Chapter 54 Mine
JADE
WE SNAG THE inflatable and make it back to the dock before the others even make it halfway to the pier.
I climb out of the canoe, and Hart hands me the swan. We flip the canoe back on the small dock, and I start up the short ladder.
“Should we brag?” Hart’s palm presses against my lower back, and in one smooth motion, he lifts me the rest of the way.
I turn, and Hart takes the ladder two steps, maybe three, and is right beside me. “We should definitely brag.”
He grabs my hand and we run to the end of the dock. The planks creak beneath us with a subtle sway.
I hold up the inflatable swan wearing glasses. “Look what we got, losers!”
Hart cracks up laughing.
I grin at him. “Too much?”
He shakes his head and cups his mouth toward the water. “Better luck next time! Should’ve swum faster.”
“How the fuck did you get that?” Bronx barks.
“Seriously, how did they get that before us?” Celi asks.
“Uh, maybe because you guys were too busy splashing around like fish?” Jade shouts back at them.
“It’s because the asshole was floating in our damn way,” Josie snaps. “Damn, ogre.”
“See y’all back at camp.” Hart takes my hand and we run.
It’s a rush—the laughter pouring out of us, the excitement, doing it all with him.
We win the game, and finally, the day ends, and we can retire to bed.
This time, I’m not leaving Hart.
“We should celebrate the win.” Hart pulls me against his waist, calming me, telling me I couldn’t leave if I wanted to.
Which I don’t.
The night closes in tightly as we slip inside his tent. The space carries the scent of pine and clean soap from the showers. The nylon walls glow faintly from the lantern outside, just enough to see him.
Behind me, the zipper hums shut, his touch closing us off from the night.
Silence swallows the space, except for the soft thrum of crickets and the squeak of the air mattress when I sit.
He drops beside me, knees brushing mine, both of us fully dressed.
For a second, neither of us moves. His hand flexes on his thigh, and I can hear his breathing steady and low.
The silence stretches, then he breaks it with a quiet "Hi.” His smirk does nothing to hide the playful edge in his deep, husky voice.
“Hi.”
“You think this can handle us?” He gives the blow-up mattress a light push.
I smile. “I don’t think it’s built for our kind of rough play.”
His mouth curves, eyes flicking to my lips. “Then I guess we’ll have to play nice.” His fingertips touch my knee. “Keep it gentle.” His hand slides onto my leg, heating my skin straight through the denim.
How are we going to keep it gentle when I want to shove him back and ride him rough and hard?
My fingers trace up to his arm, over the warm stretch of muscle beneath his sleeve.
His fingers brush the brim of my Stetson. “You gonna keep that on all night?”
“Depends,” I say, smiling.
He tips it off slowly, setting it on the bag beside us. Then he pulls his off too, dropping it next to mine. The sight of them, side by side, is like fate leaving clues in fabric. So matchmaker of them.
When he looks at me again, everything in the small space tightens—the air, heat, and reason.
His fingertips drag along my jaw. The touch is feather-light but wrecks my pulse.
I lean in, my nose brushing his cheek. His skin smells like cedar.
“Jade,” he says quietly, warning and wanting tangled together with the desire to flip me over and pound me into the mattress.
I feel it. I want it. But this slow beat is spiking desire in me like I’ve never experienced.
“Yeah?”
He doesn’t answer.
His hand slides to the back of my neck and pulls me in. Our first kiss is slow. His breath mingles with mine, warm, heavy, tasting faintly of something dark and sweet.
My lips part and our tongues meet lazily, unhurried. He isn’t rushing and doesn’t press. We just linger. His mouth tastes like salt and something warm I can’t name, something that makes my knees weak.
The nylon rustles when I lean in without meaning to, chasing that slow drag of his tongue. My hands find his jaw. My fingertips trace the warmth of him, anchoring myself to the pace he’s set, slow, deep, and endless.
The kiss deepens just enough to make my pulse stumble. His hand finds the curve of my jaw, guiding my mouth closer until the kiss turns heavier, the kind that pulls little moans from the back of my throat.
My fingers twist in his shirt, holding him there, not to take more, to keep the moment from breaking.
The mattress groans under our weight, and he laughs against my mouth, soft and breathless. “This mattress isn’t going to survive us. It knows.”
I smile against his mouth. “Nice and gentle.” His chest rises against mine.
His hand slips to my waist, and every movement sparks a new patch of heat.
“Think we can keep quiet?” he whispers, grinning.
“Not a chance.”
His grin fades as he studies me. His eyes trace every inch like he’s memorizing something he already knows by heart.
And I love watching every second he does it. How his gaze lingers just a little longer on my mouth, and how his brows draw together like he’s trying to solve some unspoken thought.
I love the way he sees me, not just with his eyes but with something deeper, something that makes me feel both exposed and safe.
It’s in these still moments when he’s silent but sees everything that my heart slips further into his.
He leans in, and the space between us dissolves. Each breath and brush of his mouth feels like it could tip us over the edge if we let it.
He sits back as his fingers find the zipper of my sweater.
Slowly, he pulls it down my front. The heat of his hands presses through the soft fabric of my T-shirt.
My nipples tighten, and a sharp ache spreads through my chest and down to my core.
His fingers linger just a moment longer over the cotton covering my breasts. My skin tingles. Every nerve alive.
He slides it off my shoulder.
My heart thumps as I reach for his button-down.
I unfasten each button slowly, my fingers caressing the fabric as I work.
He watches me, calm and steady, eyes tracking every movement, not saying a word.
When the last button is free, I slide the shirt off his shoulders. My hands brush over the strength of his biceps and forearms. The faint warmth lingers where my palms pass.
He doesn’t move, letting me take my time, as the moment stretches out between us.
Then his hands move up my back, slipping beneath my T-shirt. His fingers trail up my spine, gathering the hem of my shirt until the warmth of his hand is against bare skin. It’s a slow process. Slow, hot, and sexy. When he finally pulls my shirt over my head, the fabric whispers in the stillness.
He pauses, just looking at me.
No words.
Just that look that makes my chest tighten.
I reach for him in return, tugging his shirt up. He helps, half-laughing when it catches on his shoulder.
We move without speaking. His thumb drags along my ribs. My hands explore the lines of his back. Every touch feels heavier than the last.
We rise to our knees, balancing no the mattress. He’s closer than I’ve ever let anyone else get. His bare skin brushes mine, heat radiating from his chest. My hands rest on his shoulders, taking in the strength beneath.
His heartbeat hammers in my chest, and his gaze pins me in place.
“You’re so beautiful, Jade.” His fingers trace up my arms. “This is all I’ve ever wanted. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”
My hands trail up her torso. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Jade Fox?”
“Yes?” My fingers graze the stubble on his chin.
“I love you.” His words hit the deepest part of my soul.
My fingers clutch his chin. “I love you too.” I drag his mouth to mine as his hands find my waist.
Our mouth laps slowly and tentatively at first, then deeper, more certain. Every movement sends sparks up my spine, a shiver curling low in my stomach.
My fingers press against the curve of his shoulders, the tautness of his muscles, absorbing the careful way he leans into me without rushing.
I tip closer, letting the kiss deepen, and the warmth of his chest presses into mine. My knees ache from being so close, but I don’t care. I’d stay like this forever, bathing in his gentle touch. Likely his hand on my back, steadying me.
Every brush of his lips, every heartbeat, every small press of his hands is a promise, is a quiet devotion, and I’m helpless against it, leaning into him, letting the moment impossibly long.
Eyes locked on mine for a heartbeat before his mouth presses soft kisses across my shoulders and collarbone.
His hands stay at my waist a moment longer before drifting up my sides and cupping over the fabric of my bra.
He traces the curves without rushing. Each feather-light glide of his fingers makes my breath hitch.
I arch instinctively into the warmth of him.
His lips continue their slow exploration, kissing near the tops of my shoulders, down toward the swell of my breasts.
His fingers brush the strap of my bra. I catch my breath as he slowly unhooks it and lets the fabric fall away. His large palms hover just above my breasts, his fingers splayed, his thumbs tracing lazy circles around my nipples, never quite touching them.
His lips part slightly, his tongue flicking out to wet them, and I imagine that tongue tracing the same path his thumbs have taken.
Each pass sends a jolt of electricity through me, my skin tightening, my breath hitching in my throat. I close my eyes, letting the sensations wash over me.
My nipples ache for more.
“Hart,” I whisper, my voice barely audible, a plea without words.
His mouth closes around one of my nipples.
I gasp, my head falling back as pleasure spikes through me.
His lips are soft yet firm, his tongue swirling around the peak before he sucks gently, then harder.
I moan, the sound escaping me before I can stop it.
“Don’t hold back.” His teeth graze the sensitive bud, just enough to make me squirm, and I tighten my grip on his hair.
Licking and nipping, he alternates between soft and firm. Each touch sends waves of pleasure crashing through me, making my toes curl and my thighs clench—hands everywhere, cupping and kneading my breasts, his thumbs flicking over my nipples. The trail of wet he leaves makes me want more.
“Mine.” He switches breasts, his hands worshipping my body with a tenderness that makes my heart ache.
He pinches my nipples, just enough to make me gasp, and I feel the tension coil tighter, the pleasure building to a crescendo. My pussy throbs, and my clit is aching. All from his mouth and hands on my breasts.
Gently, he lowers my back against the blow-up mattress. The fabric of the sleeping bag cools my back. My chest rises and falls, nipples hard in the cool tent air, bare from the waist up.
He hovers just above me for a moment, eyes flicking to mine, steady, reassuring, and patient.
Not for long.
He sits back on his legs and unbuttons my jeans. With an east tug, he slides them down my legs. My panties follow.
I bite my lip, heart hammering, watching him, feeling exposed and electric all at once. His gaze lingers, hungry, and I shiver under the heat of it.
He shifts, shedding his pants with a rough pull, revealing all the length I’ve been craving.
I bite my lip, chest rising and falling faster. Then he climbs on top, his hips aligning with mine, and slides inside me.