Page 56

With all my abdominal strength, I forcefully thrust the spear down with both hands. It nips the fish I was aiming for, injuring it.

“Grab it! Grab the fish, London,” he says excitedly.

Driven by adrenaline and hunger, I jump into the cool waters and grab the slimy fish, next to the spear now floating in the water. It’s a big one, about ten pounds. I carry it as it flops for a moment, before it’s dead and limp in my arms, and I carefully move toward the shore. Maison is already behind me when I toss it onto the slippery rocks. Its big eyeballs stare right at me while I wash my hands and turn to face him, driven by a different primal need now.

That was the most exhilarating thing I’ve done since I’ve been here, and it was because he taught me how to do it. I don’t let him react or stop me; I lift onto my toes and press my lips on his neck, enjoying his soft stubble, before sliding my tongue into his mouth.

He responds the way he usually does, nibbling and playing with me, sliding his hands to my lower back. I deepen my kiss, and he meets my passion with equal vigor.

“Lift me up,” I demand and jump up a few feet, hoping he catches me. Which he does with no problem and grips the fleshy part of my ass with his firm hands. I press myself into him, wrapping my legs around him. I nibble and bite at his neck and ear, and he tickles my bare legs. I love how small he makes me feel wrapped inside him. “Take me to that rock over there.” He enjoys playing our little game where I give him permission bit by bit, till he gets the entirety of me.

I run my fingers through his hair, and he carries me over to my flat rock on the edge of the shore. I keep my lips on his neck, moving them back to his mouth, and he presses me down to the cold ground. The uneven rock beneath me scratches into my back, but I don’t care.

I want him inside me, right now.

I moan as I run my hands up his gray sweatshirt, tickling his hard abs, while teasing the string of his sweatpants, ready to pull them down. “Touch me everywhere.” I tease his neck with my tongue. “I want your hands all over me.”

He slides his fingers up my shirt. “Like this?” he whispers as he glides his fingers over my breasts and teases them. My whole body pulses as I lift my shirt and throw it onto the ground beside me, exposing my entire chest to him, my legs sprawled out with him in between them.

“Yeah, like that,” I breathe out as his soft fingers tingle every bit he contacts.

He pulls away and my eyes meet his. His pupils flare and he grabs my fingers and pulls them down with his, right along my belly and down between my legs.

“I want you to touch yourself,” he says as his hands circle the apex of my thigh. “I want to watch you.”

I take in his messy, sexy dark hair, cherry lips, and the bit of facial hair he has growing. I breathe deeply, feeling my slickness between my legs and absorb his heady scent. My jean shorts are irritating, rubbing up against my clit, so I undo my top button and slide them down while arching my back as he continues caressing me. As I stroke myself, his thumb finds its way inside me as our fingers intertwine. I close my eyes and bask in the feeling of his hands, the refreshing Alaskan air, and the tranquility of the natural surroundings.

My lips crave his so I lean up and kiss him, then catch my breath as my orgasm builds and I wrap my hands around his neck so I can feel every hard line of him. “Fuck,” I moan as I continue rubbing, knowing he’s watching and likes it. I move my other hand to my breasts and tease my nipples, wishing he would touch them instead.

His fingers still rest on my hipbone, so I pull them inside me and nudge him on top of me. I wrap my legs around him and squeeze so he can get them deeper, and I tighten around them, trying to get him as close to me as possible. I let out a soft moan as another wave of pleasure rolls through me, and I push my hips into him.

His face brushes up against mine, his lips tickling my cheek. “You fucking like that,” he says as he pulls his thumb out of me. I feel his wet fingers on my belly. “You want more of that, sweetheart?”

Something’s wrong…

I run my hands up his back and over the muscles of his shoulder and freeze. “Micah. Get off me.”

He lets out a dark laugh as I pull my lips off him. “Your legs are wrapped around me.”

A twist pulls in my stomach as my thighs grip him tight, tense and pulsing. Almost like my body hasn’t caught up to my head. I release the tension between my legs and roll from under him as he steps back and gives me space. He towers over me as I scramble to find my clothes.

“Why did you do that?” I bark at him as I grab my shirt and slip it back on, doing the same with my shorts.

“Do what? You kissed me.”

I shoot him a look. “I only kissed you because you were pretending to be Maison.”

Narrowing his eyes, his mouth twists. “I never once pretended to be Maison. That was all me.”

Liar.

I ball my fists, taken aback by his stark denial. “Yes, you did. You’re even wearing his sweater.”

He scoffs. “If I was acting like Maison, I would have caught that fish for you, and spoon fed it right into your fucking mouth. And as for the sweater, I borrowed it. Is that so wrong?”

I blink and my heart rate spikes. Why is he denying it?

“Why the hell are you here, then?”