Page 10 of Big and Rowdy
"Wasn't planning on it," he growls, increasing his pace.
The boulder is warm against my back, a contrast to the cool mist floating around us. The sound of the waterfall mixes with our panting breaths and the slap of skin against skin, creating a primal symphony that seems to heighten every sensation.
Boone's hand slips between us, his thumb finding my clit with unerring accuracy. The added stimulation has me climbing rapidly toward another peak, my inner walls beginning to flutter around him.
"Come for me again, Savannah," he commands, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "I want to feel you come around me."
His words push me over the edge, and I'm coming again, harder than before, my entire body convulsing with pleasure. I cry out his name, the sound echoing off the valley walls, and the sensation of me pulsing around him triggers his own release.
He buries his face in my neck, groaning my name as he pulses inside me. His hips stutter, then still, and for a moment we're frozen in perfect union, both gasping for breath.
The waterfall provides a natural soundtrack, and the late afternoon sun paints everything in gold. I'm still trying to catchmy breath, still reeling from the intensity of what just happened between us.
I turn in his arms so I can see his face, noting how the cockiness is completely gone now, replaced by something that looks almost vulnerable.
"I should probably tell you," I say carefully, "I don't usually do this."
"This?"
"Get involved with someone I've just met. Have sex outdoors. Any of it, really."
His smile is tender. "Good. I'd hate to think I was just another vacation fling. But outdoor sex is way better than in bed."
“Oh, I know that now,” I laugh but the words send a pang through my chest, because that's exactly what this is supposed to be. In less than a week, I'll be packing up my campsite and moving on to the next adventure. Boone will become a pleasant memory, nothing more.
Except looking into his eyes now, I can't quite convince myself that walking away will be that simple.
"What are you thinking?" he asks, apparently reading the conflict on my face.
"That this is more complicated than I planned for."
"The best things usually are." His hand finds mine, our fingers intertwining naturally. "But that doesn't mean they're not worth it."
As the sun begins to set over the hidden valley, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, I let myself imagine, just for a moment, what it might be like to stay. To build something real with this man who makes me feel wild and safe at the same time.
six
Boone
Iwakeinmyown bed with Savannah curled against me, her breathing soft and even, and feel a contentment I've never experienced before. After our time by the waterfall yesterday, I insisted she come back to my place rather than return to her tent. "Storm's supposed to roll in tonight," I'd said, though we both knew that wasn't the real reason for the invitation.
The storm did indeed come, and we spent the night alternately making love and talking in whispers, learning each other's bodies and stories with equal fascination. Now, morning light is filtering through the curtains, painting golden stripes across the bed, and I'm loath to disturb the perfection of this moment.
But my stomach has other ideas, and the smell of coffee would probably be welcome. Carefully, I extract myself from Savannah's embrace and head downstairs to start breakfast.
I'm at the stove when I hear her soft footsteps on the stairs. She appears in the kitchen doorway wearing nothing but my thermal shirt from yesterday, her hair tousled and her eyes stillheavy with sleep, and for a moment I forget how to breathe. I've never seen anything more beautiful in my life.
"Morning, beautiful. Sleep okay?" I ask, trying to keep my voice casual even as my heart races.
"Eventually." She moves to the coffee pot, very aware of how the shirt barely covers her thighs. "Thank you for letting me stay."
"Thank you for staying." I abandon the bacon to pull her into my arms, nuzzling her neck in a way that makes her shiver.
Breakfast is a lazy affair—scrambled eggs and perfectly crispy bacon, fresh fruit, and coffee that's strong enough to wake the dead. We eat on the porch despite the cool morning air, wrapped in the same blanket from our first evening together.
"So what's the plan for today?" she asks, curled against my side with her coffee mug warming her hands.
"That depends. How long are you planning to stick around?" The question I've been dreading to ask, but needing to know the answer to. She bites her lip, and I can see her weighing her options.
