Page 29 of Willow

I remove my water bottle from the backpack, and Willow does the same. I open a protein bar and take a couple of bites, passing it to her in offering. She takes it, devouring the middle third. Then, I get my wish. We both remove our outer layers, and my eyes are graced with an unobstructed view of that tank top. It doesn’t disappoint.

Willow leans over the rock and dips her hand into the water, exposing more of her chest as the fabric gaps. She shivers when she feels the frigid temperature of it. Her nipples immediately tighten into peaks that rival the mountains behind her, and I can’t tear my eyes away from her. That hair is blowing softly around her face in different shades of brown and gold and blonde. Her cheeks are flushed from the hike and from the sunrays that are deceptively strong up here. She looks like vitality and unbridled happiness. I want to bottle her expression right now so I can sample it on my dark days.

My eyes must burn into her skin because she turns toward me as if she could sense my gaze. I don’t look away.

“You’re staring at me,” she states.

“I am.”

“Why?” She looks to the side. “Do I have something in my teeth?”

She’s deflecting, trying to joke her way out of how my attention makes her feel.

There’s a wall in place with Willow. I don’t know when it was erected or why, but it’s there. Someone hurt her. Someone disappointed her. Maybe they betrayed her trust at some point. And she’s not going to let her guard down and make that mistake again. Not with me or anyone else. I know because I’ve been there before, pushing people away before they get too close. And like recognizes like.

She sits there, looking like a photograph with the lake and the mountains and the trees behind her. I take a mental picture, memorizing her in this moment.

“Come here,” I demand, leaving no room for her to deny me.

She starts moving toward me with careful steps, scaling along the boulders and hopping onto mine. I spin my hat around until the bill is facing the back and rise to my feet, my eyes trailing down her curves before I touch her.

My fingers reach out to trace the outline of her mouth, my other hand landing on her hip. I kiss her, a light, teasing touch before I go back for more. She lets me. The pad of my finger explores her collarbone before traveling south. Her nipples are now as hard as the stone we’re standing on. My lips drop to her chest, licking and tasting the swells of her tits just above her tank top. Her head drops back, and her breathing accelerates. Her skin is so soft …

I’m shocked back into reality when I hear someone laughing, approaching along the dirt path behind us. I pull away to a respectable distance as they come into view. And I shift, shielding Willow’s body. I don’t want anyone to see her in this sliver of clothing. Only me. Two men walk by, nodding hello as they pass.

Willow rests her forehead on my chest and exhales a laugh.

“Only you could get me one second away from stripping down to nothing in the middle of a public trail in the mountains,” she confesses.

“Why me?”

She looks up and shakes her head slowly with the hint of a smile on her puffy lips. “I wish I knew.”

I kiss her again, but don’t try to take things further this time. It feels good to act on instinct without holding back. We both know exactly what this is—a short vacation fling. That automatically makes this easy and fun. I don’t have to think too much about what I’m feeling or what we’re doing. I can just enjoy being with her.

“Are you hungry?” I ask after pulling away.

She nods, and we find a softer, more level spot to spread out a picnic. We unwrap sandwiches, select chips, and eat.

“What was it like, growing up here?” she asks me.

“A lot like this. I always spent more time outdoors than I did at home. Hiking and fishing and camping. Even our school days were spent outside a lot of the time. My science classes would travel all over the forest when the weather allowed, and we’d get our hands dirty, learning by doing and seeing.”

“That sounds like so much fun,” she says between bites.

“It was,” I admit, pausing to chew and swallow another bite. “Where most of America is obsessed with football, I was always obsessed with winter sports. I was on skis practically before I could walk. And shortly after that, I switched to snowboarding. I found my love early on, and it was all over after I rode the board for the first time. I was hooked. I had a yearly pass for the slopes, and my parents couldn’t get me off the snow. After school, on weekends. It became apparent pretty quickly that I was good at it. And I think I loved it so much that it was easy to keep getting better. I didn’t want to be anywhere else or do anything else. Everything came second to shredding. School, girls … everything.”

“Benji said you were a boss on the slopes.”

I smirk. “Benji is awesome. He loves boarding as much as me. And competition. But he never let it get the best of him. He always loved the sport for what it was. If I won, he would be my biggest cheerleader. He just wanted to be out there on the mountain.”

“I can see that,” she says with a faraway look in her eyes. “Benji is such a genuine soul.”

I nod. “What you see is what you get with him.”

“What about Wyatt?” she asks cautiously.

“Wyatt,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “Wyatt and I are a lot alike. We’re too competitive and too stubborn for our own good. We were tight when we were kids. But when we started competing, it began to affect our friendship. I guess it was hard for us to separate the two. The rivalry bled into everything and not in a good way.”

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