Page 93 of Cookout Carnage
Her head whipped around. ‘No!’
‘Sorry.’
‘Tris, you know I don’t.’ Her voice was strained.
He sighed. ‘Ignore me, I’m being an arse. I just can’t quite believe I’m here and you appear to tolerate me.’
Her hand reached across the centre console to rest on his thigh.
‘I tolerate you a lot,’ she said quietly.
He took his hand off the wheel to hold hers.
‘I tolerate you more, Hot Sauce,’ he replied.
They chatted about superficial subjects for the rest of the journey. She had the right to her secrets and he sure as shit didn’t feel ready to reveal his past. After half an hour he pulled off the road into a large parking area cut into the trees, the ground rough and dusty.
‘Is this a popular place?’ he asked, cutting the engine.
‘It can be. But not at eight o’clock in the morning.’
He turned to look at her. ‘Okay, so we should get the skinny-dipping out of the way first thing?’ Her gaze flicked to his lips as she blushed. ‘Where’s your—’
‘Sense of adventure?’ she finished. ‘Not in a holding cell waiting to be bailed out.’
She opened her door and leapt out. He followed, taking the bags. She went to take one and he shook his head.
‘You lead the way like a pioneer. I’m just your humble servant following with the silverware.’
She smiled. ‘You expecting payment?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m not expecting anything.’ He moved slowly so she was between him and the side of the car.
Her cheeks flushed, her mouth opened, and her eyes flicked to his lips, filling him with satisfaction.
‘But I will accept a good morning kiss.’
She didn’t hesitate, pulling his head down, bringing her mouth to his with a sigh.
He dropped the bags with a thud, and she was in his arms again, her legs wrapped around his waist, her tongue meeting his. Fire scorched where they touched, down his spine to his cock. His hands were inside her shorts, gripping her soft hot skin, feeling her undulating against him as the blood left his head with all rational thought.
A loud beeping broke them apart. A car drove past, the driver yelling at them to ‘get a room’. Tristan lowered Sherilyn carefully to the ground. She whimpered. He stepped back, the cooler morning air feeling raw against his skin, as if he was only whole with her wrapped around him. He stared at the sky, wishing he could summon spiritual assistance to keep his body and mind under control. Clearing his throat, he picked up the bags.
‘Right. Morning kiss out of the way. Now an invigorating hike, cold water shock therapy and a hearty breakfast.’ He squared his shoulders. ‘I’m ready.’
She looked at the uncomfortable bulge in his shorts and raised an eyebrow. ‘I can see,’ she replied.
He dipped his head and looked at her over the top of his glasses. ‘Hot Sauce,’ he growled.
She spun on her heel and flounced off into the trees, her delectable arse bouncing with every step. ‘Follow me,’ she called over her shoulder.
Always, he thought.
The trail wound gently upwards through the woods. With the ground dry, the going was easy. The sun had been up a few hours already, so they passed through cooler shadows, dappled shade, and shafts of brilliance that shone on Sherilyn as if revealing her divine nature. She was a goddess. She had captivated Tristan from the moment he saw her smile and heard her voice. A siren song that had reached him all the way from Chicago, and he’d obeyed its call. Now he was halfway across the Atlantic, putting all his eggs in one basket along with his heart and handing it over to someone who deserved more than him. Unsaid truths and worries about their age difference still snagged at his skin. He wanted to be his best self for her, the person he had worked so hard to become over the last decade.
‘You okay?’ she asked over her shoulder.
‘Huh? Yes, all good.’
