Page 90 of Pick-Up
We both look up the beach to where Stephanie is gesturing wildly in circular motions for me to switch positions.Damn.
“Ugh. I just got on successfully. Now I have to move?”
Ethan doesn’t even speak. He just looks at me with one eyebrow cocked like,Are you kidding me?
“Fine, fine.” I begin my struggle to get up so I can reapproach from the other side.
“You don’t have to do that,” he says. “Just climb over.”
Climb? I mean, this is getting worse by the minute. But what choice do I have? He’s right. This is the easier way. I flip around onto all fours, so now I’m facing Demon Dad cleavage first, crawling toward him like a chick from some eighties metal video.
I will not fall off. That is my one promise to myself. I don’t care if I have to cling for dear life upside down, if the thing flips. I will not, under any circumstances, hit the ground.
I begin to crawl unsteadily toward the other end, where Ethan is now propped up on his elbows watching me inch closer. And I’m doing just fine until I get cocky and speed up. I’m too close to the outer edge, and the hammock begins to teeter and tip, threatening to spill me onto the sand. Not on my watch!
To steady myself, I throw a hand toward the middle, making contact not with rope as intended but with something hard and warm. Ethan and I both turn toward my hand, which is resting on his substantial upper thigh. In a panic, I draw my palm back sharply, causing the whole apparatus to sway perilously.
“No!” I yelp.
“I got you,” Ethan says, grabbing my hand and pulling me up toward him so I won’t fall off the side. I don’t. But the momentum, and the feel of his hand on mine, throws off my balance in the other direction, and I land flat on top of him, chest to chest, hips on hips.
Instinctively, his hands come up around my rib cage, protecting me, as the hammock reverberates. And, for a stunned moment, we are frozen in that position. Him holding me against him.Fuck. He fits just right under me. Like the world’s most sinewy Tempur-Pedic mattress. And all my body wants is to snuggle in closer. My hands are itching to run their way over whatever bare skin they can reach. Luckily, my brain has the sense to flee.
When the hammock slows, I roll off of Ethan and lie, humiliated—but also buzzing—beside him. Sardines in a can.
“Well,” he says after a beat. “That was…”
“Graceful?”
“Hey, guys!” Stephanie shouts from the upper beach. “We’re just about ready, but we’re low on time. Can you get into a workable position? Ethan, maybe an arm around her? Sasha, put your head on his shoulder! Remember: you’re inlove!”
Ethan turns to me. We’re so close that we’re practically nose to nose. I can’t help but notice his lips, remember how they felt last night. It would be so easy to lean over and kiss them again.
“Hey,” he says quietly. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
I nod. I truly am. I am a grown woman. I can put whatever messy feelings aside for the sake of everyone involved. For the sake of their jobs and mine. This is Ethan. And, even though I haven’t known him long, I know I’m safe.
I raise my head, as he slides his arm under me, careful not to pullmy hair. And I turn my head into him. Because that’s what I’m supposed to do. I’m acting! I am most certainly not soaking in the scent of his hyper manly deodorant mixed with the smell of… well, him. He brings his hand to rest on my outer arm and squeezes lightly, affectionately. And I really can for a moment almost imagine that we’re that couple, on vacation without a care in the world.
“Great!” Charlie calls, cupping his hands like a megaphone so we’ll hear him. “But Sasha, can you turn your body so that you’re half facing him? I want the body language to feel intimate.”
Intimate. Right. I shift my body toward Ethan, so I’m facing him on my side. Then, throwing caution to the wind, I rest my hand on his chest and inch my thigh over his. Because that’s what someone in a couple would do. And also, now that I’ve had a quick taste, I’m curious about how the rest of his body feels. I want another taste.
“Sasha,” he sighs.
Ending me as always. I snuggle in closer, sigh back at him. His grip on my arm gets a little firmer.
“Perfect!” Charlie says. “Just like that.”
Now, I’m really in character. My heart is racing as I apply a little more pressure, moving my thigh farther onto his hip, toward his groin. Now that I suspect he’s a boob man, I let my arm fall against my chest, emphasizing my cleavage.
“Sasha,” he whispers, stealing a glimpse down at me. “We should stop.”
But I don’t. ’Cause I don’t wanna. I slide my stomach and chest all the way flush against him, my thigh all the way across his body. His hip presses firmly between my legs.
“Sasha, seriously,” he pleads. “I can’t take it. Not here.”
“Oh! You want me to move?” I tease, moving my leg against him. And that’s when I feel him get hard against my inner thigh.
