I took one last drink from it and screwed the top back on before setting it aside.
She stretched out on her side atop her sleeping bag, propping her head in her hand. “What’s your greatest fear?”
“Failure. I hate being called a fuckup.”
“What’s your proudest accomplishment?”
“So far? Brown Eyed Girl. But I think what we do together will top it.”
“Same.” She smiled. “Okay, last question. You go.”
“What’s your biggest regret?” I asked her quietly.
“I’m not sure I have one, as an adult. I suppose I regret being such a terrible teenager to my parents, but we have a good relationship now. They’ll probably make me pay for it someday by moving in with me and making me take care of them when they’re old and cranky all the time.”
I laughed. “Probably.”
“What about you?” She met my eyes. “What’s your biggest regret?”
Raindrops thrummed steadily on the tent, and thunder continued to roll softly overhead. I inhaled and caught the scent of something she must have put on her skin—it was summery and sweet, and it mingled with the smell of the rain, which I’d always loved. I tucked her hair behind her ear. “Running away from you.”
“Oliver.” She closed her eyes. “Don’t. You said you wouldn’t.”
“I might have lied.”
She sighed. “This is why I can’t trust you.”
“Okay, it wasn’t a lie exactly, but I might have … overestimated my ability to resist you. And I meant what I said.” I brushed a thumb across her cheek. “I was a complete idiot to leave when I did, the way I did. And I’ve always regretted it.”
“I don’t believe you.” Her lower lip trembled.
“Give me another chance, Chloe. I’m not that guy anymore.”
She lifted her chin. “Prove it.”
15
Chloe
NOW
Oliver looked confused. “Huh?”
“Prove it,” I challenged. “Prove to me that you’re not the same guy you were before.”
“How?”
I pushed his hand away. “By keeping your promise not to lay a finger on me.”
“But … can’t we think of another way?” He looked longingly at my bare legs.
“Nope.” To reinforce my stance, I opened up my sleeping bag and got in it. “If you mean what you say, and you really do want another chance with me, you’ll have no problem keeping your hands to yourself on your side of the tent. If you just want to get laid tonight and you’re looking for an uncomplicated vagina, you’ll have to seek it elsewhere.”
“Because your vagina is complicated?”
I raised my chin. “It’s very complicated.”
“Fine.” Sighing heavily, he reached over and turned down the light, removed his T-shirt, then flopped onto his back, hands behind his head. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” I turned onto my side, facing away from him, trying to hide a smile in the hoodie I was using as a pillow. I was positive he would be crawling over to me within minutes, proving me right.
Then, and only then, would I give in.
So I stayed awake and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
The thunder moved on, the rain eased to a drizzle, the crickets chirped louder … but Oliver stayed on his side of the tent.
Damn you, Oliver. I know you want me.
I sighed loudly, just to remind him I was there and let him know I wasn’t asleep.
Nothing.
After another minute, I rolled onto my back and took my legs out of my sleeping bag.
Nothing.
I rolled onto my side, facing him, and peeked. He was in the exact same position he’d been in before. Eyes closed. His bare chest was visible, and it made my pelvic muscles contract.
I sighed again. Even louder.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked, not moving a muscle. He had such a great profile.
“I guess not.”
“How come? Too dark?”
“No.”
“Too hot?”
“No.”
“Too cold?”
“No.”
“Then what is it? There must be something keeping you awake.”
Out of patience, I sat up. “I changed my mind.”
“Oh? About what?”
“About tonight.” I leaned toward him and whispered coyly, “You can lay a finger on me.”
“Nah, I better not.” He still hadn’t even opened his eyes.
Indignant, I straightened up. “What? Why not?”
“Because you were right. If I’m really going to prove myself and earn your trust, I need to keep my promises.”
I sat there open-mouthed, trying to decide if I was impressed or offended.
“Plus, I’m sort of scared of your complicated vagina,” he went on, a smile creeping onto his face. “I’ve never seen one of those before. I might not know what to do with it.”
“Forget it,” I snapped, flopping onto my side, facing away from him again. “Goodnight.”
It wasn’t even three seconds later that I felt his body pressing up behind mine and his hand sliding up my thigh. “I’m only fucking with you,” he whispered, his lips against my ear. “I know exactly what to do with it.”
“Get off me,” I told him. “I don’t want to play your little cat and mouse games.”
“Come on, you love the games. You started this one.”
“All you do is aggravate me.”
“I know,” he said, slipping his hand between my legs. “And right now I want to aggravate you so hard.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“Liar.” His fingers had edged past my underwear and easily slid inside me.
The hard length of his erection pressed at my tailbone, and I arched back against him. He buried his face in my neck, kissing my throat as his fingers worked magic between my legs. “I wish I didn’t want you this way,” I whispered. “You’re nothing but trouble.”
“You love trouble,” he reminded me.
I rolled onto my back and slid a hand inside his shorts, sheathing his hot, hard cock with my fist. “Fuck you.”
In an instant his mouth was on mine as he thrust through my fingers and I moved my hips against his hand. We were greedy and impatient, as if we wanted to make up for lost time. Barely breaking the kiss, we yanked at shorts and underwear and tugged off shirts, our skin growing sweaty, our breathing labored. In no time at all, he was poised above me, my legs wrapped around him.
“Is it okay?” he asked, teasing me with the tip of his cock.
“It’s okay,” I panted, my body unwilling to wait for my mind to stop and think this through.
Then he was easing inside, and I didn’t care about anything but how good it felt to have Oliver moving over me, filling me up, rocking into my body harder and deeper every time. I raked my nails down his back and grabbed his ass, pulling him tighter against me. I moaned and sighed and cursed, hating myself for wanting him so badly, for letting him do this to me again, for knowing exactly how to make me come.
But I loved him for it too—loved the way he liked it a little rough, loved it when he got to his knees and yanked my hips onto his thighs, loved it when he rubbed his thumb over my clit while he drove his cock into me again and again and again. He groaned and growled and swore through clenched teeth. He told me he was going to come, and at the last second, he grabbed me beneath the arms and pulled me onto his lap, bringing me with him over the edge as I rode out the orgasm on his thick, throbbing cock.