Page 72 of Chasing Paradise

When I took over, getting lost in the sensations, in the need building within me, his hands shifted, sliding up my sides, then moving between us to cup my breasts.

His thumbs and forefingers rolled and twisted and teased my nipples as I continued to rock against him, driving myself up, taking him with me—if his low groans of need were anything to go by.

Wick’s head lowered, lips pressing into my neck, causing delicious little trembles to course through me. His lips and tongue and teeth teased as my moans grew louder, more frantic.

“Fuck,” Wick groaned as I bore down on him as the orgasm slammed through me, stealing my breath as my whole body shuddered.

His hands went to my ass, dragging me against him over and over, dragging out my orgasms and allowing him to find his own, his body tensing, his breath catching.

I collapsed against him after, my head turned in to his throat, soaking up the closeness, sinking into the comfort as his strong arms went around me.

I couldn’t say how long we stayed just like that, bodies close, enjoying something soft after such a hard day.

But as we sat there, the rain stopped, and the sun returned as if it had never left, making everything muggy and sticky again.

It was my growling stomach that ruined the moment.

Wick let out a little laugh. “We should eat. We did a lot of moving today.”

He could say that again.

As I untangled from him and fetched my clothes, leaving my bra because, yeah, trying to put a wet bra on a damp body sounded like a nightmare, every muscle in my body objected to each movement.

My arms felt heavy and useless from the strain of the bridge collapse. My fingers ached from clinging so tightly. The little rope burns on my arms were a constant, annoying low-level pain. And we weren’t even talking about my blistered feet or the ache in my thighs from all the running.

“What are you thinking about?” Wick asked as we sat in silence, eating our guava and the couple of bananas he’d found. “Tacos?” he teased.

“Don’t even say that word. I’m starting to think I’m never going to eat them again.”

Wick’s eyes went sad for a blink, then determined. “I am going to get you out of here, duchess. You are going to have tacos again. And coffee. And a bed to sleep in.”

“You don’t know that.”

I mean, if it wasn’t the assassins who got us, it could very well be the jungle itself.

“Don’t give up on me now, Vi.”

“I’m not giving up,” I said. I was made of tougher stock than that. “I’m just… exhausted,” I admitted. “Every cell in my body hurts and needs rest.”

To that, Wick nodded.

“As soon as we’re done eating, we will find a nice thick area of brush, put up the hammock, and get some sleep. Everything will feel better in the morning.”

We both knew he was just passing out empty promises. We’d both been to the gym. We knew that pain from muscle fatigue was always worseafterrest. But what good would it do to say that out loud?

So we ate.

Then we got up and walked until we found an area of such thick greenery that, even if someone walked right past, they couldn’t see the hammock hidden inside.

Wick worked on setting up the hammock as I laid out our wet clothes, hoping the humidity would ease up enough to dry them while we slept.

We brushed our teeth without water to rinse. Then Wick climbed in the hammock.

This time, though, I didn’t climb in on the opposite end.

I climbed in right on top of him, dropping my face in the crook of his neck.

One of his arms went around me immediately as the other reached to zip us in before settling high on my shoulders, his hand grabbing the back of my neck.

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