Page 83 of In Your Wake

“Good point.”

I’m finally close enough to smell him, the subtle hint of leather and bourbon, the beer on his breath.

“Seriously, go back to the tent,” he says more forcefully.

“Why did you leave?”

“I had to piss.”

“And…?”

“Whatever we were about to do is stupid. You and me, we’ve got too much baggage.”

“But we’re trying to get past that, aren’t we?”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“We’re trying. It’s not going to happen overnight.” Steam rises from his shoulders and I reach out, slipping my fingers over the toned curve of them. I slide my hands down to grip his biceps and he tenses, while I release a low, satisfied moan that vibrates in my throat. I was right—the strength in his arms could crush me, and I’m taken aback by how much I want to be crushed.

I hear him swallow. “Go back to bed,” he says, this time weakly.

“Do you ever wonder about that night? If we’d…”

“Gone for it?”

I nod, silently.

“More than I should,” he answers.

I hear the faint tremor in his voice. The thought that he’s nervous sends a thrill through my body.

“Same,” I say. I move my hand to his chest, above his heart. “You’re nice and warm.”

He chuckles. “That’s me. Always burning up.”

I shut my eyes, focusing on his heart hammering beneath my touch.

“This is a bad idea,” he warns.

I accept what’s about to happen and I am so here for it. I shrug, opening my eyes, meeting his steely gaze. “It is, but remember what you said about two people fucking because they want to? Because they can’t resist each other?”

“Max,” he says, the sound of my name a dark rumble.

I skim my hand down his chest, over the toned, well-defined grooves of his stomach, then run a finger parallel to his waistband, smiling when his flesh lifts with goosebumps beneath my touch. I hear his sharp intake of breath as he snakes one of his arms around my waist, his large hand splaying against my lower back. Even without speaking, I can hear the things he wants to say, but that are silenced by his hesitations.

Swiftly, he pulls me into him, surprising me, then grips my hair, tugging my head back, and our lips collide. Our tongues meet as his free hand grips my thigh, hoisting me up in one brisk move. I circle his waist with my legs, and he spins us around, pinning me against the tree. The rough bark digs through my shirt into my back, but I’m too exhilarated and aroused to care.

Well, that’s not exactly true. I’m aware of what’s happening, but I’m not bothered that it might be wrong, or fucked up, or stupid and completely insane. If anything, that makes me want this so much more. I’m drowning in the need to have him rip my layers off, to shred my clothes to pieces. This deep desire swallows my inhibitions whole.

I’m held up by Mitch’s body wedged between my thighs. His hands roam free. He pinches my chin and draws back to stare at me. Strange emotions emanate from his dark eyes, but they’re engulfed by heat—wild, unencumbered fire.

Without dropping his gaze, he dives a hand down, pulling my shirt free from my shorts, then slips it underneath, palming my breast, his thumb grazing over my peaked nipple. Gentle at first, his touch is cautious, as if he expects me to stop him, but I moan and grin instead.

Taking possession of my body, his touch becomes harder, rougher. He drops his eyes to my lips, bringing his mouth back to mine. We may have known each other for years, but now it’s as if we’re strangers, coming together in one scintillating, somewhat forbidden kiss.

And I’ve ached for this kiss for far too long.

Mitch is the yin to my yang. The dawn to my dusk. He was my best friend, and now that he’s back in my life, I see why I’ve been fighting him so hard. I’m terrified, deeply mortified to have to lose him all over again.