“Beau—” I begin.
“Is the thought of it really so awful for you?” he asks, voice low and demanding. His eyes flick up and there’s a fire lit behind them, the gentleness gone. “Would it be so hard for you to give yourself to me?”
My breath catches when I realize his face is only inches from mine. I want to look away, but his gaze won’t release me.
“I— I just . . . it’s not that simp . . . ” Heat floods my cheeks. “I’ve never . . . ”
A different look crosses his face then; a calculating light enters his woodland eyes.
I shiver. “Beau—”
His hand slides from my shoulder up my neck and into my bound hair. The pressure yanks my head back, and before I can react, his mouth covers mine.
I freeze, then soften against him. Hot. His lips are scorching as they caress mine, and my breath hitches. My lips part on the sound, and he slides his tongue into my mouth, slick heat stroking mine. He tastes amazing—light and tangy and delicious—and his plundering kiss demands a response. Tentatively, I stroke my tongue back against him, and he groans against my mouth.
The steely strength of his arm locks around my waist, and he pulls me onto his lap. I can’t protest, don’t want to, can’t string together a thought complete enough to know where I’d begin if I did. I’m needy, out of control. He’s hot and hard between my thighs.
My blouse lifts with his grip, tangling precariously under my breasts as he grinds me against him, a parody of the close grip we shared earlier. I shift over his hardness, shuddering in shock at the feel of him pressing against my core. There’s almost nothing between us, just a few shifts of fabric and we’d be— Liquid heat floods me. I cling to his hard shoulders as the pressure on my hair makes my back arch. I press my chest against him, my hips down over him, shivering at the friction as he rubs his tongue across mine. His teeth catch my lower lip, and I gasp, arching more completely against him.
I burn. Ache. I have to do something to ease this terrible, incredible tension inside me. Mindless, I shift again so I can rub against him, panting against his punishing mouth.
“Fucking hell. Cool it, idiot. I’m not watching you fuck her on the bank.”
The snapped words don’t completely register; my fingers dig into his shoulders. He’s so much bigger than me. How can his lips be so soft and so hard at the same time?
Thoughts that aren’t really full thoughts swim blurrily in my head. Our mouths part for just a moment, and I run my tongue across his lower lip with a whimper.
“Beau!” the voice barks.
“Fuck,” Beau swears, breaking the kiss. His hand eases from my hair in a soothing stroke down my back.
My breath comes in hitching pants. My head is spinning. It takes so much effort to lift my heavy lids. Absently, I push my glasses back up. Sweet sunshine, what on earth just happened?
I want to squeeze my legs closed against the throbbing, wet ache between them, but it only serves to push my core against him again.
Beau’s gaze crashes against mine, dangerous desire turning them a darker shade of emerald, drowning out the golden flecks.
I stare back at him in shock, too stunned to blush, part of me wondering whether it would be impolite to tear open his pants and beg him to finish what he just started. I’ve never felt like this my entire life, and it frightens me as much as it thrills me.
He rests his forehead against mine as we both try to catch air.
“Come with me, darlin’。 You don’t belong out here,” he murmurs, voice deep and cajoling. His grip around my waist hasn’t eased and he deliberately strokes himself up against my center, making me shudder. “You can leave any time. What would it hurt to try, hmm?”
“Beau.” The stern voice is warning this time.
I try to regain control of my thoughts. I’ve always been so good at thinking. How did he short-circuit my brain with his tongue?
“But it’s . . . it’s not just you.”
It’s too much. Isn’t it? How could I possibly do this with all of them? I’m no virgin, I’ve had sex before, but this kind of chemistry doesn’t just happen. Sex usually just sucks.
Beau presses his lips to my forehead. “What would it hurt to try?” he repeats against my skin.
I’m trembling. What would it be like to be with a man like Beau? Can I really walk away without finding out?
That thought makes up my mind.
As my stomach dips in nervousness, I nod.
A slow smile creeps across his face, and he drops a light kiss on my nose. “You won’t regret it, darlin’。” Pulling us both up, he calls to the other two, “She’s coming.”
“I knew it!” Lucky grins, a godless glint in his eyes. “Eden could never resist temptation.”
Beau snorts at Lucky. “That’s Eve, idiot. Didn’t your mama ever send you to Sunday school?”
He helps me up and leads me over to the others.
“My mama had an upside-down cross hanging in her studio. Does that count?” Lucky waves off Beau’s rolled eyes. “Fine, I guess we’re going to plunder her secret gard—”
Beau smacks him lightly on the back of the head, and Lucky snickers. Then, eyeing Dom, he takes a cautious step behind Beau.
Dom’s expression is a thundercloud, dark and ready to spit lightning.
“I hope you know what you’re in for.” He stalks toward the south. “If she can’t keep up, she gets left behind.”
Beau ignores him and holds out his arm, his smile full of promises. I take it hesitantly. My head spins, and I can still feel the impression of his lips against me like a brand.
What on earth did I just agree to?
Chapter 5
Eden
SURVIVAL TIP #2
Don’t wait for the next bad thing to happen.
Move on before it does.
A fter traveling for several hard hours at a grueling pace, I’m worried. At this rate, I will need to be left behind. Darkness has bled through the forest, turning everything to cool shadows. Lucky hasn’t stopped whistling, and the lighthearted sound is beginning to grate.
I’m running on empty. Even the prospect of a bed isn’t enough to keep my shaking legs moving anymore. Or maybe they’re still shaking because of that kiss. I haven’t been able to look at Beau since we left the clearing. I’ve never behaved like that in my life. No kiss has ever made me feel like that. No, forget a kiss, full-blown sex has never made me feel like that.
It has to be my exhaustion. At breaking point, some people get furious, some cry—and I apparently become wildly aroused.
It definitely makes sense. It’s science. Added to the fact that I haven’t so much as spoken to another person for four years, and it’s no wonder I reacted that way.
My legs wobble, and I pause, resting against a tree. I need to stop, just for a moment. My eyelids droop.
“Ohhh, no you don’t.”
The whistling stops. Relieved, I drag my eyes back open.
Laughing baby blues meet mine. “You’re not getting away from us that easily. Come on, it’s really not much farther. Barely an hour.”
My shoulders slump. “I truly don’t think we have the same understanding of ‘not much farther,’ Lucky.”