Page 71 of You, with a View

“I love the way you say my last name with all your attitude, so I’m not saying stop calling me Spencer.” He pauses and I open my eyes, holding my breath. “But now that you’ve started calling me Theo, don’t stop that either, okay?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, inexplicably, exhaustedly happy. “Okay.”

Twenty

Are you sure you want to stay home? It’s our last day here.”

Paul looks up at me from his book. “Oh, yes, the past two days have really taken it out of me. I want to rest up for our next adventure.”

Yesterday we spent the day on the Kolob Canyon side of Zion. Though we stuck to flat trails and Paul has the stamina of someone a dozen years younger, I believe him when he says he’s wiped out.

But there’s definitely a sparkle in his eye now as he tucks himself further into the corner of the couch.

God, that couch. If it were a person, I wouldn’t be able to look it in the eye. I can barely lookPaulin the eye. My cheeks flame at the thought of what Theo and I have done there the past two nights. My brain instantly offers memories of the confident, commanding way he kisses me with his hand bracketing my jaw, how he looks looming over me in the darkness. Those tortured, bitten-off sounds that escape his mouth when I suck on his neck, or bitethe curve of his shoulder while I’m stroking him. How, last night, after a full day of not being able to touch, he filled his palms with me—my breasts, hips, ass—like he’d been thinking of the shape of me for hours.

“Shepard.”

I jump. Theo’s standing by the door already. From under the brim of his hat, his eyes sparkle with amusement, like he knows what I was daydreaming about.

I feel bad leaving Paul here on our last day in Zion, but not so bad that I won’t take the opportunity to be alone with Theo. Plus, this means we can tackle a more strenuous hike; my body craves that burn.

“Okay, well, call us if you need us,” I say.

Paul waves cheerfully. “I won’t! Enjoy today’s letter.”

I pat my backpack, where it’s safely tucked. “Can’t wait.”

“We’ll be back by dinner.” Theo opens the door, barely moving back so that when I step past him, our bodies brush against each other. He bites his lip, grinning, and I give him a droll look, grazing my fingers across the front of his gym shorts as payback. His hand shoots out to grab my arm as he shuts the door. Cutting in front of me, he backs me up against the wood, still chilled from the early-morning air.

“Guess how many times I said your name.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Last night?”

His soft laugh brushes my lips like a kiss. “Right now.”

“Couldn’t have been more than twice.”

“Four times.” His eyes are fixed on my lips. I feel the bite of his teeth there, the slick slide of his tongue, the weight of him when I took him into my mouth last night. He had to be so quiet. His thighs shook so intensely, and when he came, his relief felt like my own. “What were you thinking about?”

I lick my bottom lip, satisfaction rolling through me when he follows the movement with an intensity I used to see on the tennis court. That single-minded attention waiting for a serve, for the chance to demonstrate his exceptional skill.

He’s good at a lot of things. I don’t hate it so much anymore.

“I was thinking about breakfast.” I let out a gasping laugh as he crowds into my space, pinning my hips to the door with his. “Lunch, too. Wondering what we’ll have for dinner.”

He smirks. “You did look pretty hungry.”

I flick his hat bill up so I can get a better look at his eyes. They’re hungry, too. “You ready for this hike, Spencer? I’m going to push you. Might kick your ass.”

His smirk turns into a full-out grin. “That sounds like a reward, not a threat.”

“You say that now, but wait ’til we’re on hour five.”

“Again, that sounds like a reward.” He ducks so his mouth is right there. Almost kissing me, but not quite. “But your threats always have.”

Before I can process that, he rubs his thumb over my bottom lip, then grazes the corner of my mouth with his. The stubble on his chin burns my skin. And so does his hand when he slaps my ass with dirty enthusiasm.

I gasp. “Oh, you assho—”

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