"I'm terrible at all of it, though," I said.
"You're new at all of it. That's different."
The heat was everywhere—the air, the ground beneath the sleeping bag, the narrow space between his body and mine. I was looking at him and he was looking back, and the fireflies kept drifting up around us like the woods were putting on a show neither of us had asked for.
My body had been tracking him since the moment he walked into the clearing. The width of his hands when he set up the tent. The way his forearms moved when he strung the bear hang. The low register of his voice when he said my name. Every piece of information filed away somewhere below conscious thought but felt constantly, a low hum beneath my skin that had been building for hours, layered over the heat until I couldn't separate one from the other.
"I've never been with anyone," I said.
The words came out direct and unvarnished, dropped between us like a stone in still water. I hadn't planned to say it. I hadn't planned not to. The dark and the heat and the way he listened like nothing I said could possibly be wrong—it just came out.
He didn't flinch. Didn't look away. His expression didn't change at all except for something behind his eyes that shifted,deepened, like a door opening into a room he'd been waiting to enter.
"Okay," he said.
Not a question. Not a reassurance. Just acknowledgment—the kind that didn't need anything added to it.
The cicadas swelled. The fireflies kept rising. And I sat up beside him on the sleeping bag, heart slamming against my ribs, the summer night pressing in from every direction, knowing that whatever happened next was going to be the truest thing on my list.
4
DUFF
Isat on the edge of her sleeping bag, the night air thick and alive around us, and tried to keep my breathing steady.
Stacia had just laid it all out—twenty-three, never been with anyone, this whole trip a rebellion against a life someone else had drawn up for her. Her voice had gone quiet on that last part, but her eyes didn't waver. She was looking right at me like I was the next item on her list and she'd already decided to check it off.
The fireflies kept drifting between us, lazy gold sparks in the dark. I could smell honeysuckle and warm skin and the faint creek water scent still clinging to both of us.
I didn't say anything clever. I just reached over, slow enough that she could pull away if she wanted, and cupped the side of her face. My thumb brushed her cheekbone. She leaned in.
Our first kiss was careful—soft and a little uncertain on her end. Then her hands moved. She slid one up my chest, the other down my side, bold as hell. I was surprised by how quickly she did it, how sure she seemed. I let her. Hell, I wanted her to. Her fingers traced the waistband of my shorts, and my body answered before my brain caught up.
I groaned against her mouth and deepened the kiss, tasting the faint salt of her sweat. My hands finally moved too. I cupped her breast through the thin tank top—full, soft, the nipple already tight under my palm. I rolled it gently between my fingers until she made a little sound that went straight to my cock. Then I slid my other hand down her stomach, under the waistband of those ridiculous thin shorts. No panties underneath. Just smooth, warm skin and then the slick heat of her.
"Jesus, Stacia," I muttered against her lips.
She was soaked. My fingers parted her folds, gliding over her clit before sliding lower. She was hot, already clenching around the tip of one finger as I tested how ready she was.
She broke the kiss, breathing hard. "I'm on birth control," she whispered. "I've been on it for months. Just…in case."
I nodded, forehead resting against hers. "I'm clean. Got tested two months ago. Haven't been with anyone since."
Her answer was to push me backward onto the sleeping bag. I let her. She swung a leg over and straddled my hips, looking down at me like she'd been waiting years for this moment instead of hours. Then she peeled the tank top off and reached back to unhook her bra. Both went flying somewhere behind her.
Her breasts were perfect—round and heavy, nipples dark and peaked. They bounced as she wiggled out of her shorts, and the sight of her like that, topless under the stars, hit me like a punch. My cock throbbed painfully against my shorts. I wanted to worship every inch of her.
"This is on my list," she said, voice husky. "I'm all in. No regrets. No half-measures."
She straddled me, completely naked. The sight of her bare pussy glistening in the faint starlight made my mouth go dry.
She reached for my shorts, fingers working the button. I caught her wrist.
"Come here," I said, voice rough.
I guided her up my body until her knees were on either side of my head. She hovered there, uncertain for half a second, then lowered herself when I tugged her hips down.
I licked her folds, savoring the taste of her, then circled her clit with the flat of my tongue. She gasped. I slid one finger inside her—snug, so fucking snug—and curled it while I sucked gently on her clit.
