Page 34 of Lost With You
She ran a fingertip across his chin. “We should play this game more often, Dylan.”
“We should have played it a week ago.”
She let that lie, hoping the dopey post-sex smile stretched across her face would shield her uncertainty. Waiting had been the more prudent course, but she was sure glad they were sharing their bodies now.
“I should have known you would bring condoms.” She trailed a finger across the strong, wide stretch of his clavicle as he lifted himself up on an elbow. “You’re such a Scout. Always prepared.”
“I had high hopes.”
“How high?”
He leaned back, questioning.
“I mean, how many condoms did you bring? Do you think we’ll have enough?”
He gifted her that wolf’s grin again, and her lady parts responded. What a hunk of man, hot as sin.
He said, “So this isn’t a one-off.”
“Hell no. We won’t be getting much sleep.”
“Keep talking like that,” he murmured, lowering his head, “and we won’t have enough condoms for tonight.”
“Promises, promises…oh!”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Day eleven dawned bright and wet. Dylan came awake with his face buried in Casey’s hair. She lay curled up against him, breathing deeply, sound asleep. He listened to her breathing for a while, part of him hoping it would hitch, before he carefully slipped out from under the zipped-together sleeping bags. Flinging the flap of the tent aside, he climbed into the glory of the morning wearing nothing but a yawn. Iridescence sheened the water dripping off the trees. Sunrise painted the wisps of clouds. He stood under the open sky and filled his lungs with the late summer air, like the utter, absolute, undisputed king of the world.
Face upturned, eyes closed, he unleashed images of the night. His head filled with the perfume of her skin, the hollow of his hand went warm as if cupped again against the curve of that perfect ass. She’d been so playful, so uninhibited. He remembered each shout when she’d climaxed. How tightly her sex had slid over his cock, rising already. How easily she’d snuggled into him when they were finally slaked.
She’d felt so damn good.
That mind-numbing pleasure gripped him. He wanted her again, but banked the urge to slip back into the tent to gently fuck her awake. They’d both been edgy and restless since the first day they’d met, and Casey needed the sleep. They had time.
Striding to the river, he crouched and plunged his hands into the cool water to put a chill on his thinking. Rivulets ran down his chin, down his neck, soaking his chest. He raked his wet hands through his hair and waded deep enough to dive for a swim to the other bank. The rush of adrenaline fueled his strokes as he fought the current. He rose out of the water a while later, feeling more brightly alive than he had in a long, long time.
She’d done this to him.
He couldn’t think about why.
He busied his hands and his mind by fetching breakfast from the bin in the canoe, gathering what dry tinder he could find, and starting a smoky fire. The tinge of gold in the clouds had cleared by the time he’d boiled water and brewed coffee. When he couldn’t hold back any longer, he ducked into the tent and drew in the aphrodisiac scent of sex and woman. Soft light filtered through the nylon as he fell to his knees at the end of the sleeping bag. She shifted and raised half-lidded eyes.
“Is it dawn already?” She sat up, hair falling across her face.
“Past dawn, Casey.” Gone was her this-is-all-business vibe. Gone were the back-off signs. She looked so kittenish and vulnerable his heart squeezed.
Her lips parted as her gaze focused. “You’re naked.”
“So are you.” Her sleeping bag sagged, revealing those pert, perfectly formed breasts.
“I made coffee,” he said, his voice going hoarse. “Breakfast, too.”
A sleepy smile played around her mouth. “Tell me you made bacon. French toast. Fresh-squeezed orange juice?”
“How about oatmeal?”
She grimaced.
