“I could have—”
“As if I was going to drag you to your first camping trip in the Wilds without a sleeping bag.”
“Well, I definitely can’t sleep over there knowing you’re going to be shivering in here.”
“It’s not that cold. Are you sure that’s why you don’t want to sleep in your tent?”
“What other reason would there be?”
“I don’t know,” he said mischievously. “Maybe you’re a little…scared?”
Maggie crossed her arms. “Well, if I was scared, it turns outyou sleep like the dead. So even if I stay in this tent, I’ll have to save your ass just like I did earlier today.”
“Mmm,” Arthur hummed in response as Maggie unzipped the sleeping bag until it was spread out like a comforter. She shifted until she was as far away from Arthur’s tall body as she could be and still be covered by the sleeping bag. “Is this a good idea?” Arthur asked, concern on his face.
“Are you afraid I snore?”
He barked a laugh. “I know you snore, Maggie. Remember?”
Maybe he was right. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. She looked at him, less than a foot separating them. Maggie wondered what would happen if she closed the distance between them now so she could feel his lips against hers. Just one more time, that’s all she wanted. One more kiss. One more kiss was safe. It wouldn’t be the same as dating Evan. It would just be a kiss.
“Just stay on your half of the tent,” she said, curling up on her side. Arthur scooted over a little bit so there was even more room between them. That was supposed to be what Maggie wanted, a safe distance between their bodies, but it felt like a gulf.
“Good night, Maggie,” he whispered.
—
Maggie thought shewould toss and turn, but apparently there was something so comforting about Arthur’s presence beside her that she passed out within seconds. It didn’t matter that there wasn’t much between her ass and the hard ground, or that there was still nothing between her and the Wilds other than the nylon of the tent and their warding runes. When her eyesfluttered open again, it was still dark outside, but hours later, based on the ache in her back.
It took her a moment to come back to the world of the living, but when she did, she realized first that whatever space had been between her and Arthur had vanished. She was no longer curled against the edge of the tent but had rolled toward him. He had done the same, meeting her somewhere in the middle and curving his body around hers. His arm was draped over her waist, his palm pressed against the skin of her soft stomach where her crop top had ridden up, and his fingers just below her breasts, not quite grazing their swell. She held her breath, but Arthur continued to breathe deeply, light flutters of snores proving that he was fast asleep.
Maggie froze.Oh no, oh no.She meant to extricate herself from his cuddle, to roll back over to her side of the tent and pretend this never happened, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. The press of him against her, the drape of his arm, and only centimeters between his fingers and the delicate skin beneath her breast. He was almost where she wanted—needed—him to touch her. But she couldn’t be this close to him, not without telling him that she knew, that she had known for days. And what if he was furious she’d kept that secret? What if he wasn’t? What if he wanted more and she couldn’t give it?
As her mind raced, she didn’t notice that Arthur’s rhythmic breathing had stopped, that his grip on her had tightened, ever so slightly. “Maggie,” came his voice in her ear, and she remembered the whisper of it in the same spot on Beltane. She closed her eyes, nearly panting with want. With need.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and began to lift his arm.
She reached up and grabbed it with her hand, pressing it back to her stomach. “No. Please stay.”
She didn’t need to repeat herself. He leaned into her, moving his body against hers until she arched her back into him, her ass pressed against his groin so she could feel that he wanted her, too. All the desire she had tried so hard to ignore for weeks became insistent when she felt the hard length of his erection. She whimpered. “Maggie,” he said again, needy. Pleading.
“I need…”
“Not yet,” he said. “I have to ask you something.”
“I—”
“Were you at Brig Beach on Beltane?” he asked, the words spilling out of him and against her neck like fire, the trace of the small circle of his finger beneath her breast, but not on it, not where she needed it. She nodded against him, and he kept talking, the circles his fingers made getting wider. “I think…I think we…” He struggled to find the words as she leaned against him, her head resting back on his shoulder.
He remembered. Whatever leash she’d kept on her want was gone as she gasped, “Yes.” She writhed against him. He knew, he knew, and he still wanted her as much as she wanted him. Her desire drowned out her fear. “I know. I’ve known.”
There was a sharp intake of breath, but she couldn’t see his face. Did his familiar scowl return? Had he narrowed his eyes? Drawn in his eyebrows together? She needed to see his face to know what he was thinking, and she made a move to change her position, but Arthur tightened his grip around her, moving his hips and pressing his hard cock into her ass. She bit her lip to keep from moaning.
“Then why are we still talking?” he growled, and she gasped as his lips found her ear, sucking it into his mouth, his tongue flicking the lobe as his hand—finally, gods, finally—found her nipple beneath the fabric of her shirt. He squeezed it between his fingers, bringing it to a sharp point that had her hips twisting. He moaned into her ear, and Maggie’s pleasure jolted at his need for her.
She turned in his arms and saw his expression for just a moment before they crashed together, filled with lust and something like wonder. And when they finally kissed, finally answered that burning desire they had been dancing around for weeks, Maggie knew she should be scared of the way the press of his lips against hers felt like coming home. His tongue darted against her lips, and she opened for him, tasting mint and earthy red wine. She moaned against the way he moved in her mouth, imagining that tongue elsewhere on her body, against her nipples, inside her.
She couldn’t stop touching him. She twisted her fingers through his hair as they kissed, pulling him closer as he cradled her against him, sliding his knee between her legs and pressing his thigh against her. She thought she might come undone just from the pressure of him there. His hands were sliding down her back until they cupped her ass, squeezing as his tongue continued to explore her mouth.
