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“Yes.” Suddenly, he’s right there. My clothing remains in place, but he tongues my clit through the material, dampening the fabric with his hot mouth. My breath hitches again, and my fingertips abrade against the rough brick behind me. As suddenly as he delivers euphoric shocks through my body, he pulls away.
“No!” I palm his head to express my need.
“Shh,” he croons, rising to his feet. His lips seal over mine to silence my plea. “It’s too obvious. We need to be more creative.”
My gaze is unwavering as I try to make sense of his thoughts. The questions vanish when he touches the front of my bottoms with his fingers and slips his hand inside the band.
“Oh,” I whimper.
“Better?” he replies a bit too cocky. Ah hell, what do I know? Cocky is the epitome of hot. My bottoms are soaked and not from the freaking pool.
“Much.” My eyelids drift lower. The brick behind me supports my head.
He invades my bikini to his wrist and traces my slit with two fingers. “Baby, you’re damn soaked for me.”
“How do you know I’m not this wet all the time?”
“Because I’ve been inside you before. You were wet then, but this is like a faucet.”
“Watch it,” I snap but immediately lose the ire when he plunges those two fingers straight inside. I welcome the delicious stretch.
“I love it more than you know. Strokes a man’s ego so good to know he can do that to a woman. Second to making her come.”
“More of that. The second thing. Less talking and more coming!”
“Yeah, Kiersten.” He drops a kiss to the corner of my lips and adjusts his mouth to my ear. “You’re going to do that just for me, aren’t you? Come all over my fingers in a public park. I didn’t know you had such a dirty side.”
“Shut. Up.” I groan. The sparks of an orgasm fire inside me from his taunt. My legs shake, already unsteady from the drinks throughout the day, and pleasure sizzles beneath my skin. An unexpected orgasm washes over me, and I collapse forward. Nathan catches me easily with his other arm while his fingers continue to pump away. He deftly seals his lips over mine in anticipation of the scream clawing up my throat. We kiss languidly for long moments, his velvet tongue an erotic stroke before he glides his fingers from my bikini bottoms and wipes them on the inside hem of his shirt.
Heavy lidded and dreamy, I look into his eyes and smirk. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises, Nice Guy Nate.”
“What?” He guffaws at my nickname and tugs me from our secluded place. “Is that what you and Cami call me when I’m not around?”
“No, of course not. I just made it up.”
We stop beside some loungers. “Do I really seem like the nice guy to you?”
Before I can answer, Cami pops up from her chair a few away from the one we’re standing motionless beside.
“Where have you been? Are you guys holding hands? Are you bleeding?” She fires off the questions with a look of confusion masking her face. Not until she mentions it do I glance down to our laced fingers. I rectify the unusual contact by tugging free and resume my seat in the lounger beside her.
“This klutz tripped me at the drink stand and had to clean me up.”
He plonks my sunglasses over my eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “Sure. The sober one ran into the drunk. I think you’re misremembering.”
Cami sniggers behind her cupped hands. “Did you have sex?” she whispers not so quietly.
“What? No. Of course not.” Could I sound any more suspicious? “We did not do…that.”
I avoid their stares and look straight ahead at the kids floating along the lazy river. They have the right idea. Next time, I’m packing a canteen I can strap on and not worry about it floating away.
“Well, you picked a good time to come back. I think the girls are tiring out. Law just took them to get snow cones, but it seems they’re ready to head back home. Not to mention, we’re out of booze, so it’s a good thing you didn’t come back with drin
ks. Although I could go for a water.” She sticks her tongue out in a dramatic display of overheating.
“I’m on it. You two sit here and stay out of trouble.” Nathan glowers at me as he says it and stalks off back to the concessions.
“He’s grumpy,” I mutter. I scooch off my chair and pack my bag. I gather what feels like a stadium’s worth of plastic cups and garbage from our binge and cart it off to a nearby trash can.
