Page 91 of Two-Step
She wrinkles her pert little nose. “Zero days.”
Zero days?And then I remember the hiking lingo. Zero days are ones when the weather is so bad, hiking is impossible. Or when a hiker gets sick on the trail and needs to rest in a hammock or tent. For one reason or another, zero days are usually miserable.
I cock a brow at her. “And you thought you’d need those today?”
Her smile breaks loose. “That’s the thing. It’s sort of a Murphy’s Law deal. If you pack the cards, you won’t need them... Half the time,” she adds, with a little tilt of her head.
I give her a mock scowl. “You were worried I’d bore you? And we’d have to resort to a game of Go Fish?”
Her brows leap. “No, quite the opposite. You’d get tired after a few hours of my company and need to disappear in a game of solitaire.”
My laughter booms through the forest. “You’ve got to be joking.” I toss my peach pit into the woods. A lucky raccoon will clean his teeth on it later.
She’s put on a smile, but she gives a self-effacing shrug. Her peach pit sails just as far as mine. “You can’t be too careful.”
My eyes zero in on her blush. I roll onto one elbow, reach over, and nudge her pack aside. “Never.”
Her eyes narrow in confusion. “Never what?”
“I’d never need that deck of cards.”
Her eyes dance with questions. I don’t answer them. I don’t tell her that time moves too fast when I’m with her. That all of our dance lessons feel like they last fifteen minutes instead of ninety. That I’d be a better teacher if I let her dance with Ramon every time so I could stand back and observe, guiding her where needed. But I don’t let her dance with Ramon because I want her dancing with me.
I don’t tell her that I’ve caught myself thinking of idiotic reasons to call her on the days when we have no lessons. I don’t tell her that I would have done anything with her today. Taken her grocery shopping. Watched Disney on Ice. Robbed a bank.
Okay, I would have tried to talk her out of that one. But you get my point. Judging by the look on Iris’s face, however, she doesn’t. I turn my hand palm up, outstretched toward her to make it clear.
“Lie down with me.”
Her lips part on a startled breath, but she doesn’t hesitate. As soon as she slips her hand into mine, I tug her against me and close my eyes because—
Damn, that feels good.
I let my lips find her neck, and when they do, she gives the most irresistible little sigh. I kiss and taste her, working my way to her mouth. Her lips and tongue taste of peaches, burn like fever. Lying with her body pressed against me, I’m instantly hard.
Iris’s hands are in my hair, her short nails grazing my scalp. I cradle her in one arm and run my free hand behind her ear down her neck. She shivers in my embrace. I want to touch her everywhere. I want to make her shiver again.
I want to make her come.
But I don’t know what’s allowed, so I let her lead how we touch. Still, I kiss her. I kiss her the way I want to make love to her. Showing her what I want to do with my tongue. Promising with every lap and flick that I know how to take care of her. That her pleasure is my drug.
And my intention can’t be lost on her, because her breath speeds up, and she swings a leg over my hip. The temptation to roll her beneath me and grind into her is so great it makes my teeth ache, but I want her driving this, so instead, I roll onto my back, bringing her on top of me.
We let out twin moans as soon as she seats herself astride me, the length of my rock-hard erection pressing against her heat. Iris’s hands smooth down my chest, making my breath go choppy. Her fingers breach the hem of my T-shirt and press against the scorching skin of my abs. Taking this as permission, I slide mine just under her top. I put my hands right to her waist, right where I’ve touched her before, but this time, my thumbs caress her bare belly.
I moan at the feel of her silky warmth and bring my lips to her ear. “I’ve wanted this,” I confess. “I’ve wanted to touch you here with nothing between us.”
Her answering moan is high and soft. “You don’t—” Her breath hitches. “You don’t know how good that feels.”
She grinds against me, and synapses in my brain burn up and ascend like paper lanterns. My hands move in the only direction that makes any sense now.
Down.
I grip the firm swell of her ass, the clinging sport leggings so thin I nearly lose what’s left of my mind.
“Oh, God, Beau,” she pants, and that’s all the urging I need. My fingertips slip beneath the waistband of her pants as she grips my waist.
I can make her come with my fingers right now.With my mouth after that. And—
