Page 86 of Sand in My Boots

I ride it out, hissing, moaning, basking in the sensations filling me.

I’ve never experienced a high this strong. Not on my own. Not with anyone else.

While I come down, Cameron continues to kiss me. Slower, softer, lighter touches until he’s dragging his tongue up my torso, stopping before his mouth touches mine.

“Good start to the night.” My words are breathy, my eyes still sealed at the power racing through my veins.

“Only good?”

“Great,” I amend.

He shuffles to lie down next to me, the noise resounding in the room, and I quickly lay my head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. Lying like this won’t ever get old. Same as being in bed naked with him. We picked up where we left off, as if the past two weeks had never happened. As if we weren’t miserable without each other. Which says a lot about our connection right off the bat.

“We should talk.”

His words stall my fingers trailing up and down his chest. “Now? In bed? When I’m naked? That seems like a recipe for disaster.”

Right? Because “we should talk” is only ever followed by some sort of uneasy, and most often, difficult discussion between the two parties.

Reluctantly raising my head, I crane my neck so I don’t miss any nonverbal cues he gives away. His elbows splay behind his head, but his expression gives nothing away.

“On the balcony. We’ll order food to be delivered and bring out the coffee table so we have somewhere to set the food. Throw on some clothes.” He punctuates his statement with a head nod. “Oh, and magic up some condoms, would ya?”

“‘Magic up some condoms’? What does that mean?”

“Make them appear like last time. I’m not in the mood to go out and get some, but no way am I not taking you tonight.”

“I’m on the pill.” I can’t decide whether I should have said that aloud. An array of emotions dances across his face, ending on one akin to worry.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. So we’re protected that way.” I leave the rest unsaid. I haven’t been with anyone but him in months. Not sure he can say the same.

“Not sure that would be the end of the world . . .” he mumbles almost incoherently.

“Not the end of the world, but definitely world-shattering.” I haven’t stopped to consider an unwanted pregnancy in my life. When I was younger, I thought I’d be married with kids by thirty-two. Since I’m not, I’d want kids sooner rather than later when I meet the man I’m going to marry.

In no way am I prepared for this conversation in the slightest. Squashing these thoughts, I shimmy off him, out of bed, and over to my bag of clothes.

“How long are you staying?”

“Room’s booked for four nights.”

“That’s all?” Shock underscores his tone. “That throws a wrench into my plans.” His tone is sincere, as if he has plans for us. Elation blossoms in my chest at the thought. I have plans for us, too. We’re definitely on the same page.

“I’m sure we can work out some sort of deal to extend the stay . . .”

He answers before I’m done speaking. “Yes. Whatever we have to do. Don’t leave again.” Desperation replaces the concern. He adds, “This is why we need to talk.”

I don’t bother with undergarments. They’ll be in the way later. I pull on a T-shirt and sleep shorts and fix my messy knot. Now it’s just untidy. “What do you want to eat?”

“I was hoping you’d say burgers and steak fries. Maybe brownies for dessert.”

A moan echoes around the room. My moan. “I’ve been thinking about those brownies the whole time I was gone. The chocolate chips are the best added touch. Maybe you can hook me up with meeting the baker with your connections and all.”

“Top of my list, cutie. Top of my list,” he deadpans with a smug smile.

“I need coffee, too. Energy for later. How do I make those delicious ones we had on the beach appear?”