Page 81 of Parentmoon

Dallas grabs my hand and tucks our fingers together.

“I want to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience for you, darlin’.”

“You have been.” His blue eyes have softened, and I lean toward him for a kiss. Dallas doesn’t let it be quick, but tugs on my lower lip when I try to pull back. He keeps our mouths connected, kissing me sweet and long. He sucks my lip and dances with my tongue. When we finally break, his eyes are darker, needier.

“Miss you.” His voice is rough like he’s the one that swallowed saltwater.

“I’m right here.” His unspoken meaning is clear, though. We haven’t had sex since Michael and Keli arrived. Not that sex is the end-all-be-all. We’re on this adventure alone today, like a date.

It occurs to me we’ve had several moments that I hadn’t considered dates but could have been.

Our private dinner. Dancing at the bar in town. Secret Beach. A porch picnic.

Is he courting me? It’s the most archaic, backwards thing I’ve thought since being here with Dallas Cole. Everything has only been an experience. A once-in-a-lifetime, stop the clock moment. But the minutes are ticking away because in three days we leave Belize.

+ + +

We arrive back at the resort just in time for dinner. Michael and Keli look like newlyweds before they’ve actually wed. They longingly stare at each other. They subtly touch. They kiss.

And beneath the dinner table, Dallas holds my smallest finger.

After dinner, he walks me down the beach and kisses me beneath the moonlight.

Later, we are giddy like teens in the loft when we climb into bed.

“Think they are having sex?” I whisper, my voice possibly too loud in the quiet of the open concept space.

“I don’t want to think about my baby girl having sex.” Dallas nuzzles into my neck, speaking as low as his rough voice allows.

“They probably don’t want to think about us having sex,” I jest, reminding him we haven’t done anything since their arrival.

“Well, too bad, because we’re going to have it tonight.” Dallas skates his hand over my belly, and under the hem of his T-shirt which has become my permanent sleep shirt. He cups one of my breasts, squeezing it and puckering the nipple to a peak.

“We can’t,” I hush-whisper, warning him while arching into his touch. “They could hear us.”

“Then you’ll need to be quiet, darlin’.”

I’m not much of a screamer anyway, but greedy noises work their way out when he touches me and then there is the sexy sound of our bodies moving together.

Dallas peppers my neck with sucking kisses, and I press my backside into his front, longing for the thick wedge in his boxer briefs.

“You like the idea of us getting caught in the act?” he teases, feeling my body move against his.

I shake my head but I’m not insistent enough that Dallas stops touching me. His hand skims down my middle and between my legs, and I spread them easily for his touch.

“Adds to the thrill,” Dallas mutters by my ear, while slipping a finger beneath the elastic of my underwear.

“I would not be thrilled to have Michael catch me having sex,” I whisper-hiss.

“He already caught you in bed with me, though.” Dallas nips my neck. Then he delves into me with two fingers, and I bite my lip to silence the groan. I’ve missed his touch.

From our position in the loft, we hear the sliding glass door open and click closed. Dallas sits up, then falls back to his side. “Think we scared them away. They went outside.”

“Oh my God,” I groan, embarrassed they might have heard us after all.

“Nope. Want to hear you say oh my Dallas.” He kisses me before I can respond and then he’s removing my underwear, shoving down his, and slipping over me until he enters me. We move quietly, with soft puffs and whispered huffs. He holds both my hands above my head, peppering my chest with kisses before taking a breast in his mouth.

Our bodies seem to recognize each other. Like we’ve known the shape and mold of one another for years. Like a married couple in sync. I never want us to stop.