Her lips part.
Her lashes flutter.
And she moans, “Oh my God. So good.” Her lips close around the perfectly roasted marshmallow I slip into her mouth, triggering a vivid mental flashback to this morning, when she took my cock in her mouth with similar relish.
I want to bite her bare neck, slip my hand under that filmy cover-up that does nothing to hide her curves and get her off while the waves crash onto the shore.
She deserves an orgasm or five after the dragon she slayed today.
And maybe I’ll get to give her one, sooner rather than later . . .
After the last of the sunset light fades and the darkness closes in, no one’s going to be able to see what my hands are up to.
We’re at one of Lost Summer Brewery’s beachside firepits. There are eight of them in total, but they’re all several yards apart, granting a certain degree of privacy, and our closest neighbors are a couple nearly as into each other as we are. They’ve barely come up for air since they sat down.
Though I’m sure to anyone looking on, Ruby and I seem like a couple too.
We can’t keep our hands off each other, and by the time our server delivers our second pint of Kona Ale—a coffee-flavored dark beer that is fucking delicious with roasted marshmallows—Ruby is in my lap, sprawled across me in the big Adirondack chair.
“Beautiful,” she murmurs, gazing out across the darkening water. “I wish we could stay here. Just . . . camp out on the beach and wake up in the morning to the sound of the waves.”
“I thought you hated camping?” I challenge her.
“Not romantic camping on the beach,” she counters. “That might be nice. Not Four Seasons nice, but nice.”
“No camping around here that I know of, but there’s a place on Governor’s Island. You can rent a tent and sleep across the water from the Statue of Liberty.”
“Really? That’s so cool.” Ruby snuggles closer to my chest with a yawn. “Maybe we should add camping to the ‘something new’ list, after all.”
My head rears back. “What? You’ve really never been?”
“No, never.”
“But I thought you went to Camp Knick Knack Paddywhack with Claire when you were kids. The one my mom’s friend owns upstate? Claire went every summer. Sometimes twice.”
“My mom wouldn’t let me,” Ruby says, reaching for her beer on the small table next to our shared chair. “She and Dad are terrified of heavily wooded areas. They watched too many camp-themed horror movies in the eighties. And they’ve lived in the city their entire lives. That many trees all together seems . . . unnatural to them or something.”
I snort. “Trees? They’re literally the most natural thing there is.”
She swallows her sip and laughs. “Right?” She shakes her head and sets down her beer on the table between our chairs. “But you know how they are. Once they get their minds set on something, there’s no changing it. So, my dream of spending summer at camp with my bestie went unfulfilled.” She freezes for a moment before turning back to me with a wide-eyed look.
That matches mine.
It’s instant, this awareness.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I ask, my brain already three steps ahead, nailing down how we make this happen.
“Number three on the list—the old dream coming true,” she says with a wistful sigh. “But we can’t. I’m too old to go to camp.”
“Screw that. You’re never too old to go to camp.” I lean over the wooden arm of the chair, digging into my beach bag for my cell.
Ruby laughs. “I’m pretty sure that’s not true. I don’t think a bunch of pre-teen girls would appreciate a woman in her twenties crashing their week-long slumber party. I don’t even know what boy bands or video games are cool these days. I’m totally out of touch.”
“We’re not going to camp with the kids; we’ll camp on the other side of the lake. There’s another camping area. Trust me, I know that place inside and out. My mom and Rachel are tight.” I scroll through my phone until I find Mom’s number and tap it, continuing to talk as I lift my cell to my ear. “Rachel has a few cabins on the other side for old folks like you and me. It’s not super fancy, but—”
I break off as Mom answers the phone. “Hey, Mom, I’m here with Ruby, and we’ve got a brilliant idea.”
“Oh, good! I love brilliant ideas. And Ruby. Tell her hello for me,” Mom says warmly before adding, “Dad says hi to you, by the way. He wants to go throw axes with you at that lumberjack bar before you leave. He’s been practicing and is positive he’ll beat you this time.”
I grin. “In his dreams. But that’s kind of what I’m calling about. Do you think Rachel would let Ruby and me camp out at her place? On the far side of the lake? I want to teach Ruby how to throw axes in the wild.”
Ruby snorts and whispers, “Yeah, right. Good way to lose a limb, my friend. My hand-eye coordination is even worse than my breaststroke.”
But she looks excited, nibbling on the edge of her thumb as Mom puts me on hold to hop on a call with Rachel.
I cover the receiver. “When can we leave?”
“She might not say yes,” Ruby says.
“She’s going to say yes. Rachel loves my family. She never says no to Mom. So?” I curl my fingers into her hip, loving that I can, that we have these moments, even for a little while. “When can I kidnap you? Tomorrow morning?”
“I can’t.” She bites her bottom lip but a grin breaks through. “I’ll need at least a few days to get ready. I have sketches due for the new menus, and card orders to place, and I’d have to pack, and—”
“She’s ready for you whenever,” Mom says brightly as she comes back on the line. “But let me know before you leave so she can text you a list. She needs a few things from the bulk store. You can swing by on your way out of town. I’ll give you my membership card.”
“Perfect. Thanks, Mom.” I squeeze Ruby’s thigh. “We’ll probably head out the day after tomorrow.”
“I said a couple of days,” Ruby hisses, but she’s laughing as she swats my chest. “At least two.”
“Yeah, I’m going to pack for Ruby while she works tomorrow,” I tell Mom—and Ruby. I’m raring to go. The thought of getting out of town with this woman has me all jazzed up, and I’m pretty sure I know why. A trip, just the two of us, feels like the next step. A dangerous step, but one I want to take with her. I want to know what it’s like to vacation with Ruby, to have her all to myself for a few days with no interruptions. “Then we’ll head out Wednesday morning. I’ll make sure I get that list before we leave.”
I sign off and end the call, tossing my cell back in the bag before gathering Ruby closer, sliding a hand under her cover-up as she leans into me. I crave her closeness. “There. All settled.”
“You can’t pack for me,” she says, humming beneath her breath. I cup her breast through her sexy-as-sin suit. “And you can’t do that in public.”
“It’s dark enough. No one will see,” I murmur, all caught up in her. “And I’m an excellent packer. We’ll sleep at your place tonight. I’ll pack you in the morning while you work, then head home and grab my things, and be back at your place with pre-adventure pizza for a late dinner.”
And holy shit . . . I just went full couple planning with her.
I ought to be terrified, because I don’t do that.
I don’t want to be tied down. Haven’t wanted that in ages.
But I don’t mind it at all with Ruby.
With my daring, courageous friend, who is so much more than a friend.
Full couple seems to be all I want right now.
Riddle me that.
But then, it’s not all that complicated.
I’ve always loved Ruby. I should have known it wouldn’t be that hard to fall in love with her. If I could rewind the past few days and undo this tumble into something more . . . maybe I would.
But I can’t. And right now, I just want more of her. As much as I can get.
I tip my forehead in the direction of her place. “Let’s get out of here.”
“You’re a mind reader.” She grins. “That may be one of my favorite things about you.”
I almost tell her I have too many favorite parts of her to list, but that kind of cheesy shit is a good way to make it even harder to say goodbye than it’s going to be already.
At her place we make quick work of our clothes.
Cover-ups and shirts pool on the floor, and she grabs her phone, clicks on a playlist, then scoots back on the bed, her eyes wide, eager.
Soft, sexy music floats through her room.
Like I need mood music, but hey, I won’t complain about Sam Smith.
I climb over her, sliding my hand along her soft skin, dipping my face to her neck. A sigh falls from my lips as I kiss her, tasting the ocean and the sand and her.
My head spins with longing, and my body throbs with desire.
Her hands roam down my chest, over my abs, and straight to my dick.
When she grips me, the noise I make is carnal.
And needy too.
So is hers. A plea. “Jesse.”
It’s just my name. But the way she says it, all soft and desperate, like this day did something to her too, makes my heart thump harder.
Fuck, I need this woman.
Need so much more than this narrow window, this list.
But I try to shake those thoughts from my head and zero in on the moment.
Nighttime. Music. The way she moves beneath me.
That is all there is. The physical. The now.
She lifts her hips and I give Ruby what she wants, sliding a hand between her legs, losing my mind when I feel how wet she is.
How ready she is.
And she feels fucking incredible, all slick and soft.
I bury my face in her neck, kissing and sucking as I stroke and glide, and soon she is bucking and writhing in my hand.
Then, coming hard and fast, in mere minutes.
I want to thump my chest, pat myself on the back. But more than that, I want to give her another orgasm.
“Need you now,” I groan.
“Have me,” she says in an echo, grabbing a condom from the nightstand and thrusting it at me.
I cover myself as she parts her legs.
And I nearly die of desire.
The way she opens herself. How much she wants me. How she gives me her body.
It’s all too much and never enough at once.
I wedge myself between the paradise of her thighs, rub the head of my cock against that wetness, then slide inside her.
She gasps gorgeously, arching her back at the same time.
And that, right there.
I want to capture that. Remember that.
The way she wants me.
And the way I want her.
I sink all the way in, filling her, my chest against hers, my arms wrapped around her shoulders.
I can’t get close enough to this gorgeous woman.
“Yes,” she moans.
I move in her, heeding her call, giving her what we both want—connection, closeness, contact.
I run my hands up and down her back, and she sighs and moans with every touch. She loves to be touched. She responds to each sweep of my fingers, each press of my palms.
As she wraps her legs around me, hooking her ankles over my ass, I let myself forget that we’re not a couple.
This will all end very soon.
But right now, it feels like we won’t ever stop.
Later, when she’s sound asleep in my arms, I play out scenarios in my mind. I imagine possibilities.
Maybe I’m stupid for not seeing this coming. I should have considered this kind of trouble before we started working our way through the list. But jumping through all those hoops with her, watching her take chances, push herself, surprise herself . . .
It’s like reading a great book for the first time.
Or the fifth.
You don’t want to put it down. You just want to keep turning the pages, to discover its secrets, to see if it’s still as good as you remember—and it always is.
Ruby is the book I want to keep reading, the person I want to know, inside and out.
I park my hands behind my head, stare at the ceiling in the dark, questions flickering before my eyes.
But they all start and end with bridges I don’t know how to cross. I have a plan, a path, and I’m too far down that road to turn back now.
I’ve resigned myself to the list. Just the list.
And then I’ll let her go.