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But every minute I’m inside her is more perfect than the one before it.
It’s different with us. I know she’s aware of it.
In the morning, I’m up—and hard as a rock—when she finally begins to yawn and stretch. I resist the urge to pull her against me or brush her hair back from her face. I spent most of the night resisting a whole lot of urges, so I’ve had some practice.
She’s facing away from me but turns her head up to stare at the ceiling of the tent. “It’s raining?”
It is, which means the trip back to the car is gonna suck. Kate enjoyed yesterday—she’s hardly the type to claim she’s pleased when she’s not—but hiking with a pack on in pouring rain might sour her on ever doing this again. Not that I should behopingwe will ever do this again. I’ve always thought about the future with her, though. Even when she was pregnant with someone else’s kid.
“Yeah,” I reply. “Yet somehow the weather said there was zero chance of rain.”
She glances over her shoulder at me. “You don’t really expect me to hike in this, right? Can we just stay in the tent until it passes?”
My tongue glides over my upper lip. “What would we do in here for hours though?”
She scoots against me, and I hear a muffled noise, a laugh and a groan combined, when she feels me pressed hard to her back. “I can think of a thing or two.”
If she were anyone else, I’d slide against her ass, back and forth, savoring the buildup. But she’s the one whoostensiblywants her husband back, and each time with us has had the appearance of a mistake, something that happens at night in a haze, when it doesn’t seem to entirely count.
“The ball’s in your court,” I tell her.
“Literally,” she says, and my laughter is cut short by the slide of her hand down my waistband.
She tugs my boxers down and climbs above me, sliding over my cock simply to torture me until I can’t stand it anymore.
I flip her on her stomach and am pulling her up by her hips before I’ve even thought it through. I slide my fingers between her legs—she’s so slick and tight that I want to come just at the thought of pushing inside her...until I remember we can’t.
I flinch. “Fuck. We used the last condom already.”
There are other things we can do, but right now I just want this—her back arching as I push inside her, those breathy, animal sounds she makes as she gets close, and the way I have to fight not to lose it when it happens.
She glances at me over her shoulder, all feline-eyed and breathless. “Are you okay? I got tested in rehab and still have my IUD.”
I haven’t had unprotected sex since I was a moronic high school student, but I want it with her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my whole life. “Yes.”
I tug my shorts down and I’m bottoming out inside her a second later.
The heat, the wetness...my God, it’s so different. She’s pulsing around me like the beat of a heart, and when she starts gasping and pleading, I have to shut it out. If I don’t, this will end far too soon.
She no longer supports her weight, her face pressed to the sleeping bag, flushed and dazed, lips swollen, unspeakably beautiful. This is Kate under my sway, begging for things she wants fromme, not him. I’ve fantasized about this a thousand times, but the reality of it is so much better. “I don’t want this to end,” she whispers.
I don’t wantanyof it to end, and she doesn’t either. I just wish she’d fucking realize it.
29
KATE
Mid-morning, he ventures into the rain to get the bear bag. We cut off wedges of pepperoni and eat it with a chaser of trail mix. And then I climb above him again, because torturing Beck until he pins me down and fucks me is my new favorite sport.
The rain has slowed but not stopped when we finally pack everything, and the slog back to the truck is straight out of a survival show—the trail slick with mud, and the extra-heavy wet backpack making every slip that much more terrifying.
We cross a stream that didn’t exist the day before, and I fall flat on my back. Thanks to the backpack, I’m unable to right myself until Beck returns to help me up.
“I hate this,” I tell him as he grabs my hands. “I hate this so much.”
He gives me a hint of a smile. “No, you don’t.”
I’m caked in mud, starving, and my thighs are so sore that every step I take is agony, but even as my mouth opens to argue, I know he’s right: the past twenty-four hours are the best ones I’ve had in years.
