“No?” she asked and tipped her head back against the ground, grinding her hips upward until his hand was forced to move lower. Even through the thin satin of her panties, he could feel how wet she was, how ready. “Darn. I was looking forward to it. I guess you’d better spread my legs and fill me with your mighty oak instead. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

He was in the middle of doing just that when he stopped. “What did you just call it?”

“Your thundering maple,” she replied, her head tipped back in ecstasy as his hand lay heavy against the wet heat of her. “Your turgid member, your one-eyed snake, the purple menace. I need it hard, Harrison, and I need it now.”

“Purple menace?” he echoed.

“Well, I can’t see it from here, obviously, but I’ve pictured it plenty of times. Would you mind if I make a more detailed survey later? I need you.”

He proved powerless against a supplication like that one. “Your wish is my command—as long as you return the favor.”

“Oh? And what do you wish?” The gentle mockery in her tone indicated she had no intention of doing anything she damn well didn’t want to.

“You. Naked. In the sleeping bag. It’s going to be a tight fit to squeeze both of us in there, but I’ve never known a tight fit to be unpleasant where sex is concerned.”

“Oh, you sweet talker, you,” she teased.

Her movements as she removed her clothing were not designed to entice a man. She didn’t coyly expose her skin one inch at a time, and she didn’t shimmy or shake as she pulled her jeans over her hips to showcase the rounded curves of her ass. Her movements were neat and efficient and even more seductive because of it.

All those parts of her that had been brought to his attention over the past few weeks—her naked shoulder and her bared neck, the sweet curve of her back and her strong, capable legs—hit him at once with their perfection. Not because they were perfect, but because she was.

“Don’t gawk,” she chided, but with enough stiffness in her voice that he knew she was feeling shy. “You’re not the only one who feels awkward sometimes.”

“That’s not what you’ll be feeling in a minute,” he said, and swiftly unplugged his port before swabbing it down and putting it away. He paused long enough to grab a condom from his insulin kit—those zippered pouches proved handy from time to time—before stripping his own clothes.

“There is no way you’re going to fit inside,” Sophie said as he approached. As she was only halfway sitting up at the time, she was exactly on eye level with his erection—a thing his body interpreted with literal enjoyment.