Page 60 of Good Girls Don't Kiss and Tell

He finally pulled away, sucking in air and trying to speak, and realized they hadn’t even talked about birth control. He assumed if she wasn’t on the pill, she would have stopped him, but if he was wrong…

“Please tell me you’re on the pill.”

Gracie laughed breathlessly. “A little late in asking, but yeah. We’re good.”

“Good. Good. And I’m clean, if you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t. I trust you not to give me some nasty-ass STD.”

Eric’s chuckle turned into a cough as he realized how dry his throat was. “Ah, you trust me? That’s so sweet.”

She hit his upper arm with the flat of her hand. “You’re ruining the afterglow.”

“Sorry, won’t happen again.” He kissed her neck, and she pulled away with a giggle.

“You’re gonna have to lose the beard,” she said.

His jaw dropped. “What? You want me to give up my beard for you?”

“Yes, it tickles and scratches.”

“Come on, you know you love the beard. You think it’s hot.”

Gracie pursed her lips. “I do, huh?”

“Hell yeah. Didn’t you call me a sexy lumberjack?”

“Ha, in your dreams maybe—”

The deep bay of a dog made them both jerk, and their heads swung toward the only exit to the little shack.

“What is the matter with you, Brutus?” Mr. Melvin’s gravelly voice was loud enough to be heard through the door, but there was no telling how close he was.

“What do we do?” Gracie hissed.

“I’m thinking.”

“This was your idea, Eric Henderson, and if you get us arrested—”

“Quiet, woman!”

Gracie grabbed him by the nipple and twisted. He let out an unmanly yip as she pulled away from him and climbed out of the pool. He didn’t have time to truly admire her small, tight ass or the nipped-in waist above it before he heard heavy breathing outside the shack. The door rattled, and the sound of scratches against the wood told him Melvin had let Brutus out to run the property. Deep growls and whimpers dissolved into frantic barking.

Shit, we really are humped.

Gracie was just pulling her shirt on and faced the door. Her eyes widened, and she turned toward him, glaring and pointing.

He got the silent message. It was up to him to fix it.

He climbed out of the pool and pulled his boxers, clothes, and boots on. He figured that he had minutes before Melvin came out to investigate why his dog was having a meltdown.

Getting on his jacket, he faced Gracie, keeping his voice low. “I’m going to distract them, and while I’m doing that, you run back to the car.”

“What? That’s stupid. We should just open the door and holler at Melvin. He might just make us pay for the use of the tub—”

“Or, he’s pissed enough to call the cops and they call your parents to bail you out, thus proving your mother right.”

She paused, her cheeks draining of color. “Yeah, you better get your ass running, Skip.”

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