Chapter Thirteen
Amy stared up at the delicate silver moon hanging low in the inky black sky.
Inside the canopy of the mosquito net, it looked as if the world were draped in a fine, shimmering gauze.
The cloud-like mattress and cool, softly draped duvet should have been enough to pull her into oblivion until morning.
The duvet cover really did have a thread count of six hundred.
But no, Amy couldn’t sleep. Not a wink. And considering the reward only lasted for one night, it was borderline criminal.
She pressed her cheek deeper into the pillow and pulled the edge of the duvet right up to her chin.
The last time she’d slept on anything even remotely close to this comfortable was that old wool blanket Maeve had layered over the fresh hay in that deep red barn with its black slanted roof and white trim.
Then she’d felt like Heidi in her alpine loft and had instantly been lulled to sleep by Maeve’s steady snoring.
Tonight, however, there was no chance of that. Every single nerve ending in Amy’s body felt hyperaware, buzzing with a restless static.
Savannah was so distracting beside her.
All Amy could think about was that if she shifted her leg just a few inches to the left, she’d bump her knee against Savannah’s knee.
If she reached out her hand, her fingertips would brush the bare skin of Savannah’s forearm.
Being this close to her and not doing anything about it was driving Amy completely out of her mind.
“Are you awake?” Amy muttered so softly she barely heard herself speak. Then she waited for five seconds, and when Savannah didn’t say anything, she shifted to turn around, because seriously, wasn’t it better to let sleeping dogs lie?
But then Savannah turned her head toward her.
Under the moonlight, Amy could see her lips, silver and slick, resting just a breath apart as if she were on the verge of exhaling a secret.
If this were a scene in her book, the protagonist would lean over and run the very tip of her finger along the soft, velvety curve of that lip.
“Are you struggling to sleep?” Savannah whispered.
Amy nodded, then remembered Savannah was night blind. Could she even see her? “Yes,” Amy muttered softly, just in case. The last thing Amy wanted was for Savannah to think that she’d imagined Amy speaking and then gone back to bed. “Did I wake you?”
“No,” Savannah said, shaking her head. “I can’t sleep either.”
Did Amy dare tell her why she couldn’t sleep? Would asking Savannah if her heart was pounding as fast as her own and if she also wanted to run her fingers along every inch of her exposed skin as badly as she did be completely inappropriate?
But even if she did, the lean-to was less than fifty yards away.
Wyn slept so lightly that she would poke Amy hard in the ribs whenever Amy so much as sighed a little too loudly.
Luna spoke in her sleep about jet skis every now and then, but apart from the rumble of the ocean as the waves crashed against the shore, there was no other noise to combat the moans that Amy wouldn’t be able to keep trapped behind her teeth if her hands wandered anywhere near Savannah’s.
Not even a snorer. And wouldn’t a loud sawing of logs literally have provided the perfect cover for what Amy wanted to do?
The mattress suddenly dipped. Amy’s breath hitched as she realized that Savannah had moved closer.
Then, because she couldn’t help it, because the heat radiating off Savannah’s body was like the damn sun burning away all her control, she whispered, “It’s driving me crazy to think that I can reach out and touch you, but I’m not allowed to. ”
“Why?” Savannah asked, her voice barely a thread.
What did she mean by why?
“Because if I touch you,” Amy murmured, her hand finally bridging the gap between them until it came to rest against the warm, trembling skin of Savannah’s hip. “I won’t be able to stop.”
Savannah let out a soft, almost fractured breath.
Savannah didn’t pull away as Amy expected.
This was reckless, after all, and Savannah had clearly said she didn’t want to sleep with Amy again.
Instead, her fingers reached up and traced the curve of Amy’s collarbone.
An entire constellation of goosebumps erupted across Amy’s skin. She literally shuddered.
“Then don’t stop,” Savannah whispered, her face inching even closer until she breathed against Amy’s lips. “I want this too. You have no idea how much I want this.”
That was all Amy needed. It was the spark that nearly set the entire island on fire.
Amy closed the final fraction of an inch until her mouth slid against Savannah’s mouth.
Then Savannah’s tongue slipped through Amy’s slightly parted lips and brushed against hers, and Amy lost her train of thought completely...
along with every last bit of her inhibitions.
She tugged Savannah’s bottom lip gently between her teeth and then moved, sliding her thigh over Savannah’s hips until she sat above her, straddling her.
The duvet fell like water off her back, and before considering that a member of production might be skulking around the beach, she yanked her pajama top over her head and tossed it onto the pillow.
She didn’t say anything. Savannah didn’t either.
To speak was more dangerous than playing with fire.
Amy leaned forward enough to plant her palms on Savannah’s stomach.
Then she smoothed them upward, dragging the hem of her tank top along until her breasts were exposed, until Amy could see every part of Savannah in the moonlight: her silver, creamy skin, her hard, dark nipples and the swell of her perfect, full breasts.
Fuck. She was so beautiful Amy nearly whimpered.
Then she did. Though softly, thankfully, when Savannah’s hands ran up Amy’s torso to her ribs.
When the book critic’s thumbs brushed over Amy’s nipples, they hardened beneath her touch, just as the rest of Amy’s body responded. Her clit was literally throbbing.
“This is a bad idea,” Savannah muttered, taking one nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Amy’s eyes snapped shut just as she squeezed. This was a bad idea. A very bad idea. There was no way Amy was going to get through it without making a peep.
“No sounds,” Amy whispered, more as an instruction to herself.
She lowered her body until their breasts met, nipple for nipple, and then she kissed Savannah harder than before.
Teeth and tongues clinked just a little too loudly in the silence, but Amy couldn’t stop.
She was so hot for Savannah she was literally on fire.
Amy shifted her body just a little to the side and then slid her hand down Savannah’s right thigh, then brought it back up the inner side of the left.
She dipped her fingers beneath the cotton of her panties and teased her wet folds, circling once before she moved north, smoothing over Savannah’s stomach until she closed them around a plump breast. She squeezed tenderly, lovingly, sensually.
Savannah moaned, and Amy immediately hushed her. She clapped her free hand over Savannah’s mouth and whispered against her cheek. “Don’t make a sound, remember.”
Savannah nodded, then Amy slid her hand down again, this time dipping her fingers into her sex.
And not just once. Over and over. Two fingers, then three.
Savannah’s body reacted exactly as she’d expected.
The faster Amy slid in and out, the faster Savannah rolled her hips against Amy’s wrist. If Amy got tendinitis from this, it would be so worth it.
She licked a strip along Savannah’s neck and immediately thought of something more delicious to lick.
She was desperate for a taste of Savannah and was just about to slide down Savannah like a drop of hot wax, but then Savannah was biting her shoulder, her teeth raking against her skin.
“Did you finish?” she muttered against Savannah’s jaw.
But Savannah didn’t respond. Before Amy could ask again, Savannah flipped her onto her back. It was so quick, so sudden, it took Amy a second to orient herself. The stars were bright above her head, the crescent moon too, but where had Savannah gone?
And then, Savannah’s tongue hit her clit like a hot streak of summer lightning.
Amy didn’t even have a chance to wonder how Savannah had managed to slip off Amy’s panties while she was flipping her onto her back.
All she could feel was the electric touch of her tongue and the sharpness of her fingernails as she dug into the inside of Amy’s thighs.
Obediently, Amy parted her legs, opening herself up even further.
She couldn’t help it. Then she bucked against Savannah’s face in what had to be the most inelegant way.
Did she care? Not even a little. Not with Savannah dragging her tongue deep through Amy’s center, dipping into and out of her folds over and over until Amy couldn’t buck her hips fast enough.
She was fighting every moan that clawed up the back of her throat.
It was as if Savannah knew this. She licked a stripe up to Amy’s clit, then tongued that little bud before she sucked on it.
Amy was so close to coming she could literally feel the orgasm spreading through her veins.
Twenty seconds later, though it felt like one, Savannah slipped a finger into her and began moving it in and out.
But she had barely gotten to a count of three before Amy’s body exploded.
A scream loud enough to wake every animal, every contestant, every member of the camera crew threatened to burst from her throat.
The only way to keep from crying out was to sink her teeth hard into her own wrist. Amy would be shocked if she didn’t wake up tomorrow with a dark ring of teeth marks to prove it.
“Did you like that?” Savannah muttered against her ear once she’d crawled back up. She moved to lie next to Amy before slinging her arm over Amy’s bare stomach. “Because it sounded like you did. Or, more accurately, it felt like you did.”
“You have no idea,” Amy said, feeling lighter than a soap bubble. She nearly laughed out loud. Instead, she yawned and felt the sleep that she was desperate for. “Do you think anyone heard?”
“I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”
Amy nodded. She couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer, and she didn’t fight it. She turned her head just enough to kiss Savannah’s temple, breathed in the sweet scent of her skin, and let the darkness pull her under.
Then, all of a sudden, a voice yelled, and Amy’s eyes snapped open.
It was already morning. The sun was up above the horizon, and the sky was streaked with soft ribbons of pink that were rapidly being swallowed by a bright blue.
“What the hell is this?” a voice suddenly shot out.
Before Amy could even register the voice, she was scrambling back to her side of the bed, her hand instinctively going out to push herself away from Savannah. Shit. They were caught red-handed, and Amy was literally still naked. How were they going to explain what they’d done last night?
But her palm hit air instead. Savannah wasn’t in bed. Her side of the mattress was empty.
“What’s going on?” Amy asked, dragging herself upright and tugging the sheet up with her.
Then she tried to act as normally as possible, though who was she actually fooling?
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes just as Luna marched toward her.
Most mornings, Amy needed a good five minutes to remember where she was.
She usually started with the neon-pink flamingo lamp perched on the armoire, then moved on to the framed photo of Barnaby licking his paw on the nightstand.
This morning, one look at the fury on Luna’s face snapped her fully awake.
“I can’t believe you two,” Luna said, seething. She waved a small scrap of paper violently in the air. “This was lying on the ground. Care to explain?”
Amy squinted at the paper, then, a second later, a light bulb went off in her head. “Shit,” she muttered.
“Shit is right,” Luna scolded, shaking her head in disappointment. “I can’t believe you had the chance to invite two of us to enjoy the reward and you decided not to. Do you have any idea how selfish that was?” She slapped the card against her palm with a loud thwack.
But Amy stopped listening. Her eyes were frantically scanning the beach, the lean-to, and the tree line. Where the hell was Savannah?