Page 19 of After All
I grab the blankets I haven’t taken out from my impromptu camping trip last week, pushing the small pop-up tent to the side. I won’t need that tonight.
Digging under the seat, I find my five-foot long body pillow, thankful I’ve been too busy to take all this into the house to store away for the next trip.
I line the bed of the truck with the thickest blanket, the one I usually put on the ground before I make my pallet bed inside the tent. Layering the other blankets and folding them so that the majority of the padding is up next to the back of the cab, I stretch the pillow along the back wall and hop down.
I open her door and offer my hand for her to step down. Her sandaled feet hit the rocks, and I lead her towards the bed of the truck. The tailgate’s down, and she looks up at me, surprised.
“What’s this?”
“Look at the stars with me?” I ask.
As absolutely corny and cliche as it sounds, her smile could light half of Tennessee when I ask.
“Of course.”
I lift her by the waist to the tailgate and wait for her to scoot back before I climb in beside her. I settle against the back window and rest my arm on the lip right below. Tucking her into my side, I ask another quiet question.
“What about kissing?”
Chapter 14
Amelie
“Oh. Well. That’s a little different.”
“How so?”
“I love kissing. But, you know what I see most often in my couples? A lot of guys don’t know what to do with their hands when they kiss a woman.”
“Now, this I have to hear.” He leans away enough that he can look down and see my face as I answer.
I shrug. “Most men think kissing isn’t all that intimate. They think it’s just a precursor to the party, but kissing is the most intimate thing you can do.”
“Agreed. Wholeheartedly.”
I sneak a glance at him, but his head rests against the back glass, and his eyes are closed. The thought ricocheting around in my brain like a pinball hits me so fast and so hard, I can’t ignore even if I wanted.
I rise to my knees and straddle his hips before he has any clue I’ve moved. I’m small, and I’m fast.
“Whatcha doin’?”
“Prove me wrong, or at least try. I’m in your lap. Where do you put your hands? Where would a woman want you to put them?”
He studies me quietly for a bit, and when he finally speaks, he sends my heart rate into overdrive. “I’m not too awfully concerned about where just any woman would want them. I am, however, particularly interested in where the woman currently straddling my thighs would want them.”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
He raises one eyebrow and tips his head towards me. “Where, Amelie?” It’s a whisper, so quiet I almost don’t hear him, and we sit only inches apart.
“One on my hip…”
His left hand grazes my knee, slides up my thigh, and curls around my hip, his fingers squeezing the flesh of my butt, and his thumb falling into that little dip where my thigh meets my torso.
I shiver, the warm weather be damned.
“And the other?”
“On my neck, in my hair.”
