Inked: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World), стр. 36
“Do you want to eat inside or out?”
I glance over my shoulder at the stunning old-fashioned fittings, but as tempting as they are, I want to watch the sun make its final descent for the day.
“Outside. Definitely outside.”
“Come on then.”
He hops out of the camper before coming around for me, but my feet are already heading for the sand below.
His need to help must get the better of him, because he steps forward and wraps his arm around my waist. Our chests crash together, his hard lines against my soft curves, and I just about manage to swallow the groan of pleasure that threatens to rumble up my throat at his contact.
Slowly, he lowers me until my feet hit the ground.
“I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” he whispers, his deep voice hitting right between my legs.
“Oh, and here I was, thinking you’d forgotten.”
“Never. You’re all I’ve been able to think about.” To make his point, he presses his already hard length against me.
“Oh,” falls from my lips, but it’s no more than a breathy whisper.
“Every time I look at my tat chair, I see you laid out on it in your underwear. I’m pretty sure the guys I’ve seen this week all think I’m gay.”
I can’t help but bark out a laugh. “Whatever turns you on, Brit boy.”
His hand slips around the back of my neck as he drops his head slightly. Desire pulls at my lower stomach, and I lick my lips in preparation for what I hope is going to come.
“You, Vixen. Only you.” His lips brush mine, but he doesn’t give me what I need.
When I give in to temptation and move toward him, he pulls back, a wicked smile playing on his lips.
“We should eat.”
He takes a huge step away as I fall back against the seat, trying to catch my breath, and drag my head from the clouds.
I stand, feeling a little lost as he grabs a few things from the back of the camper and places them down on the sand.
“Help me with this,” he says, holding a blanket out toward me.
I take hold of it, and together we shake it out and set up our picnic. He places a wicker basket in the center before throwing a couple of cushions down and re-emerging from the camper with a chilled bottle of wine.
He passes it over and the label makes my heart race. I feel ridiculous that the sight of a bottle of wine can affect me, but I can’t help it.
“D-do you have anything else to drink?” I ask, wishing I could just suck it up and enjoy it.
“Oh shit, I’m so sorry. I forgot you don’t drink it.”
“I-It’s not that. It just reminds me of my parents.” My cheeks flush, feeling ridiculous.
“Oh… um…” He jumps back into the camper and pulls out a bottle of soda.
“Perfect. Thank you.”
“I should have brought rum.”
“It’s okay. You’ve done enough.”
“I borrowed my aunt and uncle’s camper and made a picnic, it’s not exactly the date of the century.”
Once he’s settled beside me, I reach over and place my hand over his.
“It’s perfect.”
“Really?” He glances over at me, and I love the little bit of vulnerability in his eyes.
“Really.”
We fall silent for a few seconds as a young family walks across the beach. We’re not close enough to hear what they’re saying, but I can’t help smiling as I watch their toddler attempt to chase their dog.
Corey sighs, dragging my attention back to him. “Hungry?” he asks before I get to ask if he’s okay.
“Starved.”
He opens the basket and reveals the contents. Bread from a deli, cheese, meats, olives. It’s almost a replica from our midnight snack at the hotel, and my cheeks heat as I remember eating some of that from his body.
Jesus, I was such a hussy that night.
Noticing my flushed state, he lifts the hem of his shirt, cheekiness twinkling in his blue eyes. “Want a repeat?”
“A plate will be fine, thank you.” I lean forward to take one of the plastic ones he brought out and he drops his shirt. It’s a shame, but I’m on my best behavior tonight.
“I’m pretty sure you concluded that anything would taste better if my abs were the plate.”
“I did not say that,” I mutter into the palms of my hands as I try to hide my embarrassment.
“I guess you’ll have to do it again to test it out. Here.” When I part my fingers and look, he’s holding out some bread for me.
“You know, I don’t do what happened on Saturday night.”
“You don’t have sex? I think you’ll find you do. And I can also confirm that you’re really quite good at it.”
“Quite good?” I ask but regret the question the second it passes my lips. “Forget I asked that. And no, I meant I don’t go to hotel rooms with guys I’ve just met.”
“You didn’t just meet me. We’d got to know each other the previous night.”
“You know what I mean. I just needed you to know that it’s not something I make a habit out of. I’m not a…”
“A…?”
“Slut,” I mumble around a bit of my bread.
“Why would you even worry I would think that? If I had any questions about your morals or behavior, do you think I’d be here right now?”
I shrug. He has a point.
“I just needed to get it off my chest.”
His eyes drop to my breasts at my words, his pupils dilating as if he’s remembering what they look like with no clothing covering them.
“I could sure use you getting something else off your chest.” His voice is low, and it causes all kinds of flutters to erupt down below.
“Eat up. If you’re lucky, you might need your stamina later.”
His eyes fly back up to mine, a smirk spreading across his lips. Placing his food onto the picnic blanket, he leans over, resting a palm beside my hip and forcing me to lower my