Page 114 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
Her slap misses, landing just beside my chest. “Shut up.”
I’m trying to keep my cool with her body splayed on top of mine, but fuck.
Then something moves.
First, on my back. A slight, almost ticklish sensation, like a feather brushing against my skin. My mind remembers the feather tickler from The Crimson Hollow. The thought is swift when the creeping spreads along my arms and my legs, like a thousand tiny something’s make their way over my skin.
“What the hell?” I try wiggling off whatever it is, but the sensation only grows stronger.
“What the hell, what?” She presses her flat palms on my chest.
“Something is crawling on me.”
Her eyes dart like a country girl, ready to jump into action, but then her expression stiffens, frozen in pure horror.
“Are those fire ants?”
“What? No.”
She jumps back, straddling me, and my cock notices right away. But pleasure is shut down real quick when I spot the ants crawling on her arms. And sure enough, those little fuckers are fire ants. The sting of their bites sears beneath my skin
I run my hands down her arms, dragging the ants off her skin. They’re fast, though—faster than me—and every time I knock one off, it seems like two more replace it.
“Get up!” She jumps to her feet with a grunt, grabbing my arms and pulling, like she thinks she can yank me up with her.
“Alright,” I mutter, barely getting my feet under me when her hands start brushing the ants off my bare chest.
“We’ve got to remain calm.” Her fingers scrape down my side, and she’s so damn focused on me that I grab her waist and start brushing the ants off her legs. “Panicking and flailing will agitate them.”
I try to be gentle, but each movement grows more frantic than the last. She wipes my shoulder so damn gently I barely feel her fingers, but I feel the bites. I slap the back of my neck so hard I see stars.
But we’re being swarmed.
Then I look down.
“Dammit, we’re standing in the ant hill.”
I don’t waste another second. My hand locks around her wrist and under her ass. I pull her close and haul her over my shoulder.
I swallow against the sight of her ass close enough to bite. Lord, the more I’m with her, the more I discover kinks might be up my alley.
She doesn’t object to being hoisted and, instead, sweeps off the ants within her reach.
I push through the burning sensations and rush up the ditch. We reach the road, and I set her down. We separate, both of us brushing at our bodies in frantic motions. Every new bite sends a fresh wave of pain.
“Take off your boots and socks.” She yanks hers off. “They often crawl in there.”
I realize she’s no rookie at this, likely due to her experience dealing with incidents at the lodge.
I kick off my boots and rip off my socks, and when we finally knock off the last few stragglers, our breathing is rapid.
I glance at her, and for a split second, it feels like we’re both coming down from some strange, chaotic high.
Dirt smears over her flushed face, and her hands still move over her arms, as if confirming she’s rid of the ants. Her ponytail has unraveled, and strands escape everywhere.
Fuck, if the thought of grabbing the back of her head and planting my lips on hers doesn’t hit me with a force I’m not prepared for. This is why I stay away from her, and why I especially avoid situations where we might touch.
She glances at me, breathing heavily. “Well, that was something.”
