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“Okay,” I agree, leaning in for a kiss.
Bryson returns it, slow and languid, like we should be waking up instead of going to sleep.He sweeps my hair off my shoulders, then slides his hands under my ass and lifts me into his lap.I giggle softly into his mouth and curl my legs around his waist, tugging myself closer.
I love making out with Bryson, I’ve officially decided.He’s good at it, first of all - how could he not be a great kisser, a man who loves running his mouth as much as he does?- and he always knows just where to skim his fingertips, just how to hold me.I can’t wait to discover all of the other things he’s probably good at.Not here, of course – I want him, but I’m not that much a slave to my basic desires that I’m going to have sex with him on a cold wooden dock in the middle of the Adirondacks.
Not for the first time, anyway.
I’m not opposed to doing a little more, though, so I grip his wrist and intentionally move his hand from my hips to beneath my shirt.I’ve been trying to sleep, so I’m not wearing a bra; Bryson kisses me harder as the realization of it dawns on him, swallowing the moan I let out as he palms my breasts.
“So goddamn beautiful, Carleigh,” he tells me between messy kisses, as he slips his other hand beneath my shirt as well.“Every part of you.”He cups both of my breasts, squeezing firmly.
Bryson’s touch is tender and impolite at the same time.His big hands move both gently and roughly; he tugs at my nipples and then pinches them lightly in unison.That move elicits a delighted gasp from me, I rolls my hips against him and bites his earlobe.
“I need you,” I exhale, leaning back a little.He moves one hand to my back to support me and intuitively moves the other near my stomach.“Please, Bryson,” I whine.“I need you.”
Bryson slides his hand beneath the waistband of my pajama pants and cups me between my legs, over my underwear.“Jesus, baby,” he mutters, fingertips pressing over my entrance.“You’re so wet.You’re going to ruin your pajamas.”
I swallow and lean my head back to look at the stars, not caring anymore.I don’t care, he should tear my underwear off, I just want - “Want you to ruin me,” I breathe, before realizing I said it out loud.
Bryson goes still.“Carleigh,” he finally says, ragged.“You can’t - if you want slow, baby, you can’t say stuff like that.”
Slow.
Right.
I breathe deeply, in and out, practicing my pranayama.“This probably isn’t slow, huh?”I ask, once I can speak again.The tight coil in my abdomen is beginning to unwind.
Bryson’s hand slides out of my bottoms and returns to my waist.He tugs me into him, hugging me tightly.
“I wasn’t lying today, Carleigh,” he mutters quietly.“I’m going to be honest: there’s a lot I want to do with you, a lot I’ve thought about.Some of it's not even dirty stuff!And so far, everything’s been a lot better than I imagined.But I’m going to take you apart, Carleigh.Piece by piece.That’s a promise.”His grip tightens on my waist.“But not here.You deserve better than that.”
I nod into his neck and press a soft kiss to his pulse point.“I look forward to it,” I whisper.
We sit for a while longer and then head back to the campsite, hand-in-hand again.I follow Bryson into his tent.He tucks me into his arms, drags the unzipped sleeping bag over us on his single air mattress like a blanket, and kisses me softly.
“Night, babe,” he whispers.
I burrow into his chest and shut my eyes.“Night,” I echo.
