Page 53 of Good Directions

“Anton…”

“Sawyer.”

“Why can’t you be like this all the time? I like this you.”

I like this you…

“Which me is this?” I ask, holding back the real smart-ass answer I want to let loose.

“This nerdy, sciencey, ag guy. He’s…disarming.”

I scoff laugh, looking off into the distance. Well, I’ll be damned.

Me. Sawyer likes me. The real fucking me.

Taking another half step forward, I erase any distance left between us. My pulse starts to race, my system in overdrive as I try to figure out my next move. I want to kiss her like I want my next breath. I want to know how she tastes. What she feels like. How she moves.

Fuck it.

Wrapping my arm around her waist, I haul Sawyer into me and capture her mouth with mine. I don’t stop to think. The sound she lets out goes straight to my groin, her arms weaving around my neck. And I’m in heaven.

My mind goes blank. Nothing exists but the feel of her soft lips against mine, her gentle whimpers floating through the air, and the heat from her body. Her subtle sweetness is intoxicating, going straight to my head, making me dizzy. Making me crave more.

Crave her.

I twist us around, slowly walking her backward toward the tree, until I can rest her against it. Sawyer moans as I deepen the kiss, my tongue finding hers, seeking out more of that sweet taste. It’s still not enough. I’m not sure it’s ever going to be enough.

“Anton…”

Sawyer grasps onto my biceps, her fingers digging into my skin as I kiss along her jawline. I shift my weight so we’re straddling each other as I lean her against the tree trunk, keeping my full attention on her. Right where it belongs. Sliding my hand along her waist, I dip my finger just inside the waistband of her jeans, teasing the button. My dick throbs, just the idea of seeing more of her exciting me beyond measure.

Flicking her jeans open, I slip my hand lower, over her panties. I can feel the wetness in her crotch, and let out a groan.

“I bet you’re sweet enough to eat…”

“No.”

Errr…what?!

It’s as if an audible record scratch sounds. Sawyer freezes and I immediately step back, arms up in the air in surrender.

Because that’s the magic word.

Or, well, the not-so-magic word.

“What’s the matter? What’d I do?”

“I…errr…” The panic in her voice matches the fear in her eyes. Deer in headlights have looked calmer than Sawyer does right now. “I have to go.”

Faster than I can think, much less react, she’s past me, running. Legit, actual running. As if she were participating in the annual Thanksgiving 5K. Where to, I have no idea. Because now I’m frozen. I’m the deer in the headlights.

Fuck.