Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Isla
As dusk settles around us, Travis and I finish erecting the tent.
He told his brothers he was going camping for the weekend, and I made up an excuse to leave the weekly Friday night gathering at The Third Rail early. I don’t think anyone suspected anything.
“Let’s get our things set up in the tent, then we can make a snack over the campfire,” Travis says.
“Sounds good.” I walk behind him to his truck and grab both our bags, while he grabs an air mattress and a pump out of the truck cab.
Once we’re in the tent, I place our bags off to the side, and he spreads the air mattress out, attaching the pump.
“Why do I feel you probably never use an air mattress? It looks brand new.”
He chuckles and looks up at me as the pump inflates the mattress. “It is new. But I couldn’t have you sleeping on the hard ground. I want you to enjoy this so you do it with me again.”
I crawl forward and rise onto my knees in front of him. “Air mattress or not, I’d want to do this again with you.” I place a chaste kiss on his cheek.
I’ve never considered myself outdoorsy, but I’m really looking forward to this weekend away with Travis. He’s an outdoorsman, and I can’t wait to watch him in his element.
“You say that now, but wait until you’re peeing in the wilderness.”
I laugh. “True. Us girls certainly don’t have it as easy as you guys.”
“Speaking of which, I have something for you.”
I flutter my eyelashes and bring my hand to my chest. “First an air mattress, and now something else. You’re spoiling me.”
Travis looks over his shoulder at me with a blank expression, which only makes me laugh again. He pulls something out from his bag and passes it over to me.
I read the words on the box: Female Urination Device.
“It’s so you can pee standing up,” he says.
From the picture on the box, it looks like a hot pink funnel that you place over your mound that acts like a penis, directing your pee away. No squatting for me.
“This is the strangest and yet most thoughtful gift I’ve ever gotten. Thank you.” I smile. The fact that he thought so much about my comfort on this trip—the air mattress, now this—causes a warm feeling to expand my chest.
His face flushes a little red like he’s embarrassed by my words.
After the air mattress is blown up and we’ve added our sleeping bags and pillows to the top of it, we head outside. Travis starts a fire like a pro, then goes to the bin to grab some snacks. He returns to the fire with a box that says S’mores on the side.
My stomach gurgles. “I haven’t had s’mores since I was a teenager.” I take the box he offers me, a look of amusement on his face.
In his other hand are double-pronged marshmallow roasting sticks with wooden handles.
“These are awesome.” I take the one he hands me and set it on my lap while I open the box.
Travis sits in the folding chair beside me. He looks so hot tonight, especially in his element. I love seeing him in his T-shirts that show off his hard and defined muscles, but there’s something super sexy about him in a thick flannel jacket with a Henley underneath. It’s cooler at night now, but not so much that my teeth are chattering, and I can’t get warm.
I open the box, retrieving the marshmallows and graham crackers. “Are you going to make one?”
“Of course. Can’t let you have all the fun.” He smiles when I pass him a marshmallow.
Once we both have the marshmallows on roasting sticks, we lean forward in our chairs and hold them over the fire.
“How do you like your marshmallows?” I ask.
A second later, he lowers the tip of his roasting stick, and the marshmallow goes up in flames. “Black.”
I cringe. “How can you ruin a good marshmallow? Golden brown is the way to go.” I twirl my stick so that the other side of the marshmallow gets the heat.
He stands and walks over to me, pulling a graham cracker from the package on my lap. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“Ha! You, sir, are wrong. Let me show you what a good s’mores should look like.” I pull my perfectly browned marshmallow from the fire and slide it onto a graham cracker, then put a piece of chocolate on top before adding another graham cracker on top. “Now this is perfection.” I lick my lips, anticipating how good it will taste when I sink my teeth into it.
I glance at Travis to see him watching my lips, and I press my thighs together. When I take a big bite, the warm, gooey marshmallow oozes into my mouth, mixed with the sweetness of chocolate and the graham cracker. “Mmm,” I moan.
One of these will not be enough tonight.
Travis doesn’t eat his but watches me devour mine with a gleam in his eye.
By the time I’m finished, my fingers are sticky, so I bring them to my mouth to lick off one by one.
“You’ve got some on your face,” Travis says.
My cheeks heat in embarrassment. I probably looked like a starved animal hoovering it into my mouth. “Where?”
“Right…” He stands from his chair and bends down in front of me. “Here.” Travis brings his mouth to mine, licking the seam of my lips.
He deepens the kiss, and I try to keep my hands off of him because they’re so sticky, but I end up gripping his flannel shirt in my fist, not wanting to end the kiss, enjoying the sweetness of the marshmallow on his tongue.
“Isla…”
He says my name like a question. Do I want to continue making s’mores by the fire, or do I want to ditch all the stuff on my lap and have him for dessert instead?
I choose wisely.