Page 71 of Wallflower
The route to Chord’s secret location takes us back down Aster Springs’ main street, past acres of vineyards and farmland, then down a rough dirt road that barely warrants the name. He drives confidently through terrain that only a truck could handle, down a narrow path that gets rougher and more remote as the trees around us grow thicker and bright yellow and purple wildflowers begin bursting through the underbrush. Though it feels like forever, it only takes another few minutes for Chord to pull to the side of an unmarked road and cut the engine.
I look around, searching for a sign or something—anything—to indicate we aren’t in the middle of nowhere, but there’s no such thing.
“We’re here,” he announces.
“Um.” I squint out at the wall of nature outside my window. “Okay?”
Chord grins harder, reminding me of a kid with a secret, and climbs out of the car. I’m still worrying about how I’m supposed to hike in my bare legs and sneakers when he opens my door.
“It’s not far,” he reassures me when I hesitate.
I don’t think I could deny this man anything, so when he slips his hands under my arms to lift me out and set me on the ground, I go with it.
Chord takes my hand and leads me around the car, stopping to take out the blanket, and now I can see there’s a beaten track through the forest that’s only visible on foot. We follow it down a gradual decline until the trees give way and a wide blue-green lake comes into view. It’s still and stunning, with the light of the sun skipping along its surface and the blue sky stretching on forever overhead.
“Oh, my,” I whisper as Chord draws me closer to the water’s edge. “This is incredible.”
“I think so too.” Chord drops the blanket on the soft grass at our feet and squints out over the water. The shore on the opposite side is far enough away that I couldn’t swim the distance, and he points to what looks like the end of a long wharf jutting out into the water. “You can’t see it from here, but there’s a little beach around that corner. That’s where most people go to swim, and where local kids go to get drunk and make out. You can drive right up to the water on that side, so it’s easier to get to, and it’s a good spot for parties and bonfires.”
I can picture it now, and although it makes me want to smile, I’m sad that my childhood was nothing like that. I spent all my free time at home. “Sounds like fun.”
Chord shrugs with a reflective, almost wistful, twist to his mouth. “I was too busy and too serious about playing hockey to spend much time out here, but I sneaked out a few times before I was drafted to Tampa.”
“Were you bad?” I tease.
He loops his arms around my waist and holds me close. “The baddest.”
I bite my lip to stop a giggle. “I find that hard to believe… Chord Fergus Davenport.”
Chord’s eyebrows lift before his ears burn red, and he chuckles lightly. “You’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to throw that out, haven’t you?”
“About a month, give or take a few days.” I laugh and trace the shell of his ear with a fingertip. “It’s only fair I see you blush for once. Don’t you think?”
He growls and kisses me hard, and I laugh against his mouth.
“So, why are we here instead of over there?” I ghost my palms over the carved lines of his upper arms and ignore the adorable flush creeping up his neck. “It sounds like the beach over there is a lot more convenient.”
Chord narrows his eyes as a mischievous smile passes his lips. “Because this side is a lot more private.”
He lifts the hem of my tee high enough to expose my belly, then stops with a question on his scarred eyebrow. My heart races as I raise my arms so he can slip the tee off my body. He lets it fall to the ground, and his throat bobs in a deep swallow as I do the same for him, dragging his shirt up over his torso and as high as I can up his arms before he has to finish the job.
We stand there, me in a lacy white bra and shorts, Chord bare-chested, his fingers twisted loosely in mine, and our bodies brushing with every breath.
“Do you want to go swimming?” he asks in a low rumble.
I’m so lost in his blue eyes that I nod without even worrying about what’s going to happen next.
Chord drops to his knees and unlaces my shoes before lifting one foot, then the other, to slip them off. He looks up at me as he unbuttons my shorts, and I shiver in the full heat of the sun as he drags them down my legs. I step out of them, and he skims his hands up my legs, and when he traces the line of the little white thong I’m wearing, I close my eyes with a whimper.
Chord stands and pulls off his own shorts, and when we’re both in nothing but our underwear, my nipples hard underneath the lace of my bra and Chord’s erection obvious behind the fabric of his underwear, I bite my lip and fight the temptation to remove my bra and panties. I want to be naked with him. Still, I’m too scared to be that bold. Chord hesitates like he’s thinking about it too, but then he removes my glasses and sets them carefully atop my clothes, takes my hand, and leads me into the water.
Although the water is cooler than the air around us, it’s surprisingly warm, and we wade far enough in for the depth to reach my shoulders.
Chord sinks beneath the surface first, rising like an Adonis with trails of water dripping from his dark hair and over his temples, down his smooth cheeks, his collarbone, his muscular chest. I follow, dipping quickly into the water, then rising back up, pushing my hair off my face.
When I open my eyes, Chord’s watching me with the kind of expression that triggers a wet, achy pulse between my thighs.
“Come here,” Chord says, his voice husky, reaching out and dragging me to him.
