Page 73 of Just My Luck

“Which is…” Breathless, she did as he said.

“Lick you all over. Every inch. Starting with your neck, right here, this nook next to your collarbone.” Which just happened to be one of the most sensitive spots on her body. She squirmed with pleasure as he swirled his tongue across her skin.

“I’m a little sweaty from hiking through the jungle,” she whispered.

“Shhh. I like your sweat. It’s real. I forgot what real is. Nothing in my world has felt real for a long time. But you do. Why is that? Don’t answer.” He kept nibbling and kissing and licking as he spoke. Some of his words were nearly inaudible against her skin. “Two months ago, I wouldn’t have done this. I was a clean freak. Sex in a tent? Never. Now look at me, eating you up, sweat and all.”

She didn’t answer because she couldn’t. The pleasure he was generating put her into a kind of blissful other world. In this place, time moved differently, measured by sighs and new sensations. A shiver along her rib cage. A pulse in the back of her knee. A tingle in the arch of her foot.

“Lincoln,” she moaned. “Please, it feels too good.”

Through slitted eyes, she saw his smile of satisfaction. Amazing—this was all about her, and he looked completely fine with that. “That’s what I like to hear, my love,” he murmured.

My love? Had she heard that right? Or was that just a thing to say during sex? Those thoughts swam away like confused little fishies as he put his head between her legs and drew his tongue across her pulsing flesh.

To muffle her scream, she grabbed her pillow—which was just her hoodie balled up under her head—and stuffed it in her mouth. “Grmerhghiht,” she groaned into it.

Down there, she could feel him laughing. He held her thighs firm as he sucked on her clit until she wanted to shatter into a million rapturous pieces. His hair tickled the tender inner skin, a distracting sensation that sent stars dancing across her vision.

He kept her balanced on that edge between pleasure and need, between anticipation and explosion, until she couldn’t take it another moment. Her climax thundered through her body and sent her arching against his mouth. She made more incomprehensible sounds as she bucked like a wild rodeo horse. Lincoln managed to hang on for the whole ride, not losing the contact that made it so freaking good.

He was one determined man, she thought as she collapsed back onto the blanket. Panting, she pushed the hoodie away from her mouth; it was a slobbery mess by now.

He sat up, his erection forming the most erotic bulge in his briefs. He reached in and pulled it out. Big hands to match that other bigness, she thought nonsensically. She was still collecting her thoughts.

“Condom?” she whispered.

He shook his head. “Didn’t think to pack one.”

Fuck. She craved him inside her, but that was a bad idea without protection.

“Blow job it is, then.” With an impish smile, she shifted her position so she could reach his penis. “Although I did have occasion to get tested after my last boyfriend, and I’m sparkling clean and healthy.”

“As am I. But what about…”

Pregnancy. Of course. Neither of them wanted that. “You could just pull out before the big moment.”

“Not a guarantee of anything. Pullouts are an inferior way to avoid pregnancy. But…would it be so bad?”

She blinked at him in the starlight. “Excuse me?”

“Do you ever think about kids?”

“I think about them all the time, since I’m basically raising two of them.” Why was he talking like this? She and Lincoln were just living in the moment, enjoying their intense attraction to each other, nothing more than that.

“Your own, I mean.”

“You’ve seen what my life is like. Do you think I have time to bring in a newborn?” She touched his erection, figuring all this talk of pregnancy would be a huge buzzkill. She fully expected him to be going limp, but the opposite was true. His skin was hot and tight.

“But this would be different. The kid would be mine and I’d never walk away from my own child.” The blazing determination in his voice startled her. “I know what that feels like.”

“Hey,” she said softly. How had they gotten onto this topic? Somehow they’d shifted from hot lust to serious conversation. “Of course you wouldn’t. We’re not talking about⁠—”

“But what if I am?” he interrupted. He cupped her face in one hand and slid his thumb across her cheek. They were both sitting up, so close that energy vibrated between them. Her hand was on his erection, his hand around her face. “I think I am.”

“You are what?” she asked warily.

“Talking about us. You. Our future. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, Zara. I didn’t think I was capable of it. The world looks different to me now. It feels different. I feel different.”