Page 86 of Craving Francesca

“Should be deserted this time of night.”

“You think?” I looked at the darkness around us. We were so far from civilization that there was no light pollution at all, just the moon barely filtering through the trees.

“You can leave your bag here,” he said. “No one will mess with it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Never have before.”

“You come here a lot?” I asked, setting my backpack against the back tire. My shoulders were stiff where the straps had rubbed.

“Few times. I like the quiet.”

“I would’ve never guessed that,” I joked as I crouched down and unzipped the top of my bag. Thankfully, we’d packed the smallest things on top, and my bikini was easy to reach.

Gray rounded the bike. When he came back, he was holding up a ratty towel. “You mind sharin’?”

I let out a huff of laughter as I rose. “You think that’s going to dry both of us off?”

“Enough,” he replied with a shrug.

“I don’t mind sharing.”

“You came prepared,” he commented, nodding to the bikini in my hand as he tossed the towel over his shoulder.

“Is there anywhere to change?”

“The bushes.”

“That’ll work,” I replied. “Lead the way.”

Pulling a flashlight out of his pocket, he turned it on and reached for me with his other hand. Our fingers laced together as he led me into the woods. I’d grown up with a father who didn’t take vacations, but he had taken me camping when we had long weekends, and the scent around us brought up a thousand memories. Eventually, Gray stopped.

“I’ll turn away,” he said, doing just that.

“Uh, okay.”

The knowledge of Gray standing just feet from me while I changed didn’t bother me at all. I knew he wouldn’t turn back around until I’d given the okay. But it still felt weird that we were out in the open.

I took a deep breath and pulled off my hoodie, looking around for somewhere to set it until I was done. Eventually I just laid it over Gray’s shoulder. He reached up instantly to secure it.

The rest of my clothes landed quickly on Gray’s shoulder, and he didn’t hesitate once as he held them each piece in place.

A year ago, I wouldn’t have bothered with a swimsuit. When was the last time I’d gone skinny-dipping? The answer was depressing.

When I finally told Gray he could turn back around I was standing there in nothing but my bikini and boots.

“Damn,” he breathed.

Blood rushed up my neck. “You’ve seen it all before.”

“But not with the boots,” he joked, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“Shut up,” I mumbled as he reached for my hand again.

“I didn’t bring trunks,” he said as he led me toward the hot spring. “You mind if I’m in my boxers?”

“What would you do if the answer was no?” I asked curiously.

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