But Naima had found it.
And now… so had I.
The trees thinned just enough for sunlight to streak through in hazy ribbons, glinting off the surface of the creek as it rushed over smooth rocks and fallen branches. The air smelled like cedar and crushed herbs, the kind of scent that calmed your chest before your brain had time to argue.
And there she was.
Perched on a thick blanket, cross-legged, eyes closed. Her soft curls twisted high on her head, loose tendrils brushing her neck. That amethyst crystal rested just above her breasts, glinting like it belonged in the earth itself.
She looked like the wild had made her.
No guests, no other staff. Just us.
Her eyes didn’t open, but her lips curved. Like she felt me there. Like she already knew.
I took a step closer, and she tipped her chin in acknowledgment.
“You’re heavy-footed for a man who sneaks around trees like a shadow,” she murmured, voice low, teasing.
“Didn’t mean to sneak,” I said, stopping at the edge of her blanket. “You looked like a part of the land. I didn’t want to disturb anything.”
“You didn’t.” Her eyes opened slowly, dragging over me in a long, deliberate sweep. “Not anything I wasn’t already waiting for.”
My dick stirred. Hard. Immediate. And suddenly I forgot my purpose in coming out here to find her. Truths stopped mattering because she was everything and she was looking at my need.
Refusing to pretend not to notice.
Naima unfolded herself, rising to her knees, then to her feet with the grace of a dancer. Her dress shifted with the movement, brushing over her curves like the wind didn’t want to let go.
When she stepped into my space, her palm settled on my chest, warm through my shirt. Her other hand slid lower.
And lower.
Until it found me.
The thick length of me pressed against my shorts, already straining, already pulsing.
She stroked me through the fabric, slow and deliberate. Watching me.
I couldn’t breathe right.
Her hand moved with purpose now—up, down, pressure just right, thumb flicking across the tip, even through the barrier. I gritted my teeth, but my hips betrayed me, bucking slightly into her touch.
“Breathe,” she whispered. “Let yourself feel it.”
I didn’t have a choice.
I reached for her, fingers finding the straps of her dress, pulling them down her arms, slow. Her breasts spilled free—rich brown, full, perfect handfuls with tight, aching peaks I needed to taste.
I bent, took one into my mouth, sucking deep, my hand squeezing the other, thumb flicking across her nipple as she kept stroking me—more confident now.
My breath hitched. My eyes damn near crossed.
“Fuck,” I growled against her skin.
Her hand slipped beneath the waistband of my shorts. Flesh on flesh.
Hot. Tight. Smooth. She gripped me, bare now, her strokes maddening. Firm. Wet from my own need.
