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I said nothing for long moments, soaking in the peace and tranquility of the forest around us, gazing upon the breathtaking view, the concrete freezing against my ass, even through my jeans.
“I shouldn’t have hit you,” she murmured, looking out over the canyon.
Once more, she’d taken me by surprise, amea culpathe very last thing I’d expected to hear slip from her lips.
But I wasn’t in the mood to give her any inkling of that, and I allowed her only a simple, silent nod in reply.
She sighed. “Nothing? Not going to sayanything?Reprimand me? Tell me what a bitch I am?”
The edge in her voice was back, and it rendered hollow her quasi-apology from moments before.
“Two things are going to happen right now, Eva. You’re going to answer my question, and you’re going to be corrected for slapping me.”
She made a tight noise deep in her chest but uttered no protest beyond that.
“Turn and face me.”
Eva pivoted her shoulders toward me, her brows raising the tiniest bit in question.
“No, no not like that. Straddle the bench.”
“Nick, what the hell are you—”
I finally met her gaze. “Come on. Do it.”
Blowing out an irritated breath, she scooted back enough to swing her leg up and over to the other side, now facing me fully. She placed her hands upon her thighs, a tiny vertical line creasing the center of her brow.
“Get your tits out.”
She drew a sharp breath. “What…why?”
“Because I want to look at them.”
“Nick, we’re in public…”
“We’re at a deserted viewpoint most people don’t even know exists. On a weekday.” I nodded slowly. “Get ‘em out.”
“I… I can’t. This is crazy.”
I gazed pointedly over her shoulder, then met her eyes once more. “I’ve got a clear view of the trail as soon as it crests the ravine. I’ll see anyone coming long before they’ll be able to make out what we’re up to. Now, titsout. I’m not telling you again.”
She grimaced, but took hold of the neckline of her top, as if intending to take her shirt all the way off.
“No. Just pull it up.”
Beginning to blush, she glared at me, motionless for a moment. Then she obeyed, easing the shirt up until it bunched above the swell of her sports bra-encased breasts.
“Bra too. Stop fucking around.”
“Oh God,” she whispered, but she flipped the sports bra up as well.
“That’s better.” The bunched fabric pressed against the upper curves of her breasts, forcing them down somewhat, and out slightly to the sides. “Clasp your hands behind your back.”
“Nick!”
I grasped her spread thigh, squeezing it harshly, a clear warning. “Say the goddamnedwordsor do as you’re told.”
Reluctantly, she locked her hands behind her back. A breath of breeze eased across the clearing, the coolness delightful against my cheek.
