Page 86 of His to Save

“You ready for some s’mores?” he asks, nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck.

“Mm, yeah.” I drag my lips over his temple and down his cheek. He pulls back and turns into me, meeting my mouth with his in a kiss that’s over too soon.

“You test me like no other, Pip,” he groans, moving me off his lap.

I’m ninety percent positive he means that sexually, and if so, then I’m not sure I see the problem. “And?” I emphasize my question with what I hope is a cheeky grin.

I don’t know if it’s pregnancy hormones, anticipation of knowing how tonight will end, or a combination of both—but I’m turned on like never before.

My brain and body almost feel like a dang roller coaster with how fast they both go from one extreme to the other. Happy to sad to crying to horny all in the blink of an eye.

Honestly, it’s exhausting, going from one extreme to the other. But like the good guy he is, Atlas takes it all in stride.

“Nora, hey.” Atlas waves a marshmallow in front of my face, effectively snapping me out of my wandering thoughts. “You didn’t hear anything I said, did you?”

I can feel my cheeks heat as I nod. “Sorry. Say it again?”

“I asked how toasted you want your marshmallow.”

“Oh.” I glance away from him to the fire. “I’m not sure. It’s been… at least ten years since I’ve…” I trail off, not wanting to bring the mood down any more than it already is. “How do you like yours?”

“Totally charred on the outside.”

I wrinkle my nose, but nod anyway. “Okay, I’ll take mine like that, too.” It doesn’t really sound good, but I won’t know unless I try it.

Atlas chuckles under his breath as he spears two marshmallows.

I watch intently as he pulls them from the flame, and then sandwiches the gooey marshmallows between two graham crackers, along with a square of chocolate.

“What do you think?” he asks, a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

I bring the s’more to my mouth, but the smell alone makes me hesitate. It’s this weird combination of bitter and sweet.

But still, Atlas says it’s good, so I force an exhale and bite into it.

I try to school my reaction, but it’s no use.

“Not a fan, huh?” he asks, amusement evident in both his tone and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

“It’s…” I frown and set the s’more down. “Interesting.” And by that I mean gross. It’s like ash-crusted sugar goo mixed with chocolate.

“Let me try again?” he asks.

“Last chance,” I whisper, shooting him what I hope is a teasing smile.

He assembles another s’more for me, but instead of handing it over like I expect, he beckons me closer. “C’mere, Pip.”

I scoot closer, so our knees are touching, but Atlas simply pats his thigh.

“What are you up to?” I murmur, narrowing my eyes.

“Come find out.” Those three words are somehow a promise and a dare, and before I know it, I’m rising to meet it, scrambling onto his lap. “Good girl.”

I don’t know why, but his softly spoken praise has me feeling all kinds of squirmy.

“Now, open.” He taps my bottom lip with his index finger.

Wordlessly, I do as he says. As I wait for him to make his next move, I realize just how much I trust him. I know he has my best interest at heart and that even if he pushes my boundaries a little, he’ll never,everhurt me.

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