A few minutes later, the air around us shifts. She’s close. I feel it the second she lets go and begins to come undone. Everything south of my navel twitches with satisfaction. It’s beautiful watching her overcome with her release.

But I barely have time to savor it, because I hear the rustle of footsteps on fallen leaves. Summer’s eyes snap open to meet mine.

“Hurry,” is the only word I get out before I begin pulling her along the path back into the darkness toward the cabins.

When we reach mine, I twist the doorknob and she follows me inside—no invite necessary. It seems she’s as eager to pick back up where we left off as I am.

We slip off our boots at the rug by the door, and I tip her chin up to meet my gaze. Her shaky smile grows, and then we’re both laughing.

I rub a hand through my hair. “Sorry. I guess I got carried away back there . . .”

But I don’t get to finish my apology because Summer’s mouth is on mine.

I kiss her back like my life depends on it, and maybe it does, because I’ve never felt this good, this free with anyone else ever before.

Breaking away briefly, I ask, “Will you stay?”

She nods once in understanding. This moment is too real, too perfect to just brush aside.

My hand slides from her hair to the column of her graceful neck, then her shoulder, and I enjoy the feel of soft cotton beneath my fingertips. Summer wets her lower lip with the tip of her tongue. Her mouth is beautiful, and wicked thoughts dance through my head.

My hand slides lower until it comes to rest on her lower back. The movement thrusts her forward slightly, and her soft curves graze my chest, my abdomen, and lower—where surely she can feel how hard I am beneath my jeans. She responds with a tiny shiver.

I can’t help it . . . all the crackling electricity between us has me eager and aching. Tugging her over to the couch, I sink onto it with her. The cabin is dim, lit only by the light above the kitchen sink, which casts broad shadows, and little flickers of glowing orange from the embers in the woodstove.

Summer settles into my lap. We grind together and kiss, both of us willing to pretend—at least for now—that this isn’t a dangerous game.

When she brings her hand between us to rub at my swollen erection, I bite back a groan.

I open my mouth to say something. What, I’m not sure. But when she slides from my lap to the floor between my parted knees, I forget how to breathe, much less speak.

Who needs words right now, anyway? Certainly not me.