The Real Deal

She licks her lips. “I wanted to make sure you meant what you said.”

“I’ll show you how much I mean it.”

I place my hands on her knees, stretching across to kiss her. She parts her lips for me, opening her sweet mouth, and we sigh. We moan. We kiss.

As our lips come together, we find a rhythm that fits us. It’s both tender and rough. Intense and sensual. Dirty and romantic.

She threads her hands in my hair, roping her fingers through the strands, and when she lets out a sexy little sigh, my temperature soars.

I break the kiss and grab her hips. “Come closer,” I whisper roughly. “There’s a space between us, and I don’t like it. Come onto me.”

The sturdy boat bobs only slightly as she rises, moving up and off her bench so she can straddle me, a knee on either side of my thighs. Her hands trail down my arms, stopping at the compass tattoo. She kisses my neck as she asks, “Why a compass?”

I push against her. “I felt lost. I needed to know some things were constant.”

“Like the stars?”

“Yeah, like the stars,” I echo as I grip her hips and move her against me. She ropes her fingers in my hair. “April?”

“Yes?” Her voice sounds dreamy.

“All the stories we tell feel true to me.”

“They’ve always felt true to me, too.”

I nip her collarbone. “From the start. From the second I met you. Don’t ever forget that, okay?”

She curls her hands tighter around my head. “I won’t. It’s that way for me, too.”

I grind up against her. I want to take off all her clothes. I want to experience her—flesh to flesh, skin to skin. But it’s too soon. I know once we do that, it’ll be even harder for me to let her go. It’ll be harder for me to move on when she leaves me. I push between her thighs. “I thought about you the first night I met you,” I say, blurting it out.

She rocks her hips against my hard-on, seeking more pressure, more friction. “How? How did you think of me?”

I run my finger over her bottom lip. “Your mouth, I love your mouth. Your lips. I imagined you taking me deep.”

She grins wickedly. “You dirty man. I love that you went straight for the money shot.”

I laugh. “I love your mouth. It’s not just because these lips are so pretty,” I say, and slam my mouth to hers. She gasps in surprise as I kiss her hard. Rough. Matching each consuming kiss with a punch of my hips. “I love all the things you say with these lips.”

“But I bet I wasn’t talking in your fantasy,” she says in a silky purr. “I bet I was sucking.”

“Ah fuck,” I say as my dick thickens even more and desire shoots down my spine. “You were sucking me deep, and that’s the first time I came thinking of you.”

She blinks. “You’ve gotten off to me more than once?”

I rock my hips against her. “Yes. Shower. B and B. You in my imagination.”

“Oh God,” she says, throwing her head back, exposing her neck, and unleashing a long sexy moan. The moonlight streaks across her pale skin. “Me, too. The first night here. I touched myself. I came under the water thinking of you.”

I rock harder, faster, kissing her, and my kisses turn wetter, deeper because my mind is a white-hot blur. I picture her in the shower, fucking her fingers. Then I zoom in on her now, fucking me with clothes on. She moans and pants, and her breath comes in faster, more erratic bursts. She tugs on my hair, arches her back, and cries out. “Don’t stop! Please don’t stop.”

“Never,” I say, and I keep the pace. She’s riding the edge of pleasure like this, chasing her bliss. Her cheeks flush, and her mouth turns into the loveliest O. She squeezes her eyes shut.

Ohhh.

Yes.

Please.

She’s so sensual. She’s so beautiful. And I’m so screwed because I don’t want to stop with her. She shatters, in a mind-blowing gasp, as a shudder unfurls down her body. It’s gorgeous, watching her fall apart riding me, under the stars, floating on the lake.

Saying my name.





Chapter Thirty

April

We stop.

Immediately.

But I don’t want to stop.

I want him to feel just as good as I do. He grits his teeth and sucks in a tight breath. Gently but firmly, he pushes me off him. He looks me in the eyes. “It’s not that I don’t want you rubbing against me. I do. But I’m dangerously close to coming.”

“But coming is fun.”

Coming courtesy of another person is even better, and I’ve just had a refresher course on how infinitely better orgasms are when someone else delivers them to you.

My body is glowing. My head is a lovely haze of endorphins and giddy lust. All my guidelines, all my boundaries have been smashed to pieces—and in this moment, I don’t care. Maybe I don’t even care beyond this moment. Perhaps nights like this could keep unfurling? My heart pounds harder, giving me its answer to the question in my head.

Silly heart.

“Coming is great fun, but—call me crazy—I don’t want to come in my pants and then walk to the inn like that,” he says.

“There are other ways I can make you come,” I say, feeling bold, feeling reckless.

He laughs, rolling his eyes. “Wait, cupcake. Just wait with me. Enjoy the moment. I just want to be with you right now.”

That sounds damn fine, too. I want to gobble up every second with him. I want to savor these times. A warm flush spreads down my chest as we settle in on the floor of the boat, snuggled together, his arm around me. He leans to the side and retrieves the flask, then hands it to me. We drink, and we lie on the floor of the boat, and we talk about summer nights and growing up and dreams we had. We gaze at the stars. It’s so achingly romantic, I want it to never end.

I show him Orion’s Belt and the Big Dipper, but that’s as much as I know about constellations, so we make up names for others. A twinkling star far to the south becomes the Southern Flask, while a jagged line of stars right above us is dubbed the Little Puppy Lights. Theo cracks up over that one, as if he’s achieved the height of humor; then he nuzzles me, kissing my neck. Our kisses are wetter, longer, a little drunker than before.

Emboldened by tequila and the Little Puppy Lights, I fumble at his zipper, tugging it down. “Let me touch you.”

He laughs and shakes his head, zipping up his jeans. “I have to take a piss now.”

I roll my eyes. “So much for romance.” He rises, and I stare at him for a second. “Are you going to pee in the lake?”

A scoffing sound bursts from his mouth. “That’s gross.”

I shrug. “Mitch used to do that.”

“That’s even grosser. And that’s why I’m not going to piss in the lake. It’s your parents’ lake. I’m not going to urinate in it.”

He grabs the oars and rows us to shore. Once we tie up the boat, I gesture to the house in the distance. “I’d let you in to use the little boys’ room, but I don’t have a key, and they actually keep the doors locked.”

“That’s wise, keeping doors locked,” he says. Then he winks and dips his head close to me, whispering. “Crime is everywhere.”

I swat him. “Always best to be safe.”

“Always, cupcake,” he says, then drops a kiss to the end of my nose. I grab his waist, and kiss him back harder. I’m not sure if I’m more buzzed on the tequila or on him. But as his lips slide across mine, I decide he wins. I’m definitely intoxicated by Theo, and I want another drink, then another, then one for the road.

He’s like a potato chip. I tell him that as we walk toward the woods. “You’re Lay’s.”

“Like the chips?”

I nod. “You can’t eat just one.”

He laughs. “You want the whole bag of me? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes, I’m going to keep dipping my hand in and going back for more.”

He looks down, reaches for my hands, and threads his fingers through mine. “I won’t stop you.” It sounds like a whispered promise. My heart thumps as I look at our joined hands.