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He groans at whatever expression he sees on my face. “What the hell was I thinking, bringing you to a place full of people and kids where I can’t even kiss you properly? This is torture. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
I spot a makeshift photo booth as we approach the exit. “Picture! Please, for my string lights.”
Zander closes the curtain and turns the camera on before kissing me hard. I lose track of time as his one hand wraps around my small ponytail. He pulls me closer to him by his other hand on my waist. I can feel him harden as he thrusts into my stomach, his wandering hand moving up and down my spine. My own body is hot and wet.
“Fucking kids,” he whispers, pulling back, and that’s when I hear some kids impatiently waiting outside.
“But our picture?”
He points to the several photographs lying on the transparent pickup slot.
When did he take them? I grab the pictures, and my face heats at the sight. My shirt is riding up as Zander’s hand splays over my waist. I’m clutching his neck, pulling him close. Even though we have clothes on, these pictures are…sensual.
“Are you done?” a young boy’s voice comes from outside of the tent.
“No, we were just starting, you dipshit,” Zander mutters under his breath.
I quickly put the photos into my bag before anyone can see them. We walk out of the booth and realize why the kids are impatient. It’s drizzling and everyone has taken shelter in whichever place they can. I guess no one was expecting rain, as it was bright and sunny this morning.
By the time we reach the car, it’s really coming down. We quickly get inside and calm our heavy breaths. I brush my hair with my fingers, trying to untangle the wet locks. I’m soon joined by Zander, who plays with the wet strands. Beads of water cover his handsome face.
I wipe some of the water drops from his cheeks. Somehow, the feel of his spiked stubble under my fingers makes me grin.
“I guess I need a shave every day,” he whispers in an amused tone, stroking his beard like men do in shaving cream advertisements.
“I like it. You look hot,” I whisper.
We stare into each other’s eyes as the air inside the car gets warm and humid. Zander pulls my face closer to his, moving his hand from behind my head to my neck. I lean into his kiss. Surprisingly, the dampness around our bodies is sensual. He licks my lips, something he does often, like he’s savoring my taste. He gently nibbles my bottom lip, and I moan into his mouth. When he drifts his tongue into my mouth, I meet him with mine. I love how he takes his time exploring my mouth. It’s enticing and erotic.
He lifts me from my seat and pulls me over his lap after pushing the driver seat back.
“Zander,” I whisper, my hoarse voice foreign to my own ears.
“I want to have my first experience of making out in a car with my girlfriend,” he rasps in my ear and nuzzles my neck.
I love that his first experience of making out in a car is with me.
His pointed stubble tingles my neck as he whispers over my skin. “I had one of the best days of my life. Thank you.” He rubs my back, the wet shirt creating a strange friction. Until yesterday, I didn’t know simple things like a rub on the back could be so arousing.
“Me too.” I shiver as my head rests on his chest. And then I sneeze.
No! Not now, please!
But crab, I sneeze again.
“You cold?” he asks, raising my face as I quickly wipe any remnants of the cold from my nose and upper lips.
Zander smiles and grabs a napkin from the dashboard, wiping my face with it. “Better. Let’s get you out of these wet clothes. I don’t want you to be sick, especially tonight.” Placing a swift kiss on my lips, he sets me back in my seat and starts the car.
The uninvited black clouds hover over the lake, and it’s dark sooner than usual. Light reflections dance on the lake as heavy raindrops pop the water. A classic piece of Beethoven buzzes through the car’s music system. Everything around us looks magical, like a scene cut out from a painting or a classic romance movie, including the man by my side. His one hand is on the steering wheel and the other is holding mine.
“I can never get bored of this place,” I blurt. But it’s true, Cherrywood has felt more like home to me than any other place.
“I’m starting to see why.” His eyes gaze over Cherry Lake before his focus is back on the road.
“You know this piece?” I ask, nodding toward the stereo after a long silence.
“No, but I’m sure you do.” He raises an eyebrow.
