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Connor disappears down the steps outside and I can hear the two men talk, then Connor on the phone with someone. I slip into the tiny shower closet next to the bed and try to wash away all the doubts about myself that seem to loom around me. Connor wants closeness with me. He was worried I’d want to leave. Reliving his past with his ex-wife brought him to tears. I never want that again. But he’s right. I want to know more about who he is. I want the closeness knowing everything about him will bring.
But closeness, which I hope means relationship, also means I have to tell him my secrets, too. Relive the humiliation and pain of what happened. Reveal all the ways I’m too broken and damaged to ever be worthy of him. I already feel my heart surrendering to him, but I can’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
I wash quickly, dress and clean up the food. By the time I’m done, Connor pops back into the camper. “Minor repair. We’re good to go.”
“What was it?” I ask.
“I’m not even going to pretend I’m the guy who can tell you with any level of understanding what that man just did, Lainey Bird. There were wires and some kind of a screwdriver and bada boom, it was fixed.”
I giggle at that. Seems Tarzan has his inadequacies, too.
“So, we’re heading out?”
“Yep, it’s my turn in the shower and then we’re off. I don’t suppose you’d want to come in and wash me like you did back at the spa in Georgia, would you?”
“No room. You’re barely going to fit in there. Try wedging that monster dick of yours in there all hard and eager, and you might get stuck.” I give his behind a loud smack.
Connor grabs me and pulls me tight against his chest. “Monster dick, huh?”
I nod and smile, feeling his sleeping monster already beginning to morph into the ravenous beast that took me countless times last night. “You’ve seen it right? You know.”
“Hmm. I kind of like that. And he definitely likes you.” He kisses me and I know he wants to restore things to the way they were before I went snooping. For that, for this, I’m grateful. So, for now, Miss Insecurity is put back into her room.
“I can see that,” I say. I press my pelvis into his hardening rod. It sends a growl up through the lion’s chest and into my ear. “Go wash the one-eyed monster and try not to get stuck in there. I’m going to finish cleaning up.”
Connor’s hands grip my ass and squeeze me. He presses me into him again, forcing that sensitive cleft between my legs to feel that beautiful steel under his shorts. I fight back the urge to moan.
“Where are we going today?” I say, trying to wiggle out of his hold before we end up back in bed again. As much as I would love it, I don’t think my underused lady parts could handle more of that monster right now.
“If I get my wish, back to bed.” He kisses my neck and nips at the base of it, sending shocks through my body that settle low in my belly.
“Connor, I can’t anymore right now,” I confess.
He kisses me, deep and hungry. “Later then?”
I nod and he hugs me tightly before undressing right in front of me and then walking down the short hall to the shower, teasing me with a glimpse of the monster and then my lion. My Inner Sex Goddess is officially in love.
* * *
It’s quite dark by the time we arrive at our next campsite in North Carolina. In practically no time, Connor has the RV set up while I unpack our little patio space. Our campsite has a metal firepit and the campers who used it last left a small pile of cut timber we can burn for a campfire tonight. I have a small blaze going when Connor finishes and joins me.
“The Minnow Bucket is all settled in for the night,” he proclaims. “We have a big day tomorrow.”
“What are we doing tomorrow?” I ask, stabbing a large marshmallow onto a long stick. I found a bag of them inside along with some peanut butter cups and graham crackers. Connor Rose really did think of everything.
“Surprise.” The sly grin on his face says everything.
“I’ll need to know what to wear.” I taunt him.
“Shorts. We’ll be outside. It’s going to be hot. And bring a swimsuit. You packed one, right?” Connor lets out a puff of air that extinguishes the marshmallow he’s lit on fire before popping it into his mouth.
“Three,” I confess. He rolls his eyes at me in the glowing dance of the campfire. I sandwich a perfectly toasted marshmallow between layers of crackers and a peanut butter cup and hand it to him. “Here.”
“What? I didn’t know where we were going. I wanted to be prepared.” I lick a dab of melted chocolate from my thumb and stab another marshmallow onto my stick.
“What the hell is this?” he asks, glaring at my culinary creation.
“It’s a s’more. You had all the ingredients, surely you meant to make them?”
