Page 32 of Lost With You
“But once these cards are dealt,” he added, lifting the deck, “there’s no folding.”
“Stop talking.” Her voice crowded to the top of her mouth. “Start dealing.”
He swept up the cards with his big, strong hands. A muscle jumped by his jaw as he formed the cards into a deck, not bothering to count to ensure he’d retrieved them all. She glimpsed the two of hearts canted against the tent wall behind him, but said nothing. It seemed apropos that they would be playing with less than a full deck.
With a flick of his wrist, he dealt. She picked up her cards, but hardly saw the pips through a haze of excitement. She threw three cards down, and he dealt her three more. He barely glanced at his hand as he did the same for himself.
She eyed him as she laid her cards between them. “A pair of kings.”
He tossed his hand aside. “I got nothing.”
She pressed her thighs tight as he reached for the back of his collar. She’d seen his broad, hard upper body outlined in a soaked T-shirt. She’d seen him shirtless, too, but never with purpose. Ducking his head, he pulled off his shirt and tossed it away, straightening up with a hand on his thigh to let her drink her fill. His well-planed chest expanded as he stole the air from her lungs. She bit her lower lip, imagining that body sliding against hers.
Was it getting steamy in here?
“Another hand,” he said, gathering the cards.
Rain pattered on the tent roof. Thunder growled. Her head swam as she picked up the second hand of cards. Damn, she had three of a kind. She sucked on her lip, debating, and then tossed those three eights into the discard pile. Dragging up the three cards he dealt to replace them, she glanced at them only long enough to realize, with a curl of delight, that she had an empty hand.
He laid down a pair of fours, and she discarded her cards.
His face lit up in tight anticipation.
She raised the hem of her T-shirt and yanked it off. Her hair fell over her shoulders in a tangle. Her sports bra covered too much, armor against Dylan’s hungry gaze.
“It doesn’t seem fair,” she said, as she dug her fingers under the hem of the bra. “I shouldn’t be wearing more clothes than you.”
She dragged the tight-fitting garment over her head. Her breasts slid free, nipples tightening in the chill. She tossed the bra aside and ran her fingers through her hair to push it off her face, arms raised, breasts pouting.
One side of his mouth slid up in appreciation, and with a slow lift of his lids, he gave her a wolf’s grin. Her inner muscles clenched. She waited for him to deal another hand, but he made no move to gather the cards.
He said, “Still want to play?”
“We’ve only just begun.” She unfolded her crossed legs and slid them across the splayed cards to wiggle her toes against his shin. “But I’m done with the cards.”
He keeled forward, knocking the lantern over as he slapped a hand beside her hip. The fingers of his other hand scraped against her scalp as he sealed her lips with a kiss.
And then she was tumbling, tumbling, falling as if over the gunwale of the canoe, diving deep, breathless and underwater, the world muffled, senses kicked alive. Tethered only by his hungry lips, she floated, weightless, lost completely as the world canted around her. Her head gently hit the floor of the tent, and Dylan raised his face from hers.
She blinked up into those blue eyes as if she were sputtering out of the river. Lightning lit up the tent. He was suspended above her by one hand, powerfully big. He pulled his other hand from under her head to brace himself more securely, only inches above her.
He slid down to lie by her side, trailing his hand across her abdomen. “I’m calling your last hand, Casey.”
Her belly tightened at the feel of his fingers working the button of her jean shorts. Using the pressure of the back of his hand, he forced the zipper open.
He whispered, “Show me everything.”
She raised her bottom, offering him room to maneuver. His nostrils flared as he sat up, grabbed the waist of her shorts and dragged them, along with her tangling black thong, down the length of her legs. She pointed her toes to make it easier for him to set her free of clothes. The cool, storm-stirred air traced breezy ripples over her nakedness, and so did his hungry gaze as he ran her thong between his fingers and looked her over. She shifted, basking under his admiration, wallowing for a moment in the pleasure of feeling so naked, so very wanted.
“A pair of aces,” he murmured, dropping her underwear. “And me with an empty hand.”
He cupped one breast, squeezing gently as her nipple rose to a point. A moan escaped her as he scraped a thumb across the peak, back and forth, back and forth, little shooting sensations driving deep between her legs.
He settled into position beside her, watching her face as he rolled her nipple between his fingers. “You’ve got a flush, Casey.”
She reached over to grasp the hardness tenting his swim trunks. “And you’ve got a straight.”
He jerked and made a sound in the back of his throat as she squeezed. His member throbbed against her hand. She curled her legs up as she imagined him inside her. The pressure between her thighs wasn’t nearly enough for satisfaction.
