Page 80 of Hot Knot Summer
“Because you’re perceptive,” he replies as we join the short line for the ride. Atlas and River are behind us.
When it’s our turn, Levi helps me into one of the swan boats, then settles beside me. The seat is decent-sized with lots of legroom.
“Comfortable?” he asks as our boat starts to move, gliding smoothly into the dark tunnel river.
“Mmm,” I reply noncommittally, aware of him pressed against my side. The darkness seems to amplify his presence.
As the ride progresses, we pass through different scenes—animatronic couples in various romantic settings from various fairy tales, twinkling lights meant to represent stars, paper mâché trees with carved hearts. It’s cheesy and ridiculous and should be making me laugh.
Instead, I’m increasingly distracted by the heat ofLevi’s body next to mine, the way his thumb absently strokes my shoulder, and the solid strength of his thigh against mine. My heart races, and there’s a building pressure low in my belly that’s becoming harder to ignore.
“Have you been to many summer festivals?” I ask, desperate for distraction, his face covered in shadows from the dark ride.
“A few,” he answers, his voice low. “This one’s special, though.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you’re here.”
The simple statement shouldn’t affect me so strongly, not to mention it’s super corny, yet it sends a wave of heat through me that settles between my thighs. It’s not just attraction anymore; it’s something more urgent, almost painful in its intensity.
I shift closer to him under the pretense of adjusting my position in the small boat. My hand lands on his thigh, and instead of removing it, I let my fingers trace small circles against the denim of his jeans. The muscle beneath tenses immediately.
His breath catches audibly. “Keep touching me like that,” Levi murmurs, his voice dropping to a growl I’ve never heard from him before. “And I can’t be responsible for what I’ll do next.”
The threat should frighten me. Instead, it sends another rush of heat straight to between my thighs, and my nipples tighten. My body is betraying me,responding to him with savagery. I look up at him through my lashes, feeling reckless, dangerous.
“Is that a promise?” I ask, my fingers continuing their teasing path higher up his thigh.
His expression is raw hunger.
His hand wraps around my wrist, stilling my fingers on his thigh. For a moment, I think he’s going to push me away. Instead, he guides my hand higher, letting me feel exactly what I’ve been searching for beneath his jeans.
“This is what you’re causing,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes,” I breathe, the word escaping before I can stop it. My fingers curl around his hardness as much as his jeans will allow, and his jaw clenches at my touch.
Our boat rounds a bend, slipping into a darker section of the tunnel designed for the themed events. I turn toward him fully, my free hand finding the back of his neck, tugging him down to me. The swan-shaped seat is high enough to conceal us, and with River and Atlas behind us, I know they can’t see us.
Our lips crash together, fierce, demanding, almost desperate. He tastes like cinnamon and heat, his tongue claiming my mouth with a dominance that makes me whimper.
His hands find my waist, lifting me effortlessly until I’m straddling his lap in the small boat, facing him. The position brings us intimately close, the hard length of him pressing against my drenched pussy through our clothes.I rock against him instinctively, seeking friction and relief from the burning need consuming me. The itch is so deep, so insistent, I feel like I might scream out with frustration.
“Fuck,” he growls against my mouth, the curse shocking from his usually precise lips. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Show me,” I challenge, nipping at his lower lip.
His hands tighten on my hips, guiding my movements against him as his mouth trails fire down my neck and farther down. He pulls my shirt lower, so he’s just above my nipple, kissing me. Then he bites down, not hard enough to mark, but enough to send a jolt of pleasure-pain straight through me.
I gasp, my back arching, pressing my breasts against him. One of his hands slides up my side to cup the weight of my breast through my shirt, thumb brushing over the hardened peak. Even through layers of fabric, the touch is electric.
“I’ve thought about this since the moment I saw you,” he confesses against my throat, voice rough with desire. “Wondered how you’d feel in my arms, how you’d taste on my tongue.”
His words are as arousing as his touch. I rock harder against him, chasing the building pressure.
“Levi,” I moan softly, ignoring the mechanical scenery we pass.
I feel his smile against my skin, predatory and pleased. “I love you begging.”
