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His thumb strokes my cheek as his warm tongue glides across mine, unleashing the wild beast inside me. Before I can stop myself, I tackle him to the ground, straddling his hips and pinning him to the forest floor.
Liquid heat floods my center as I settle over the hardness cradled between my thighs. Dash swells beneath me as he grips my hips and guides my movements.
“Oh God. Do that again,” I whisper, digging my fingers into his shoulders and grinding my pelvis against his, chasing the tingles wherever they lead.
His head falls back, and a low groan works its way up his throat. “Fuuuck!”
My thoughts exactly.
“What are we doing?” he mutters, bringing his lips back to mine. “You don’t really want our first time to happen on the cold hard ground, do you?”
I manage a breathy “no” but continue rocking my center against his growing erection. I know I should stop. He’s right. I’d much rather our first time happened in a comfy bed, but the insistent throb between my thighs demands attention, and I’m too far gone for regrets. I snake a hand between us, palming him through his jeans.
A deep shudder runs through him, and he groans. “Zoey, no.” His erection twitches as he wraps his fingers around my wrist and stills my hand. “Not here.”
His words wash over me like a bucket of cold water, and I jerk back.
“Don’t you dare,” he whispers before claiming my lips in another toe-curling kiss.
Every sweep of his tongue sends ribbons of heat dancing down my spine and my stomach plummeting. He weaves his fingers into the tangled lengths of my hair and angles my head for a deeper, almost feral, kiss, making my head swim from lack of oxygen.
Out of breath, he rests his forehead against mine. “I want you so damn bad, I can barely think straight.”
My lips part, my heart thundering in my ears. “Dash . . .”
“Just maybe not right here.” He plucks a sharp rock from under his lower back and chucks it into the trees. “We should . . .” His gaze darts to the tent.
That’s all the invitation I need. I jump from his lap and grab his hand. “Thought you’d never ask.”
Halfway to the tent, Mom’s voice whispers through my thoughts like a little angel perched on my shoulder, effectively kicking sand on the flames lashing my insides. Are you being safe, Zoey?
I slow my steps and let out a long sigh. Despite the fact that I’ve been on birth control since I was sixteen, she’s right. There’s no such thing as being too safe.
Dash tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, and I feel his touch everywhere. “Something wrong?”
“Um . . .” My cheeks heat as I fumble for the right words. “You were a Boy Scout, right?”
A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Pretty sure none of my badges covered this.”
“That’s not what I—” A nervous laugh slips out. “What I mean is, you’re always prepared. Right?”
As my meaning sinks in, his shoulders deflate. “Shit.”
“Is that a no?” Horrified, I gape at him. “You don’t have any . . . ?”
“No.” His eyes widen, and he flushes to his hairline. “I mean yes! I do. In the first aid kit. In the car.”
I exhale, equal parts relieved and confused. “I don’t want to know why you have condoms in your first aid kit.”
“Actually, they make excellent—”
I slap a palm over his mouth. “Don’t tell me. Just go get one.” Then I fist the front of his shirt and pull him in for a quick, but somewhat brutal, kiss. “Make that two! And hurry!”
Dash groans, adjusting himself as he backs away. “Be right back.” He winks, then turns and jogs toward the break in the trees.
The second he disappears into the shadows, I exhale into my hand to check my breath and catch a whiff of my armpits. My breath still smells like chocolate, but the rest of me reeks of sweat and swamp water. And Lord help me, there isn’t enough deodorant in the world to hide that.
With my heart rattling off the seconds, I crawl into the tent and snatch my tote, upending its contents onto the sleeping bag to search for the pack of wet wipes I tossed in there the other day.
