Page 91 of Thrown for a Loop
“I have no experience, okay? None.” She crosses her arms overher chest and flushes even more deeply. “But I want to be here. With you. Tonight.”
“Okay,” he says softly. “Still. We don’t have to—”
“Oh yes wedo,” she says firmly. “Unless you don’t, um, want to.”
He lets out a strangled laugh. “Thatwon’t be our issue. Trust me.” He gives her a cheesy wink and then puts a hand on her knee. “I just want you to be comfortable.”
“Fuck comfortable,” she says, and he instantly loses a hundred brain cells just watching her pretty mouth sayfuck. “You and I don’tdocomfortable. We go after the things we care about. And I care aboutyou.”
Damn. His body fizzes with heat as he leans over to give her a soft kiss. Just for saying that.
Except it’s not a soft kiss, because she grabs him by the shoulders and gives it right back to him.
A minute later they’re hardcore making out, and his body goes from zero to sixty faster than a muscle car. He has a few vague thoughts about the proximity of the back seat before he gets control of himself and sits back. “Okay, let’s find tent number eight,” he says, his voice more broken and desperate than he was shooting for.
“Let’s,” she agrees.
Outside, he takes a minute to unload all his supplies and calm down. Even though Zoe made her wishes clear, he’s not going to maul her like a beast.
He’s brought along some drinks and snacks, and a lantern he picked up at Walmart. But it all seems so pathetic now. Zoe wants to give him everything. It’s a big deal. And he’s brought her to a tent in the middle of nowheresville. It looked okay on the website. But if this place is sketchy, he’ll never forgive himself.
“Can I carry something?” Zoe asks.
“No, beautiful. I got it.” He locks the truck. “Let’s see this place.”
They find a marker for number eight and follow a narrow path through the trees and the undergrowth. It isn’t very long until they’re stepping into a clearing with a wooden platform in the center, about a foot off the ground. On top of that rises a huge safari tent with canvas “walls” that stretch to a peak at the top. And there’s a soft glow of light coming from inside.
Welcome C. Merrittreads a tiny blackboard propped next to the canvas doors.
“Wow,” Zoe says, stepping up to lift one of the tent flaps. “Oh, there’s a mosquito net.” She crouches down to unzip the door. “This is really neat. Come and see.”
He follows her into the tent, which is tall enough for him to stand up in the center. There’s an ornate carpet underfoot and a real platform bed set against a paneled wall in the center of the space. The bed is done up in white sheets and a fluffy comforter. There are two bedside tables as well, with flameless candles flickering in jars on each one. “Okay. This will do.”
She turns to him with an incredulous smile. “Be real. It’smagical.” She walks around the bed and peers behind the wooden wall and gasps. “This tent has abathroom, Chase.” She laughs.
“Yeah, it said something about that.”
She returns a minute later to stand in front of him. She takes the cooler and the lantern out of his hands and sets them against one of the canvas walls. Then she zips up the mosquito netting, closing them into the space. “You can stop worrying now.”
He opens his mouth and then closes it again. Because he can’t, in fact, stop worrying. The tent is nice, but this isZoehe’s here with, and she deserves everything. He wonders if he’s up to the job.
She stands in front of him again, hands warm against his chest. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” he manages. “I’m great.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” she says, standing up on her toes and kissing him once. “Because I’ve been told all my life that boys only want one thing. And I think I’ll ask for my money back if it isn’t even true.”
A laugh tugs loose from his chest, and he cups her face with both hands. “You kill me. You know that?”
She shrugs, a smile playing at her lips. Then she gathers the fabric of his T-shirt in her hands. He lifts his arms overhead so she can pull it off. And now he’s standing there, half naked. Hoping he passes muster.
He hasn’t felt this exposed for a long time.
She puts a smooth hand on his bare chest and runs it across his skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake. “Where’d you get this scar?” she asks as her fingertips graze the spidery white lines near his collarbone.
It’s not a nice story, though, so he jokes his way out of it. “Shark attack.”
She grins. Then she leans forward to drop soft kisses along his jaw, and he nearly groans.
