“Maybe we should try a different position?” I suggested.
“I need more leverage,” Cade muttered, pulling me over to the nearest table. He spun me around, bent me over the table, and pinned me down with a hand to the back of my neck and another on my hip before I could blink.
“Brace yourself,” he growled.
“Wait, what?” I jerked my head back in alarm, but his grip held me down.
Brace myself?What did that even mean?
Cade let go of my hip long enough to wrangle the string until the balloon hung over my butt, then the gloves were off. He pumped his hips against my ass—and the balloon—quickly building a rhythm that left me speechless and just hanging on to the table for my life.
It. Didn’t. Freaking. Pop.
The balloon bent and bobbed every which way in its desperation to stay intact, while Dr. Lovejoy was so overcome with laughter watching us that she collapsed to the deck.
I got tossed around like a rag doll, while Cade’s frustration built with each unsuccessful thrust.
And to my mortification, it felt…good. Good enough that I couldn’t resist pushing my ass back against him. With the way Cade held my neck down while pounding against me in an all-too-familiar dance, I forgot all about the balloon game.
When he changed his strategy togrindingagainst me, my lips parted as I felt his growing excitement against my backside.He seemed wholly focused on our stubborn balloon, so I wasn’t sure he even noticed it.
I sure did, though.
It was impossible not to.
Heat pooled low in my belly as my nails scraped down the tabletop, and an embarrassingly breathy moan escaped before I could stop it.
Cade froze against me. “…Ellie?”
“Don’t stop!” I begged, before mortification quickly set in and I spluttered, “The—The balloon, I mean. Keep trying to pop it!”
I dropped my forehead to the table with a painfulthunk.
Kill me now.
There was a long, excruciating pause before Cade moved again. His hand dropped from the back of my neck.
“Push back against me,” he ordered, low and growly. Both his hands shifted to my hips, and I swallowed before pushing back as he set a forceful rhythm that did nothing to pop the indestructible balloon.
And suddenly it made sense why Dr. Lovejoy had included this game in a couples retreat. We were basically dry humping.
In front of everyone.
Finally—during a particularly primal thrust while I was trying my best to disappear into the table—the balloon exploded in a glorious smallpop.
Neither Cade nor I moved.
I could still feel him through his swimming trunks, and I cleared my throat twice before daring to speak. “Cade?”
His fingers dug harder into my hips, before abruptly disappearing. “Let’s go. We still need to finish.”
My eyes widened in alarm. “Finish?”
He tugged me up with a laugh. “The race, Ellie. Come on.”
“Right,” I muttered, adjusting my swimsuit bottom and wishing I could crawl under a deck chair to hide. “The race.”
It’d felt like we were in our own little bubble during the game, and suddenly that’d popped, too. The yelling from the other couples and Mac rushed back in. Applause sounded from the sideline.
