I tug on the ends of her hair. “Covington, the romantic.”
“Shut up.” She slaps my bicep as that blush I love fills her cheeks.
I lower my face to hers, and she kisses me. This one feels different, not stemming from jealousy, or attraction, or lust. It’s a confession of her feelings for me.
And I’ll be damned if I screw this up.
“I’m starting to see the appeal of this monstrosity.” Isla lies on her back with her eyes closed across the blanket I’ve spread on my truck bed. Specks of sunlight dance across her face, shining through the trees overhead. We have another hour or two before the sun sets and we’re drenched in darkness, before we can slip into the lake for a night swim.
“Monstrosity,” I repeat with a hint of amusement.
She cracks one eye open, throwing her arm up to shield the sun. “This truck and I have a complicated history.”
“Not for me,” I say, settling against the side of the truck.
“Well, obviously not. I was the aggrieved party thanks to…” She slaps a hand to the wall of the truck, sending a flock of birds scattering from a nearby tree.
“Oh, I took the most damage that day.”
Her eyebrow raises. “I wasn’t that mean. More loud—”
“I’m not talking about anything you said. Your existence was all it took.” I think about stopping there, not wanting to confess too much too early. But then, I look at Isla, who’s staring at me through her lashes, quietly waiting for me to continue. I can’t deny her. “I was wrecked because even though I’d seen you on TV countless times through the years, it didn’t hold a candle to seeing you in person, and—”
Isla shifts into a sitting position, smoothing her dress over her legs as she sits criss-cross. “Wait—you watched me compete on TV?”
“Not the point, Red.”
“What is the point, Wes?” She grins at me.
“Getting yelled at over the car was annoying, but it was eclipsed pretty fucking quickly by how unnervingly stunning you looked when your face turned the shade of a tomato.”
“That’swhy you call me Red? I thought it was because of my hair.”
Isla crawls toward me, maneuvering around our food. She lifts her dress, draping one leg over me to land to the right of my hip, and I catch a flash of her thigh. Her left follows the same pattern until she’s in my lap, cradled against me.
My hands land on her hips. “I love how you look when you’re giving me shit. Even though you’re a pain in my ass,” I breathe against her neck, pulling her tighter to me.
“You’ll forget all about that in a minute,” she whispers, pressing her lips beneath my ear.
I sigh, my eyes closing from that simple touch and the anticipation of the next one. “Isla?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re working me up to the point of no return.”
“Yeah?” Her hips rotate forward as she continues, planting soft, teasing kisses down my neck. “That’s the goal.”
I’m rigid in seconds.
“We shouldn’t do this out here.” My hands slip beneath her dress, skimming along the soft skin of her thighs. She’s fuckingheavenlybeneath my fingers.
She pulls back and meets my gaze. “You want to stop?”
“No.” My response is immediate, my wants rebelling against logic.
“Wes, I want you now. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” She guides my hands higher, shoving aside her panties. “Feel how ready I am for you.”
“Shit, Isla,” I hiss. My fingers apply pressure to her clit, desperate to hear her moan. “Take your dress off.”
