Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
Noah groans, lifting us a few inches out of the water as he fights to bring us closer, his eagerness in line with my own.
“Careful, Juliet,” he warns, steeling my hips with his large, firm hands. “I’m about to lose my gentleman’s card here.”
“Could you hurry up with that?”
He chuckles into my mouth, and I push my tongue inside his, swallowing the rumble that follows. He whips us around, splashing through the water until we’re at the edge of a rock. He presses my ass against it, his hands leaving my body so he can grab hold of my cheeks, making me dizzy with his kiss.
I lean back, taking him with me, and then something glides along the bottom of my foot, and I squeal, jumping backward.
Noah tears back, eyes wide and flying across my face
“Oh my god, a fish is trying to eat me!” I yelp, scurrying farther up the rock, and as I plant my hand down once more, something tickles the tips of my knuckles. I yelp again, jumping down, only to sink up to my neck.
Noah starts busting up laughing, turns, and hauls me up on his back as he takes us to the edge.
It’s only seconds before I’m laughing uncontrollably, and as we hit the cold, dry ground, I drop back onto a tree log, my face falling into my hands.
“Ugh!” I can’t simmer myself down and Noah’s as entertained as I am. “I swear a fish sucked my toe!”
He rubs his mouth to quiet his laughter. “And your hand?”
“Okay, that might have been a leaf or something.” His head falls back with laughter. “In the moment, I was positive it was the loch ness monster!” I grin, shaking my head.
“She swims in shark waters with ease, but a tiny tadpole? Forget about it.”
I scowl at him playfully, and a small chill runs over me, the mountain breeze having rolled up over the rocks.
“We should head back, get changed.” Noah slips his shoes on, stuffing his socks into his pockets, and picks up mine.
He spins again, reaching over his shoulder for my hand, so I stand, giving it to him. Once again, he hauls me onto his back and carries me all the way back to camp.
As we step into the clearing, a few people glance our way.
“What in the actual hell?” Brady shouts, his beer frozen at his lips.
“We fell in a pond,” I joke.
“Uh-huh, vagina first or what?” He pops a brow.
Mason slaps the back of his head. “What the fuck, bro?” He glares from him to us, but Brady simply laughs and goes back to his conversation.
Mason’s glare deepens, but I too look away, and Noah keeps moving toward the row of tents.
“Cameron is going to kill me if I get our beds wet.” I grin, tightening my hold around his neck.
“Wanna change in my truck? It’s blocked by Brady’s.” He stops walking, glancing over his shoulder. “We can walk back, ask her to get you some clothes really fast?”
My teeth clatter. “Okay.”
Despite my response, Noah keeps moving straight, his pace picked up a little more. Thirty seconds later, I’m sitting on his tailgate and he’s tearing into the cab of his truck, coming back with a pile of clothes in his hands.
“These are compression pants. I wear them under my gear when it’s cold. They might be a little loose, but they’ll fit you better than my sweats.” He sets a T-shirt and hoodie beside me, a pile of dry clothes for himself bunched under his arm.
He pushes his shoes to the side, doing a double take when I lift my arms and wait.
His brows draw together slightly, the items in his arms quickly forgotten. He lets them fall to the ground and steps toward me.
He starts at the cuff of my sleeves, gently tugging them over my wrists, and moves to the hem next. The wet material has molded to my T-shirt beneath it, so as he slowly lifts it up and over my head, it takes it with it.
My wet hair falls to my bare back then, sending a shiver down my spine, or maybe it’s the beaming approval in Noah’s gaze that does it. He doesn’t look away as he hangs my wet items over the side of his truck, nor when I lean back, my palms pressing into the tailgate, my torso stretching.
He understands, his jaw flexing with his heavy inhale as his hands find the button of my jeans.
My pulse pounds as it’s popped open, the soft hum of my zipper creating goosebumps along my legs. He waits, eyes on me, so I lift my hips in request, and he answers, cautiously freeing me of them altogether.
His arms fall to his sides, his body going still as he peers at me, his expression a pensive mix of uncertainty and conviction.