No Limos Allowed

Just Add Tent

Maisie

We barely made it to the back room before Griff shut the door behind us. With the lights off, the windowless space fell into shadow, lit only by the faint glow of the emergency light over the back door.

It was just enough to barely see him and fall back into his arms as he pulled me close and whispered my name.

Dark, light, I didn't care. All I wanted was him. My back hit the nearest wall with a soft thud, and his mouth returned to mine – hot, demanding, and addictive.

His hands gripped my hips, and my fingers found the hem of his shirt, dragging it up over his head like I'd wanted to do out front. I flung it somewhere in the shadows, not caring where it landed or how this might've looked in the muted light of the rain-soaked day.

I relished the near-darkness. I relished him . I relished this.

Somewhere behind me, a box tipped over and something metal clattered to the floor. I didn't even look. I was too far gone to think about gear or gravity or anything else that wasn't Griff.

"Where – " His lips moved to my throat. " – is the tent?" Already, his hands were on my shirt, tugging it over my head.

Who said anything about a tent? I was gasping now. "Corner." I managed to point, even as my shirt hit the floor. "But forget the tent. We just need the sleeping bag."

He pulled back, breathing hard. "Maisie..."

I was already envisioning us naked. "Yeah?"

His hands slid up my back, warm and steady. With maddening precision, he unhooked my bra and murmured, "You're dangerous, you know that?"

I had never been called dangerous before, and I kind of liked it. I gasped as the straps loosened. With a breathless smile, I said, "Hey, you're the one undressing me."

"Only a little."

Desperately, I yanked off the bra and flung it over my shoulder. "There," I said. "Now we can skip the tent."

But instead of pinning me to the wall, he stepped back and said with a smile, "We're still setting it up."

I blinked. "Wait… seriously? Now?" Good Lord . That would take ages. The tent was a recent birthday gift from my mom, and I'd never actually used it. Cripes, I'd barely opened the box. And forget the instructions. Even if it took five minutes, that was far too long.

But here in the shadows, Griff was nodding. "I'm not laying you down next to a bucket of tire patches." And with that, he turned away and headed toward the corner.

I called out, "Why not?"

"Because you deserve better."

Already, I was aching with need. Nearly panting, I said, "I don't need a tent. I just need you."

He turned and gave me a look – a maddening, half-smile, half-challenge that was barely visible in the shadows. Then he said it – a claim so cocky, it had to be a joke. "I can set it up in two minutes."

I grinned. "Liar." The sentiment fit, because yeah, my pants were most definitely on fire. I hesitated. Or was it supposed to be his pants? Whatever. I still didn't want to wait. But already, he was dragging out the box containing the tent.

Just then, a crack of thunder rattled the shelves, making me jump as the light disappeared entirely, bathing the room in total darkness.

Yup, there goes the power, alright. "See?" I laughed. "You can't set it up now ."

When he spoke, there was a smile in his voice. "Now you're just being unreasonable."

"Why?"

He chuckled. "Because I can't 'see' anything." Somewhere in the darkness, I heard a clatter and a clunk.

"Then what are you doing? I hear clunking."

"Yeah, because I'm setting up the tent."

"In the dark?"

"Sure, unless you've got a flashlight."

Out front, there had to be at least some light coming in through the windows. "I could always open the door – you know, the connecting one."

"Forget it."

"Why?"

"Because we're not putting on a show."

A show, huh? Recalling what I'd said to him only a few minutes ago, I couldn't help but giggle. "Hey! You're using my own words against me."

"Damn straight."

He was right, of course. For all I knew, Franny was already peeking in through the glass. At the mere thought, I smiled in the darkness. "I might have a flashlight on the work bench."

"That's alright," he said. "I'm halfway done."

No freaking way. "You can't be."

"Why not?"

"Because it's been like two seconds."

He laughed. "So who's the liar now? "

Laughing, I blindly reached out, hoping to find him in the void. When I didn't, I took a single, tentative step forward.

From somewhere unseen, he said, "Don't move."

I froze. "Wait…how'd you know I was moving?"

"I could hear you. But stay put, alright?"

I heard dragging, some clattering, and maybe another clunk or two as I waited breathlessly in the dark. Finally, I heard a loud zip – not from clothing, but from a zippered tent flap, unless my memories of camping were deceiving me.

After more rustling in the darkness, he announced, "Done!"

He sounded so proud, I almost snickered. "Wait…where did you even put it?"

"Right in the middle," he said. "Cleared a spot between the shelving racks. It fits fine."

I laughed. "Seriously? That fast?"

"That fast," he repeated, sounding sinfully cocky.

And me? I was sinfully impressed. Carefully, I shuffled forward, one hand outstretched like a cartoon character in the dark. Soon, I bumped into something soft and nylon-y. "Oh my God. You really did it."

"Told ya." He gave a low chuckle. "I even unrolled the sleeping bag."

I felt giddy with promise. "You're insane."

"Nah, I'm just motivated."

He was closer now. I could hear it in his voice and sense it in the air. When his fingers brushed mine, I gave a happy little shiver. "Funny, I'm feeling motivated, too."

His tone grew teasing. "Then get in before I change my mind and bend you over the work bench."

The image that filled my brain was so delightfully obscene that I considered abandoning the tent entirely. Breathlessly, I said, "Maybe you should."

"Or maybe," he said, giving my hand a gentle tug, "you should get your ass in that tent before I toss you in myself."

I laughed. "You wouldn't dare."

"Not on tile," he admitted. "But give me a beach, and all bets are off."

Sex on the beach – now that was a nice thought, too. But forget thinking. Still laughing under my breath, I quickly ducked into the tent and flopped onto the sleeping bag that he'd spread out like a rugged, comfy nest.

Outside, the storm was still throwing a fit, pelting the rooftop with thundering rain. But here in the tent? Everything was soft and cozy.

Griff crawled in after me, sealing the flap with a practiced zip that sounded way too suggestive now that I was close.

He pulled me into his arms. "There you are."

Yup, here I was, alright . And there was no place on Earth I'd rather be. But I didn't say it, because it felt like too much, too soon, and boldness only went so far. So instead, I kissed him like the world was ending, which might be the case, considering the raging storm.

His bare chest pressed against mine, but it wasn't nearly enough. We were still wearing far too many clothes, including his jeans and the black slacks I'd worn to that stupid meeting.

On the upside, neither of us were wearing shoes or socks. I'd shuffled off mine ages ago, and Griff's were gone, too – apparently flung off to wherever before he'd crawled in.

Smart man.

Without breaking the kiss, I slid one leg over his, trying to get as close as possible. The sleeping bag bunched beneath us, but I hardly cared. His hands moved over my back, down to my hips, and then hooked into the waistband of my slacks.

He broke the kiss just long enough to murmur, "These have got to go."

I was already reaching for the button of his jeans. "Only if yours do too."

We fumbled through it together, blind in the dark, all fingers and urgency. His jeans went first, kicked into some random corner of the tent. My own pants followed with less grace – at one point, I got a foot stuck and ended up laughing into his shoulder.

He was laughing too. "Don't hurt yourself."

I gave him a playful swat to the chest. "Then stop being so distracting."

When he slid down my panties, I shoved down his briefs with an urgency that should've been embarrassing. But it wasn't. I was far too gone for anything like that.

When I felt his erection against my hip, I marveled at the size of it, the feel of it, the promise of it. I reached between us and wrapped my fingers around his length just as his hand found its way between my thighs.

The moment he touched me – really touched me – I gasped into his mouth. His fingers were gentle at first, tracing soft circles that made my breath catch and my hips arch. He groaned, low and rough, like he was barely holding himself back.

He brushed his lips against my temple. "You're already so wet. You have no idea what that's doing to me."

I didn't answer. I couldn't. My whole body had gone electric, every nerve tuned to the slow, torturous rhythm of his hand.

His mouth moved to my throat as his fingers dipped deeper. I moaned, soft and unguarded, as he found that one special spot that made my toes nearly curl.

"That's it," he whispered, stroking me with maddening precision. "Just like that."

I clung to his shoulders, lost in the sensation, my hips moving without permission as his touch drove me higher. The tent, the storm, the tile floor outside – all of it faded. There was only this. Only him.

And when I came, I did it with a cry I didn't bother to stifle, my body shuddering against his as my heart pounded like the rain on the rooftop.

He held me through it, one hand still cupping me, the other stroking my hair as I buried my face in his neck, breathless and undone.

For a heartbeat, I just lay there, trembling, stunned by how completely he'd unraveled me.

When I could finally speak, my voice came out shaky and small. "Wow."

He chuckled. "Told you I was good with my hands."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Wait, I was the one who said that." It was true. I'd said this to him just yesterday when he'd fixed a busted brake line in five minutes flat.

His voice was cocky in the darkness. "Yeah, but I didn't argue, did I?"

Still catching my breath, I let my hand trail lazily down his chest. "Good point."

And tonight, he had fixed me .

An hour ago, I'd felt utterly broken.

Not anymore.

Now, all I felt was bliss.

The rain drummed steadily overhead. The tent was safe and warm. I didn't want to move. I didn't want to think.

But did want him. And I was just about to show him how much, when a sudden realization made me freeze. "I just realized something."

"What?"

I winced. "I should've brought a condom. You don't – ?"

"Hang on…" I heard the rustle of fabric as he reached toward the corner of the tent.

Overcome with relief, I snickered in the dark. "Wait…the tent came with a condom?"

He laughed. "No, I grabbed it from my wallet when I set it up."

"Wow. You really are good."

"So are you."

"Oh, please." I smiled. "You haven't seen anything yet." In the darkness, I found his hand and plucked the foil packet from his grip, feeling a rush of nerves and boldness as my fingers curled around it.

He didn't move. He didn't even breathe. I felt the shift in the air between us as I whispered, "Let me." Carefully, I tore open the wrapper and reached toward his pelvis.

My hands found him easily, guided by heat and instinct. I held him steady as I slid the condom into place, fingers trembling from anticipation, not fear. He let out a low groan that shot straight through me, raw and reverent.

"Maisie…" His voice cracked, full of everything I was feeling – need, wonder, and restraint hanging by a thread.

I didn't want restraint.

I whispered his name and lowered myself onto his length.

When our bodies joined, it was the kind of connection that made me feel whole and happy like the world had finally stopped spinning.

And when we began to move, our hips rising and falling in a steady rhythm, it was everything I'd ever wanted. Somewhere between the moaning and muscle contractions, I remembered to say it. "Okay…you win. The tent was totally worth it."

He laughed against my neck. "Damn right it was."

He kissed me again, murmuring my name against the curve of my shoulder as he rolled me onto my back and drove in deeper. I wrapped my legs around him, pulled him tighter, and held on like the world outside didn't exist.

For that moment, it didn't.

There was no storm. No looming debt. No ticking clock.

There was only Griff. And that was enough. Correction – it was more than enough.

And when we reached a glorious climax, I felt pure bliss as he shuddered against me, whispering words that were achingly sweet, like I wasn't just some girl in a storm, and he wasn't just some guy passing through.

He whispered against my neck, "You're amazing. You know that?"

I smiled against his skin. "Hey, you were the one who set up the tent."

"But you were the one who made it worth it."

It was such a sweet thought, I didn't stop to question it, just like later on, I didn't question the sanity of drifting off naked in his arms in what should be a place of business, not romantic bliss.

But I didn't care.

This was my business. And while I still had it, I could do anything I wanted. So I slept in his arms, peaceful and spent – until I dreamed of someone pounding on the door.

What door?

I had no idea – until I slowly realized something. It wasn't a dream.

And I was alone.

Maybe.

Still half-asleep, I whispered his name. "Griff?"