He loved that Imogen didn’t protest or demur or act like she didn’t want it just as much as he did. She just turned her knees out and dug her nails into his shoulders and waited for him to fill her.

Which he did.

They groaned in mutual pleasure. Ty paused for a split second, to torture himself, then he stroked in and out of her, hard, fast, pounding at her, in her. He felt out of control, desperate, consumed by the need to take her, to make her scream his name in the woods.

Their rhythm was so furious that Imogen’s sounds of pleasure were short, quiet little pants, punctuated by the occasional breakthrough full-on moan when she caught enough breath. It was beautiful against the silence of the trees.

Until they heard a rustling and snapping.

“What was that?” Imogen asked, her eyes flying open. “Oh, my God, is that a bear?”

Shit. Shit. And shit. Ty pulled out of Imogen, zipping her pants up quickly and stepping back away from her. “Worse. It’s people coming down the trail.” Ty tucked his erection in his jeans and winced. “Damn, that sucks.”

“People? People are coming?”

“Yes.” He could hear their voices now. Ty reached out and yanked her off the tree trunk, where she’d looked frozen midfuck, and gave her a quick kiss. “Time to move along, babe.”

Imogen checked her zipper and gave a nervous laugh. “Well, that’s embarrassing. And really disappointing.”

“Tell me about it.” Ty slung his pack over his back and tried not to think about the unsatisfied ache down south. Walking gingerly, he looked around. They were missing something, but between the sex and the sudden stop presatisfaction, his brain was blank.

Wiping her lips, she craned to see down the trail. “Oh, geez, here they come. Where’s the cooler?”

“The cooler. Right.” That was what they were forgetting. Ty had dropped it on the edge of the trail, just before he had marched Imogen up against the tree trunk.

Imogen bent over to pick it up and her backpack slipped over her shoulder, sending her stumbling forward.

“You okay, babe?” He started toward her, but she giggled.

She righted herself and turned around, smiling. “I can’t believe we almost got busted.”

Ty grinned back. “Almost is the important thing. But they’re here, so mum’s the word.”

A man and a woman in their midthirties came enthusiastically trekking up the trail, which reassured Ty that at least if they had gotten busted, it wasn’t by a pack of Boy Scouts or anything. He would have felt terrible if a kid had seen them doing the deed. Of course, he hadn’t given that possibility much thought before he’d started tearing down Imogen’s pants.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Ty said, nodding politely as he stepped aside to let them pass.

They smiled and greeted him. Then the man did a double take.

Uh-oh. Ty braced himself.

“Say, aren’t you Ty McCordle? The number sixty car?”