28. Chapter 28
Chapter twenty-eight
Jonathan
W ow.
There she was, trying to take care of him again. She didn’t have to do that. Lucy owed Jonathan nothing, yet she continually thought of him and his comfort.
The heat at his neck bloomed down his chest, taking on a different form. Appreciation.
I could get used to this.
The thought skittered through his mind, and he shook it away as he acknowledged the facts. She was not his. She was never going to be his because if she was . . .
He might lose her.
The notion was suffocating, and Jonathan quickly banished the feelings.
He let out a sigh. She was right. He’d probably feel better after getting cleaned up a bit. In the morning, he would wake up feeling more like himself. Then they could get the hell out of there and back to town, where Jonathan could resume his trusty routine and responsibility-free social life.
He unfastened the buttons along his shirt and removed the plaid layer with Lucy’s help. Then, grasping the hem, he carefully peeled off his sweaty T-shirt with a slightly pained grunt. Lucy folded both and set them on one end of the log. She handed him the neon pink top and set about removing his boots. He held the shirt in his hands, taking in the brightness of the fabric and thinking how well it hugged Lucy’s curves. Glancing down at the top of her head as she freed a double knot from his bootlaces, he swallowed convulsively. He really needed to keep his thoughts in check while she was down there or she’d be getting an awkward eyeful of his reaction to her.
Jonathan began washing his arms and chest, looking anywhere except for her head bobbing around as she worked to loosen his other boot. The smell of cooling peppermint wafted up, and he focused his attention on the soothing, calming scent. He swiped the fragrant cloth across his armpits and belly. But when he tried to reach his back, he hissed in pain.
Whatever, half-clean is better than nothing at all.
“Here,” Lucy said. Having removed his second boot, she reached out her hand.
“You don’t have to.” Jonathan pulled the tank back to his chest to keep her from snatching it away. Her glittering eyes followed the movement and lingered on his bare torso. He thought he saw hunger on her face as she licked her lips, but before he could make a joke about how he wasn’t a hamburger on legs, she spoke.
“I’ll help. It’s no big deal.” Her voice was strained yet resolute.
Jonathan grunted and handed over the makeshift rag. Lucy dipped it in the warm water, rang it out gently, and moved around to his back. She hesitated, almost catching Jonathan by surprise when she finally wiped in slow, steady movements across his shoulders. A single drip broke free and slid down the length of his spine. Lucy’s gentle fingers swiped it away just before it hit the waist of his pants. Her touch was electric, and Jonathan’s muscles clenched at the contact.
“Relax. Tensing up won’t help.” Her breathy admonishment tickled over his damp shoulders, a chill rippled through him, and his belly tightened. Blood began making its way to parts of him that he’d been trying so hard to keep unresponsive. Getting an erection would be . . . not great, and Jonathan didn’t want to do anything to make Lucy feel uncomfortable, especially since they’d be sharing a hammock for at least one more night.
For the first time in probably fifteen years, he intentionally focused on un-sexy thoughts.
Baseball.
Orthodontia.
Sauerkraut.
Sweaty armpits.
Sweat, in general.
Sweaty Lucy.
A drop of sweat sliding down between Lucy’s full breasts and over her belly as she sits astride my . . .
This isn’t working!
Before Jonathan could hatch another plan of defense, Lucy chirped a cheerful, “All done.”
Thank god.
She handed him the pink tank top and turned toward his bag. “I’m going to grab a clean shirt. Well, the cleanest one you have. You handle your legs and feet.”
Opting not to remove his pants and reveal the semi he was sporting, Jonathan rolled up each pant leg and washed away the coating of sweat and grime. Dropping the cloth back into the now lukewarm pot, he was amazed at how refreshed he already felt.
“Jackpot!” Lucy whooped with glee after digging through his backpack.
“What is it?” Jonathan asked as she reappeared behind him. Reaching over his shoulder, she wiggled a tiny jar in front of his face. The familiar scent of lavender, eucalyptus, and coconut oil seeped through the sealed container, and he sighed in relief. “I forgot all about the back salve.”
The tinny sound of a metal lid being twisted off a glass jar had a Pavlovian effect. He could already feel the soothing effects, and the salve wasn’t even on him yet. He reached out to take the jar, and Lucy slapped his hand away.
Before he could protest, she began rubbing his lower back in strong, massaging circles. Jonathan slumped forward with an absurdly loud groan, elbows resting on his knees. Defenseless against her ministrations, he relaxed into them instead.
“How does that feel?” she asked with a giggle.
“Like heaven.”
“I’m glad.”
Jonathan had no idea how long Lucy worked on his lower back. He was caught squarely between relaxed oblivion and sexual tension and had lost all capacity for rational thought. All he could manage to register was her hands sliding over his skin, working to dispel the pain that had been nagging him all day. The contact of her fingertips left trails of heat that pulsated throughout his body. His willpower, steadily disintegrating under her touch, barely hung on by a thread.
Until he couldn’t anymore.
As Lucy finished and stepped over the log, she rested a hand on his shoulder to keep her balance. Jonathan reached out on impulse. He slid a hand to her hip and looked up into her glittering green eyes. A little gasp gave away her desire almost as effectively as her flushed cheeks and blown pupils. He hauled her side saddle onto his lap, her startled throaty sigh inciting his own passionate groan. She fit perfectly on his lap. Small, by comparison, she had to look up to meet his hungry gaze. He combed a hand through her hair, marveling at the softness playing through his fingers .
“Such perfection. It’s been agony keeping my hands off you.” Her eyes widened with surprise. How could she not know? His lust for her had been emanating from him since before they’d even met. He spent half of their trip convincing his dick to calm the hell down. “Tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t feel the same.”
They sat there, staring at each other, breath rushing in and out of their lungs in a hasty, disjointed rhythm. He slowly guided her hand to where he pressed against the confines of his pants. His breath hitched as her fingers gently grazed his reaction to her.
“See what you do to me—what you’ve been doing to me since I first saw you at The Rooftop. Do you want me just as badly, sunshine?” His voice emerged jaggedly, and he was convinced that if she denied him, he would shatter. But he waited patiently because the only way he wanted her was if she felt the same.
Her tiny nod was nearly imperceptible, and he wouldn’t have caught it had he not been so utterly enthralled by each of her infinitesimal movements. But he hadn’t missed it, the affirmative dip of her chin, and a shock wave of desire radiated outward from his core. He gently pulled her closer, tipping her face to meet his. He lightly grazed his lips back and forth across hers. They were so full and soft, and he cursed himself for not remembering how perfectly they had fit against his the first time they’d kissed.
Lucy fidgeted on his thighs, shifting around as though she were searching for friction. Featherlight, she trailed her fingers upward, taking a quick detour to explore the dusting of hair on his chest. Her palms skimmed his nipples, eliciting a throaty rumble from Jonathan, then continued up to his shoulders. Searing heat lingered on his skin everywhere she touched then morphed into cooling tingles from the residual balm on her soft, exploratory fingers.
He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, teasing them until they parted. He responded to the submission by delving in and tasting her sweetness, a mimicking prelude to the pleasure he’d devote to the rest of her curvy little body should he be given the chance. The need to devour her was borderline unbearable, and he grappled with restraint, waiting for her to guide him through the sinfully decadent terrain.
He wanted this, but he wanted to be sure she did too.
Lucy carefully adjusted her position and, without breaking the kiss, settled a leg on either side so she sat astride his lap, pressing more firmly against him. She draped her arms around his tense shoulders and scraped her fingernails along the nape of his neck.
Releasing the satiny thickness of her hair from his grip, Jonathan raked his hands down her sides and buried them beneath her shirt. He palmed her back, flattening her breasts against his chest. The buttons on her shirt pressed into his skin, applying a stinging hint of pain, all while she focused her squirms into an achingly slow, steady rhythm.
Lucy slid a hand between them, placing a palm directly over his heart. He understood the gesture and pulled back to respect her wish to slow down. But she surprised him by lifting her arms languidly above her head, glancing down at her shirt, and then back up at him. Jonathan had no clue how he kept himself from ripping the shirt open so buttons flew everywhere. Instead, he followed her request and lifted the hem slowly up and off. Her shimmering hair tumbled around her, landing just above her elbows. She gave a wanton smile, bottom lip captured between her teeth. Slowly, she reached around behind her back and unclasped her sports bra. The fuchsia straps slipped from her lightly freckled shoulders and fell about her waist, revealing the most breathtakingly beautiful breasts he’d ever witnessed.
Jonathan thanked his lucky stars for the enchantress before him. He thanked her ex for setting her free. He even thanked that damned landslide for trapping them together. He didn’t deserve this.
Didn’t deserve her.
And yet, as she arched her back, offering herself to him, Jonathan found he could not deny her. He dipped his head and created lazy circles around her pert nipple, pulling her more tightly to him with each of her unintelligible whimpers. He flicked his tongue over the tip, slowly at first, then with increasing speed and pressure. Her hips began a slow rhythmic glide forward and back against his legs. Each time, she would brush against his aching erection, then pull away, brush against, then pull away.
Jonathan slowly descended into madness.
The scent of cooling eucalyptus and peppermint was a euphoric contrast against the heady warmth of her arousal. Lucy’s moans and gasps of pleasure intensified, overpowering the crackling of the fire. Jonathan pulled back and paused to take in the sight of her before dipping to give equal attention to her other breast. Head thrown back and flames dancing behind her, Lucy was a vision. A goddess fully giving herself over to unbridled indulgence and sensuality.
He cupped her buttocks as her hips slipped back and forth on his lap, adding delicious pressure to the motion. His arousal pulsed with each skim, and he licked and sucked her with the same cadence as she built to a sweeping crescendo.
“Oh,” she gasped. “Oh . . . please.”
Is she about to . . .?
She was going to come, and it would be Jonathan’s undoing. He groaned and sucked harder. She moved faster. Then he grazed his teeth lightly over her pearled nipple, and she jerked her hips forward.
And Jonathan let out a sharp, unholy yelp of pain.