"Don't care." I suck hard enough to leave a mark, and her nails dig into my scalp. "Let them look."
She tugs my hair, forcing me to meet her eyes. They're dark with want, pupils blown wide. "There's an inn. About a mile back. I saw it."
My brain short-circuits. “An inn?”
Her fingers trace down my chest, and even through my shirt, her touch burns. “Unless you want to get arrested for public indecency.” She teases, but beneath it runs a tremor of desperation. “Because if you keep touching me like that, I'm not going to be responsible for what I do to you.”
I pull back enough to see her properly. Her lips are swollen, her cheeks flushed, her breathing ragged. She's never looked more beautiful.
"Are you sure?" I have to ask, even though it might kill me if she says no. “Because once I have you again, Ivy, I won't want to let you go.”
"I'm sure." She pulls me back down, kissing me hard and fast. "I've never been more sure of anything. Take me to the inn, Thorne."
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Thorne
The ride back to the small town are the longest miles of my life.
Every second of it, she's pressed against me, arms tight around my waist, hands sliding under my T-shirt. I slow to take the turn into the inn's long driveway, gravel crunching under the tires. Then we’re moving fast.
I park. Ivy jumps off the back, pulling off her helmet. I do the same. Neither of us speaks. What is there to say? Words wouldjust get in the way of what we both need. Right now, our bodies are doing all the talking that matters.
The place is small and elegant, tucked into the trees like a secret. Weathered stone foundation, timber beams, ivy climbing the walls. I take her hand and we rush toward it.
Inside, the elderly clerk smiles. "Welcome! Do you have a reservation?"
"No," I say. "What do you have available?"
“Hmm. The inn is booked, but I may have…” She taps at her computer. “Yes, we have one glamping tent available for tonight. King bed, full bath, climate controlled—”
“We'll take it," I pull out my black Amex.
Five minutes later, we're making our way down a stone path through the trees, a key card in my pocket. Halfway to our destination, I twist to face her and wrap my free arm around her, pulling her against me. My lips crash against hers, and she kisses me with the same desperation.
“Thorne, if you don't get me inside that tent right now—”
Hand in hand, we damn near run down the path. The tent comes into view. It’s sleek and modern with clear panels on the front, facing the forest, and on the roof. But right about now, I’d be happy with a ratty, old two-person tent as long as Ivy and I fit in it. I slip the key into the lock, turn it, and step inside.
There’s a king bed in the center of the room. Behind it is another door that I assume leads to a bathroom. Late afternoon light streams in golden and warm, but the heat is blocked out by the massive trees on all sides.
Ivy steps in behind me. I set my helmet on the floor. Take Ivy’s and do the same. Then her mouth is back like she’s starving for this, for me. It’s like we've been holding our breath for six weeks and can finally breathe again. My hands are in her hair, on her waist, pulling her against me like I can absorb her into my skin.
"Thorne," she gasps against my lips, her fingers working at the zipper of my riding jacket. "I need you.”
I’m pulling at her jacket too, our hands tangling, getting in each other's way. “I know, baby. I know.”
Her jacket hits the floor. Mine follows. She's tugging at my shirt. I help her, yanking it over my head while her fingers move to my belt. There's an urgency in me that goes deeper than lust. I have to touch her to prove this is real, that we're really here, together.
I pull her shirt off. Black lace bra. My focus narrows to one thing: getting my hands on her bare skin. I slide my palms up her ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts, and she makes this sound—half moan, half sigh—that goes straight to my dick.
"I've missed touching you.” I kiss down her neck. "Missed the sounds you make."
"Then don't stop." Her fingers trace down my chest, nails scraping lightly. "Don't ever stop."
I reach behind her, unhook her bra, and drag it down her soft skin, kissing her shoulder. Her breasts are full and soft. Leaning down, I take one nipple into my mouth. She arches into me, fingers digging into my shoulders. Touching her is as necessary as breathing.
"Your jeans," she breathes. "Off. Now."
