Page 50 of Pictures in Blue
“But whatever this is,” she gestures between us, “it stays in the woods. Okay? I’m here to figure out my life, and you’re not in the plan. If the plan was the Cliffs of Insanity, you’d be the boat sailing in the opposite direction as fast and as far as you could.”
Ouch. I flinch.
She doesn’t meet my eyes, and a part of me feels like she doesn’t agree with the words she’s saying. But, I’ll respect her wishes. Even if it hurts.
I smirk. “But who would be there to rescue you from the Dread Pirate Roberts?”
That earns me another glare. Her most daunting yet. “I don’t need rescuing.”
I take a different approach. “So what you’re saying is, we never leave the woods?” I raise my eyebrows, hoping she takes the bait and bites back.
She gives me a mischievous look, leaving whatever thought she had behind. “In your dreams, Waters.”
“Oh, I hope so.” Another glare. I’ve pushed too far, so I backtrack, hands raised in surrender. “Alright, alright. Whatever this is…was, stays here.”
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“As you wish.”
Heat rushes to her cheeks before she turns away and tries to shove the last half of the sleeping bag sticking out of the pack, taking the leaves that were stuck to the bottom with it. She slings the bag over her shoulders once it’s packed and starts limping her way down the path, her eyes focusing on anything but my bare chest.
“You think you’re going to make it all the way back limping like that?” I call after her.
She doesn’t turn around. “How else am I supposed to get back?”
Right on cue, she stumbles and I rush to her side to catch her, one hand on her waist covered by my shirt and the other right under her armpit. Or, more accurately, right next to her breast. My fingers graze the side of it and it is my turn for heat to rise in my face. I quickly move my hand, just not in the direction my bodyreallywants it to go and turn away from her, crouching down until my back is low enough for her.
“Hop on.”
“Excuse me?”
“Hop on,” I repeat.
“You’re going to carry me? All the way back?” She says clearly doubting my ability or strength or whatever it would take to get her back to the inn.
“I’ve had to carry my dogs through worse, I’ll be fine. C’mon. Hop on,” I say again. To my surprise she follows my directions without any more questions. She wraps her legs around my lower back, my forearms resting under her knees and her arms around my neck.
Fuck, I wish I had my shirt. The contact of our skin sends more thoughts to my head I have to force out. She does not belong there and as much as I want to follow the direction of those thoughts, play out what her body does to mine, how mine reacts to hers clinging to my back, I am not going to let myself go there.
Not until she wants me to.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
AVERY
Yep. He definitely got sideboob when he tried to catch me. While he carries me—on the same out-and-back trail we hiked yesterday—I try as hard as I can to not think about how good it felt to have his hand there and how much I wish he had moved it in the opposite direction. After Ijusttold him I basically wanted nothing to do with him. Now, there isn’t a part of my body that isn’t touching his and I am aware of every single point of contact between our bodies.
With every step he takes, the muscles in his back flex and touch the very center of me, making it sensitive and driving me absolutely insane.
I try to focus on anything else. The trees.What type are these? Pine? Oak? What kind of oak? White or red? Is that sassafras we just passed? If I crumpled it, would I smell the familiar scent of Fruit Loops and be transported back to my childhood?
The way I completely panicked earlier and all of the sudden decided to make a deal to be just friends? Stupid. I don’t want that. From the way my body is pulsating, she definitely doesn’t want that either. Nope, don't want to think about it. Must invade my mind with anything other than Hudson’s muscles flexing underneath me.
Uhhhhh, weeds! Yes, lots of weeds. So many weeds. Are there different species of weeds? Probably. I wonder if weeds are poisonous. This is working. Definitely not thinking about the strong grip Hudson has under my knees. I never realized how sensitive that part of my body was. But, apparently, right now, it’s the most sensitive part of me. The way his fingers dig in with just enough pressure. Not enough to hurt, but enough to keep his grip firm and steady. I wonder what the pressure of his fingers would feel like elsewhere, replacing the warmth of his back between my legs, opening with one, exploring with another…
NO!
Weeds. Does poison ivy count as a weed, or is that an actual plant? Is there poison ivy around?That does it. The feeling of Hudson beneath me is quickly replaced by fear. My fear of contracting the red, itchy rash.
