I stepped over a fallen log and ducked beneath the angled trunk that leaned against a rock overhang, creating what looked like the mouth of a cave. It wasn’t a cave, but it was a hidden pocket carved out by time and gravity and luck.
The waterfall was close enough that the rush of water still filled the air, soft and constant. But the trees muffled everything else, making it feel private.
Inside, the space narrowed. A curved rock wall rose along one side, evergreens crowding in from the other. The fallen trunk sealed off the entrance behind us, leaving only open sky above.
I’d hidden here as a kid. Cried here as a teen. But I’d never brought anyone with me. Especially not for this.
Eric squeezed in behind me, shoulders nearly brushing the rock, and the space shrank instantly. Or maybe it just felt that way because he took up so much of it.
“Is this your secret clubhouse?”
“Why?” I turned slowly, forcing myself not to react to how all-encompassing his presence was. “Do you want to join my club?”
“Hell yes, beautiful. That’s an offer no sane man would refuse. What’s the admission price?”
My pulse raced. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve got, and I’ll let you know if it’s enough.”
I slid two fingers into the waistband of his jeans and dragged him closer, popping the button with my thumb. Forget the teasing preamble. I wanted him to know exactly what I was doing.
I’d never been shy about sex. But with Eric, it felt different. I felt bolder somehow, like he’d knocked down some invisible wall and stepped back to see what I’d do with the space.
And what I wanted was to take the lead.
Power hummed low in my veins as I eased his zipper down, watching his face.
God, that look. A little dark, a lot devious, and, best of all, patient.
Until he brought his hand down hard on my ass. Not a slap exactly, but a claim.
He slid his other hand into my hair, fisting it at the base of my skull. Every little tug sent a riot of sensation rippling through me, skittering down my spine and making my nipples pebble.
He wouldn’t hurt me. Not unless I asked him to. That conviction steadied the rush, giving me something I could lean into instead of fear.
And it gave me the nerve to keep going, to act like I was setting the pace, even though we both knew damn well he was the one in charge.
I tugged at his jeans, my gaze dropping to the band of his boxers, pulse thudding, body coiling tight.
“Jamie.” His voice rumbled against my ear. “Give me your mouth.”
Heat pulsed between my thighs, and I almost sank to my knees. But he was guiding my head up, not down.
I lifted my face and lunged for him.
He caught my mouth in a quick, deliberate kiss, then pulled back to drag his tongue over my bottom lip. When he slid back in, he deepened the kiss with lazy control, taking his time like he had nowhere else to be.
If he thought he could undo me with slow burning desire…he was absolutely right.
My fingers skimmed down his stomach, nails grazing lightly over the hard plane of muscle. His abs flexed under my touch, a subtle reaction I felt more than saw.
But his mouth…
Dear God, his mouth.
It was overwhelming and addictive. Every slow sweep of his tongue, every measured pull of his hand in my hair, kept me right where he wanted me.
Casually, like I wasn’t trembling inside, I curved my hand over the elastic of his boxers and worked them down inch by inch, my fingers brushing over his cock as I exposed him.
One second his mouth was on mine. The next, he was breaking away with a growl and grabbing my wrists.
