When they were done, he cleaned and put away the pots while she fluffed and fluffed…and fluffed their sleeping space. Anything to distract her from the fact that, behind her, she could sense him removing his shirt.
“You okay, Tapley?’
His breath brushed her neck. She jumped, not realizing he’d come that close.
She finally dared a look at him and the sight was even better than the first time. He was an art gallery. Every edge of him had been intricately marked. Not caring to stop herself, she traced her fingers over a tribal tattoo where she could make out a design.
“Maori turtle,” he told her.
“For Curtis?” She traced the animal’s outline. “He was Samoan, right?”
“It’s not too much?” he asked.
“Not at all.” She shook her head. “It’s…you’re…beautiful.”
He tipped her face up and brushed their lips together. Her palm flattened against his chest, paralyzed by the movement of their mouths, the desire that passed between them.
“Take off your shirt,” he requested.
She slipped the tank over her head. The bra underneath was thin, so her nipples poked out like headlights beneath the fabric.
He nodded toward the tent. She climbed inside and he followed, touching kisses to her lower back, the curve of her bottom, the back of her thigh.
Once they were inside, he zipped up the entrance. She lay on her back on top of the sleeping bag while he knelt over her, giving her a clear line of sight to the bulge at the front of his shorts.
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do,” he said, voice husky as he bent and traced her thigh with his tongue. “It might take a few hours…if that’s okay with you.”
Her head fell back. Eyes closed.
“That’s okay?” he asked again.
“Yes.” She barely got the word it. “It’s okay.”
His tongue disappeared from her skin. She waited for his large hands at the edge of her panties, but nothing came. When she opened her eyes, he had her laptop open.
She sat up on her elbows. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve been curious since you brought it up,” he said. “I want to see what you mean by Celie hair, so I downloaded The Color Purple to your laptop.”
Sexual rage filtered through her.
“You want to watch a three-hour movie right now?”
His eyes were innocent. “Yes.”
“Boy, if you don’t…” She launched herself at him and he laughed, catching her while closing the laptop at the same time.
Their lips touched, playful at first, but then deeper, hungry. Larke tightened her grip on him, wanting more. Needing more. She wanted all of him, of this beautiful man with the troubled past and the tattooed body. She wanted his scent, to taste him, to feel his dick inside of her, stretching and unrelenting.
A and A 2 has officially been sent to the publisher.