Page 180 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
“What is that?” I whisper.
A masked face emerges from the pile. A raccoon. Its paws are deep in my jeans, tugging them as if it found a treasure chest.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I swim toward the bank. “Hey, get out of here!”
My feet touch the ground, and I stand. As the water comes down my front, the cool air nips my bare breasts.
I freeze as the weight of my nakedness hits me. I sink deeper in the water, my arms instinctively clutching my front. There’s no way I can go charging at a raccoon looking like this.
“Get off my clothes!” My yell is a little too shrill.
The raccoon snatches up my jeans and scampers back toward the trees. I look around, frantic, and that’s when I see them. A whole army of raccoons, emerging from the deep grass. They’re holding everything—my top, his pants, my underwear, my bra—all in their grubby paws.
“Oh, hell no.” I splash water at Hart. “Get over there and get our stuff.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“My lack of clothing.” The words come through gritted teeth. “There’s a whole damn family. All our stuff is gone.”
He holds back a grin as his eyes shift to the rapidly disappearing raccoons. Without a word, he splashes through the water. His wet body glistens in the moonlight. His muscles flex with each stride. And—oh Lord—I catch a fleeting glimpse of his ass cheeks before he disappears into the night.
My cheeks burn hotter, suddenly hyperaware of my own nakedness.
“Get them!” I shout, even though I’m pretty sure it’s too late.
His body is a naked blur as he runs, closing in on the long grass. His bare feet slap against the ground, and he storms into the grass.
“That’s not a good idea,” I yell at him. “You can’t see the ground.”
I rise for a better look, my arms hugging my front. I can’t see anything either.
Moments later, the grass shifts and he steps back through it. As he struts closer, I sink further into the water.
He’s still dripping wet from the chase, water trickling down his body. Moonlight brushes over him, turning his bare body into something half dream, half nightmare.
His cock hangs, soft and resting against his thigh. Not that I should even notice or be glancing down there. Not when I’m cowering in the water, half-hiding, with every bit of me tucked safely beneath the surface.
His hands are empty. Like that’s where I’m looking. He stands before me with an unapologetic nakedness that leaves me both captivated and unsettled. It’s an intimacy I’m not prepared for, and yet, I find myself unable to look away.
“Anything?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
He shakes his head.
“Where are the clothes you bought?”
“Gone.”
“Gone?”
He nods and if I were closer I’d punch him in the stomach again.
“Stopping here was a great idea,” I snicker, forgetting the truce we made not fifteen minutes ago.
He smirks at my snappiness or the flushed embarrassment that follows.
