“Something wrong?” she asked, but she knew the look. Lily was taking in her body, and she liked it. Chase liked her looking too, a pulse jumping low in her belly.

“Not in the slightest,” Lily said, her voice throaty. She took the shirt, still looking at Chase. “Thank you.”

“Sure.”

“Do you do this often?” Lily asked.

“Do what?” Chase held back, cautious with her reply. If Lily only knew all the things she’d been doing since they’d left the lodge—marveling at the softness of Lily’s skin, being mesmerized by the way the moonlight set Lily’s face aglow, wishing she could read Lily’s mind, and wondering if any kind of overture from her would be welcome.

“Come down here at night like this?” Lily said, pushing into her running shoes.

“Ah,” Chase said.

“What did you think I was asking?” Again, no playful note to suggest flirtation. Direct, interested.

“Could have been a couple of things,” Chase said as she pulled on her boots. “To all of which I would’ve answered, no, this is a first.”

“Oh,” Lily said, her voice caressing the word.

Aha. Lily liked that, being the only one, and Chase enjoyed a rush of satisfaction. She’d answered truthfully, but she’d learned something too. Lily was interested.

“I’m not usually at the lodge at night,” Chase said.

“Oh,” Lily said, this time sounding a little disappointed.

Chase chuckled and laced her fingers through Lily’s. Lily didn’t pull away. “And I’ve never walked along here in the moonlight with anyone.”

Lily laughed softly. “Obvious, was I?”

“Anything but. I have a hard time figuring out what you’re thinking.”

“Why try? You could ask.”

“Maybe I’m afraid of being disappointed,” Chase said.

Lily stopped and tugged on Chase’s hand until they faced each other, the lake water lapping against the shore a few feet away, moonlight streaming through the trees, focusing on them like a pale spotlight on nature’s stage. They were almost of a height, but Chase had to look down just a little to find Lily’s eyes. Her hair, shimmering gold by day, was like an afterglow of sunlight at night, delicately pale. The bit of a breeze blew silky strands against her cheek, and Chase caught them with her fingertips and brushed them back along the line of Lily’s jaw. She let her fingertips drift downward to Lily’s throat where a pulse fluttered like bird wings, fragile and swift.

“I’ve never kissed anyone out here either,” Chase said. Her voice was hoarse, the hunger rising swift and hard from deep within her, clamping urgent fingers around her throat.

Lily’s hands came up to her shoulders, and she tilted her head ever so slightly to the side. “Neither have I.”

“Would you like to?” Chase whispered.

“I believe I would.”

As hard as the want beat within her, Chase whispered the kiss against Lily’s mouth, a brush of her lips over Lily’s, a fleeting taste, sweet as honeysuckle. Her breath came hard and fast, and she held herself carefully apart from Lily’s body, even when every instinct bade her to touch. Lily’s hands cupped Chase’s shoulders, fingers digging a little bit into the muscles of her back. Chase’s pulse trip-hammered as if she’d been climbing for hours, the muscles in her arms and legs trembling, breath burning through her chest, sweat streaming into her eyes, exhausted, exhilarated, so very much alive. She shuddered.