Page 47 of Enticing Her Love

He went after her, catching up a few steps from her potty hole and tugging her into his arms.

“Flynn,” she complained.

“You’re hungry and tired, which means you’re even more vulnerable to every danger out here. You can be sick of me or annoyed with me or pissed off at me. All of that is okay, but I’m still not going to let you put yourself in danger.”

She huffed out a breath. “No, I can’t be any of those things at you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t see you as a dick anymore. You’re protecting me even while I’m tired, hungry, and cranky.”

“Babe, please see me as a dick and use me to your heart’s content.”

She laughed and buried her face in his chest.

“There’s that smile I like so much.” He patted her ass. “Go pee. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

“Don’t listen,” she admonished.

“I know the rules.”

Her expression softened. “I’m sorry I’m crabby. My head hurts.”

“You haven’t had caffeine in two days, and after how much we sweated last night, you’re probably dehydrated. We’ll get you fixed up. You know,” he said playfully. “Orgasms are great for headaches.”

“If that were true, then I shouldn’t have a headache for a year.” She strode over to the hole in the ground. Her gaze shot back to him, surprise and delight shimmering in her eyes. “When did you put more flowers here?”

He’d done it after she’d fallen asleep last night. “I didn’t. It must be the poop-hole fairy.”

“I see your wings, Braden. You’re setting the bar pretty high. How is any other guy ever going to measure up?”

“If flowering your poop hole is your measure of male worthiness, we need to talk.” Just the thought of her with another guy pissed him off. But the fact that she was thinking about it? That cut like a knife.

“I SPEAK FIVE languages.” Flynn swatted a bug off his arm. “I was president of my high school science club, and the first time I kissed a girl I threw up.” It was late afternoon, and they were playing Two Truths and a Lie, and Sutton was doing an excellent job navigating as she led them back to camp after a great day.

The guayusa-leaf tea he had made for Sutton contained natural stimulants and had helped ease her headache, putting her in a much better mood. They’d foraged fruit for breakfast and had spent the morning exploring in the rain. They filmed monkeys, snakes, birds, insects, and lizards, medicinal trees, edible plants, and more. When it stopped raining, they’d gone to the waterfall and had ended up driving each other out of their minds. Twice. Sutton had lain in the sun with her head on his lap and had dozed off as he’d read Gulliver’s Travels to her. She’d needed the rest, and he found he loved those quiet, comfortable moments of closeness as much as their intimate ones. After more exploring, they’d returned to the river to catch fish for dinner before heading back to camp.

“That’s too easy,” she complained. “There’s no way you threw up the first time you kissed a girl.”

“Wanna bet?” He had no trouble sharing embarrassing stories about himself with her, which should feel uncomfortable, since he never shared personal stories with anyone. But he was having fun, and he was enjoying learning more about her, like how her favorite color was blue because she felt most at peace when she was near the water, that she’d lost her virginity in college to a guy she’d dated for a month, and her favorite season was fall because she had an affinity for sweaters. She looked damn good in them, too.

She glanced over her shoulder, amusement dancing in her eyes. “That’s a story I have to hear, but then what’s the lie?”

“I speak four languages, not five.”

She tossed him an eye roll and turned back, wielding the machete. “Tell me about the kiss. How old were you? Did you puke while you were kissing her? Because that would be gross.”

“I was thirteen, her name was Maggie Montrose, and no. Not while kissing her.”

“I need visuals. What did she look like?”

“She was cute. She had curly red hair and freckles, and she wore glasses. She always had a book with her, and I remember she dog-eared the pages. I gave her crap for that.”

“You were pushy at thirteen?”

“I guess so.”

She ducked around a branch. “So where did the kiss happen?”