Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
His mouth sucked her neck, his hips shifted forward and away, grinding so good, and even through the boxers—the pair he wore, the pair of his she wore—it was enough. No, not just enough. It was perfect, he was exactly what she remembered, exactly what she’d needed. Moving together like this, Lily felt the pleasure stretching, and shoved her hands beneath the fabric of his boxers, cupping his backside, pulling and urging him harder, faster, and his mouth came to hers, open and soft and distracted. Could anything but love tear her into pieces so quickly? With a flush across her skin, pleasure seared through her, warm and metallic, flooding her vision with spots of light until she slowed to a breathless stop beneath him.
Leo stilled. “Did you?”
Nodding, she pulled him forward, urging, and Leo’s breath was hot on her chin, his sounds turned broken and tight. Lily reached up, digging her hands into his hair, dragging her teeth along his jaw, and his deep groan cut through the tent, vibrating in her bones. He jerked away, reaching between them, coming with a shaking moan.
In the deep silence that followed, her head was full of laughing gas; her heart felt like a wild creature had spawned in her chest cavity. Leo braced above her, breathless, and she ran lazy hands up his sides, counting ribs with her fingertips.
He let out a raspy laugh, lowering himself to rest on his elbows, half of his body out of the sleeping bag. “Holy shit.” He reached for his pack, digging in. Lily cleaned up with the disposable wipe he handed her while he unzipped the sleeping bag a bit, letting some cool air wash over their heated skin.
“That was some quick thinking,” she said, tossing the wipe somewhere in the tent.
“I have two pairs of boxers, and you’re wearing one of them,” he reminded her, catching his breath. “Somehow that realization penetrated at the critical moment.”
With the sleeping bag unzipped, he had room to collapse onto his back, and ran a hand down his chest, groaning.
“You okay?” she asked.
Eyes closed, he mumbled a quiet, happy sound, rolling back into her and throwing a heavy arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. “Come here.”
But Lily was suddenly wide awake. How was she supposed to manage this feeling growing like a vine inside? She was elated and scared and anxious and relieved and still deeply, deeply turned on. The shape of him moving against her felt like a physical echo. She was suddenly insatiable, pressing her face to his neck, feeling the throb of his pulse, wanting inside him somehow. Wanting him inside her.
Leo.
Lovesick City Boy.
All over again, she couldn’t believe he was really here. He smelled like sweat and soap, like the sagebrush-filled air of the canyons. She wanted his hands on her skin, his mouth moving frantically everywhere. She was aware of every point of contact between their bodies: her face to his neck, their naked chests pressed together, their hips, her leg wound around his muscular thigh. The memory of the sound he made when he came echoed in her cranium. And had anything ever been sexier than the way his labored breaths expanded and contracted the wide expanse of his rib cage?
God, she was a mess.
Lily pulled back, running a hand up his chest. He’d always been game for round two.
“Hey,” she whispered, waiting. And then: “Leo?”
His lips parted and she felt her desire rise, anticipating the sound of his voice.
But instead, a quiet snore rumbled from his throat.
Chapter Twenty-Two
LEO AWOKE TO the sensation of Lily wiggling her way out of the sleeping bag and frantically whispering, “Shit, shit, shit.”
He rolled to his stomach, eyes blurry but not so blurry that he missed the view of her scrambling to find the shirt he’d pulled off her and thrown aside.
“Hey,” he croaked.
Startled, she wrapped a forearm across her chest, wrestling her way into the T-shirt. Her hair was insane, like she’d just wrapped a palm around a plasma globe. Her right cheek was bright pink from where it had been pressed to him, and her answering “Hey” was abrupt and stressed out.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Lily lifted her chin. “Look at your watch.”
He dragged a heavy arm out of the sleeping bag and blinked down. “Shit.”
“Yeah.”
Somehow the morning had blown right past them. It was after nine thirty.
“I have no idea how we slept so long,” she said.
“Warm and comfy.”
“You were out.” She shoved her hair behind her ears. “Such a dude.” And then she ducked out of the tent.
He followed her and stretched in the morning sun. Wearing nothing but boxers, soaking in the desert air on his bare skin felt fucking amazing.
His balled-up pants hit him directly in the face, and Leo caught them before they fell to the ground. “It appears you’d like me to put these on,” he said dryly.