“You boys taking notes?” I ask them.
“Next time someone should be with you though,” Akara adds. “That could’ve been five on one.”
I could’ve taken all five of them.
“Take that note down, Farrow,” Donnelly pipes in.
I roll my eyes and then watch those five bastards strut down the hill to the lake. I wish I could’ve just kicked them out of the camp. The publicity nightmare of sending someone home would destroy the purpose of the charity event.
So they have to stay.
37
MAXIMOFF HALE
Farrowunlocks our tent after the bonfire gathering ends. No moon out tonight, day two. I point a flashlight at the entrance and watch the way his fingers fiddle with the key and padlock. And the zipper.
Try having your bodyguard a few feet from you all day and seeing him inhis element: intimidating the hell out of assholes, medically savvy, badass and smart as fuck. Now trynotpicturing his cock a million times.
Yeah, that’s hard. Pun intended.
Now trynotbeing able to touch him. To flashfuck meeyes. To clutch the back of his neck and plunge my tongue against his tongue.
I could growl I’m so pent-up.I want him.
All day I’ve wanted him, and I haven’t been able to embrace him.
I’m not about to jump him like he’s my sex toy. He may be exhausted. So as we both crawl into the tent, I try to hang onto other things.
Like how this is the last night of the Camp-Away, and there’s been no broken bones. Not too many tears—most of them werehappy. And no Charlie. It’s been pretty damn good, even with the first day ant-allergy attack.
As far asdangergoes, it’s been safer than I think the entire security team predicted. After breakfast tomorrow, everyone will start packing up, last goodbyes exchanged, and we’ll all go home.
I stretch my legs out on my orange sleeping bag, and Farrow padlocks the tent from theinside.As much as I love camping, I’m not a fan of these extra precautions. I’m so used to feeling freer in the wilderness. With this many people around and their cellphone cameras—it’s practically the antithesis of why I camp.
I peel my shirt off my head. The December chill nipping my bare skin. Farrow edges back beside me, eyeing me from his peripheral while he slowly removes his earpiece and twists the cord around his radio. He places his holstered gun beneath his camping pillow.
I shut off the flashlights. No more shadows dancing along the tent.
And we’re isolated from camp-goers—private but notthatprivate. More security is outside. “You know,” I whisper, “I’ve never fucked in a tent.”
We haven’t done anything yet because of my allergic reaction. My blood pressure has been out of whack, but I’m fine now.
His brows rise, and he pulls his black V-neck over his head. “Couldn’t convince someone to have a one-night stand in a tent?”
“No.” My eyes graze the inked dagger on his abs, just barely visible in the darkness. “I just didn’t like the idea of only a thin sheet of canvas separating me from my bodyguard while I was fucking.” Usually there’s at least awall.
“Understandable.” Farrow watches me as I watch his fingers. He unbuttons his pants, unzips, and he kicks them off. His heady gaze sweeps me in a slow-burning once-over. And his tight blackboxer-briefs suction to his muscles, ass, and his long, thick erection.
Christ.
Blood pumps harder, everywhere. Until I’m one thundering pulse.
I grab his shoulder, and he already rolls on top of me. Legs interlacing, our mouth crushing together, I clench his hair between starved fingers.
He wrestles with my pants, yanking them off my waist, down my muscular legs. Off me completely.
Yes, fuck yes.
