, she offers me a hand and I take it, allowing her to help me up.

It’s nearly dark by the time the parking lots comes into view. Thankfully, I found an extra light, because Anna’s smooth soled shoes were even worse on the way down.

“It’s getting cold.” She rubs her bare forearms.

We’re only days into fall but the leaves have already taken their cue and the temperature followed suit.

“Good thing I’ve already got the hardtop on. You should feel it on a cold night with it off.”

I let her in then rummage around in the back, producing a slightly itchy wool blanket that I tuck over her lap once she’s settled.

“Thanks.” She smiles sweetly at the gesture.

I shake my head as I stow my pack. I’ve never tucked a blanket around a woman’s thighs, and I’ve certainly never pulled one off my lap. Something tells me she’s worth the wait.

Chapter thirteen

Anna

My lengthy post-hike shower is well deserved. The amount of huffing and puffing I had to do to get up that trail was embarrassing. Chris, on the other hand, didn’t even sound like hewasbreathing. I knew the guy worked out, but the fact that hiking is a regular part of his post-construction work routine makes me feel like a lazy blob. A vision of him shirtless, striding toward my bed, laying down next to me like he had earlier swirls around my head. For someone who’s neverhadsex, I sure think about it a lot. While I used to contemplate the act of sex in a practical and abstract way, this week my life is turningthose thoughts technicolour. The star of the show? Chris, of course.

Slipping into bed naked with a box of prawn Pad-Thai delivered from the place around the corner feels anticlimactic in comparison to our mountain-top makeout. The man has some serious restraint. And I know it’s not because he doesn’t want me. I haven’t been able to get the memory of his hardness right under my clit off my mind. Is he replaying it over and over too? Maybe he’s sitting alone at his place eating a meal naked too? I swallow, picturing him in his bed, a thin sheet pulled up to his waist. A trail of hair disappearing beneath the covers that slowly rise from his big—

I clear my throat, searching frantically for the remote. Distraction. I need a distraction. I twist my wrist to get the right angle so the remote will work and begin flicking through the movie channels.

Fifty Shades of Grey.

No.

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