by Noelle Adams
It started to sprinkle on their way back, but Emily made it into their very expensive two-room tent without getting too wet. They’d set up the self-inflating air mattress made for camping and the rest of the bedding in the tent earlier, and she happily puttered around, organizing various supplies they might need during the night and zipping up one of the screened vents they'd left open earlier.
Paul, however, had stopped by the back of the SUV to grab a small cooler of bottled water, since Emily was afraid she’d get thirsty before morning.
He got caught in the sudden downpour and was drenched by the time he reached the tent.
“Damn,” he muttered, leaning over to get in through the flap and then fastening it tightly behind him. “It couldn’t have waited two more minutes?”
Emily couldn’t help but snicker, although she was sure she wouldn’t have found it funny had she been the one getting drenched. When he gave her a peeved look, she smiled at him apologetically and handed him a towel she’d had the foresight to bring into the tent earlier.
Paul wiped the water off his hair and face and then took off his soaked t-shirt so he could dry off his damp chest too.
She looked on with interest, admiring the strong, graceful muscle tone of his chest, arms, and abdomen. It was very dark outside, and the room of the tent was lit only by the light of two lanterns. It cast odd but strangely compelling shadows on Paul's body.
When he caught her looking at him, she gave him a bright smile. “Sorry you got so wet.”
“It’s fine.” He reached over toward the stack of his neatly folded clothes in a corner of the tent. “What’s a little water?”
Emily listened to the rain pound on the tent above her as she watched Paul pull on a dry black t-shirt. “It sounds like a lot of water. I guess we’ll see how well your luxury tent holds up.”
“Your luxury tent. It was your birthday present.”
She reached over and grabbed a sweatshirt to hand to him. “You should wear this. It already feels kind of cold out, and it will just get colder with the rain.”
He took the sweatshirt and seemed to consider it. Then he shook his head. “I don’t like to sleep in long sleeves. I’ll put it on later if I’m cold.”
She started to argue, mostly because camping was her idea and she hated the thought of his getting too cold, but he was perfectly capable of deciding whether he needed a sweatshirt or not, so she bit back her automatic objection. He usually didn’t even sleep with a shirt on, so she supposed he was compromising by wearing the t-shirt. Instead, she said, “So, seriously, do you think this tent will hold up to the downpour?”
“It better. It was marketed as the best—made to use in four seasons and to withstand any sort of weather.”
He was wearing the jeans he’d had on all day because, she assumed, he hadn’t wanted to change into his pajama pants in the public restrooms like she had. He started to undo the top button of his wet pants but then glanced over at her.
She smiled again. She supposed she could have gone into the sleeping room of their tent to give him some privacy, but she didn't really want to. “I’ve seen everything you’ve got,” she teased. “Don’t be shy on account of me.” She was genuinely amused by his expression, but she was also trying to cover a little self-consciousness with irony. There was something oddly personal about watching him undress in a context that wasn't sexual.
Paul couldn’t restrain a chuckle as he shucked his wet jeans, a little awkwardly because of the space limitations in the tent and the wetness of the fabric. He didn’t take off his underwear, so she assumed they hadn’t gotten wet.
His long, masculine legs were well worth looking at as he pulled on his pajama pants.
She was sitting on a comfortable folding chair, and she accepted the bottle of water Paul offered her with thanks. She started to take a sip but gasped a little when a strong gust of wind whipped at the fabric of their tent.
“Seems to be holding up,” Paul said, pausing to observe the stability of the tent. “If it fails us, we can sleep in the back of the SUV.”
“That’s not the same. Camping should take place in a tent.”
"Then we'll have to trust the tent. Were you ready for bed, or did you want to do something?"
Emily reflected for a moment. Sex was obviously off the table because of Paul's mood that day, and she wasn't feeling particularly inclined in that direction anyway. She could read. Or she could see if Paul had any ideas for entertainment. But it was so dark it felt like it should be much later at night than it was, and she was getting tired. So she concluded, "I think I'll just go to bed."
She didn't assume that Paul had to go to bed at the same time, but she was pleased when he followed her into the second room of the tent without comment.
She looked in satisfaction at the high-quality air bed, made up temptingly with pillows, sheets, and queen-sized sleeping bag. She'd never camped very much as she was growing up, but the few times she had before had been uncomfortable in a number of ways. These sleeping arrangements didn't seem uncomfortable at all.
She crawled under the sleeping bag, and Paul got in beside her. She immediately scooted over to cuddle up against him. That was how they normally fell asleep now, and the rain and dark night made her want to snuggle even more than usual. She sighed with pleasure when he wrapped his arms around her.
“If you get too cold, we can’t stay out here. I’m not going to risk your getting sick.”
“I’m not going to get sick. I feel perfectly warm right now.” She did. Paul’s body always generated wonderful heat, and the sleeping bag was the kind that was supposed to be good for sub-zero temperatures. The tent was supposed to hold in heat too, so she figured they were protected on all fronts.
The sheets of rain pounding down on the tent were unsettling, even though the tent itself never leaked. She could smell the outdoors, the dirt, the rain, and she jerked in surprise every time a gust of wind blew violently against their tent.
“You okay?” Paul asked, after a few minutes in silence. He’d turned off the lanterns and they were surrounded now by nothing but pitch darkness.
“Yeah. It’s a little strange, since I’ve never really been a camping person, and I'm not used to it. Even in the tent, I feel a little…exposed. But it’s kind of cool really, as long as the tent doesn’t collapse.”
“If it collapses, someone is going to hear about it.”
She laughed softly at his dry voice in the darkness. "Like everyone heard it from you today?"
"Yeah," Paul muttered. He shifted slightly. "Sorry about that."
"That's okay. Everyone gets in a bad mood occasionally. Even me."
Paul's huff of amusement blew gently against her hair. "That I can believe."
She liked the fondness in his voice, even though she couldn't see his face. She burrowed against his heat, loving the feel of his lean, hard body against hers and the strength of his arms around her. She didn't even mind that he was wearing a shirt, although she liked his bare chest better. “It actually would be kind of nice to sleep out under the stars. I think that’s what I was imagining when I wrote the list.”
“Maybe we can tomorrow night. If it’s not raining or too cold. We’ll have plenty of time to commune with nature tomorrow.”
She smiled at the thought. “I hope it doesn’t rain all day. That would suck.”
“The weather report said there were just supposed to be occasional showers this weekend.”
“Good.” She shifted against him, feeling cozy but not really sleepy. She supposed this could have been a romantic moment, cuddled up next to her husband in the middle of a rainstorm. But she didn’t have any desire to take off her clothes, and in her baggy sweatshirt and thick pajama pants, she wasn’t feeling remotely sexy.
She felt very pleasant. But not sexy.
She adjusted her position again, trying to get used to the feel of the air mattress. It really wasn’t too bad—certainly much better than sleeping directly on the ground
. It wasn’t like a normal bed, though.
In the midst of her wriggling, she felt something surprising against her middle. She shifted against it again experimentally.
Paul’s breath hitched.
“Oh,” she said, surprised and oddly gratified by the feel of his obvious arousal poking into her. She couldn't understand why he'd gotten turned on, since he couldn't see her and she was wearing thick, baggy clothes, but it made her proud nonetheless. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
“I know you didn’t,” he said, in a slightly aggrieved voice. “But you might rethink all that squirming next time.”
“I wasn’t squirming. I was just trying to get comfortable.”
“Either way…”
Emily started to feel a little guilty, since she could now sense a visceral tension in Paul’s body, in addition to the feel of his substantial erection beneath the soft fabric of his pants. While it was nice to get an ego boost, she didn’t really want Paul to suffer. “I’m sorry. Is it really frustrating for you, since you’re in that mood and can’t do anything about it?”
There was a strangely resonant pause, broken only by the lashing of rain against their tent. Paul held himself very still as he said, “I’m not in that mood anymore. If you wanted to, we could have sex.”
“Oh.” Emily tried to peer at his face, but—even though her eyes had adjusted some to the deep darkness—it was just too dark to see anything more than the general shape of his head.
She was torn. Part of her thought it was crazy—absolutely crazy—to turn down sex when Paul was offering it. But the other part of her wasn’t really in the mood, since she hadn’t been expecting it and she was too cozy right now to undress or get urgent and sweaty.
“We don’t have to,” he said mildly, evidently reading her hesitation correctly, “if you’re not in the mood.”
“You know I really want to have sex with you normally. It’s just kind of cold,” she explained. “And I’d have to take my clothes off. And I didn’t think we could today, so I wasn’t—”
“It’s fine, Emily. Believe it or not, I can make do without sex.”
She giggled at his irony, but there was something in the words and in his bland tone that she thought was remarkably sweet. She stretched up in the general direction of his head. She planted a kiss somewhere in the vicinity of his lips. It felt like it landed on his chin, so she moved up a little until she reached his mouth.
He kissed her back, his tongue gently exploring her lips and then nudging questioningly into her mouth.
The kiss was very nice. She reached one hand up to stroke the nape of his neck like she was learning he really liked. She felt more tender than aroused, but she enjoyed the sensation of his skillful mouth against hers, his hot, tense body against her, even with several layers of clothing between them. She loved the low moan he made into the kiss as she caressed his neck.
It was the strangest feeling. She’d never understood she could feel this way. She didn’t feel any pressing desire for an orgasm herself, but something thrilled inside her at being close to Paul, at pleasing him, at being there for him.
When he pulled his mouth away, she murmured, feeling strangely shy, “We can. I don’t mind.”
His muscles tightened palpably, but his voice was controlled—just a little thick—as he replied, “No. We’re not going to do it unless you’re in the mood too.”
She started to argue but decided against it. Instead she leaned over to kiss him again, missing at first but shifting until she was able to settle her lips against his once more.
He responded immediately, one of his arms tightening around her and the other hand sliding down to cup her bottom, pressing her pelvis gently against his.
Feeling a surge of pleasure—more emotional than physical—Emily eased her hand in between their bodies until she found the length of his erection through his pajama pants. He groaned against her mouth and jerked his hips slightly when she gently squeezed.
He tore his mouth away, breathing raggedly. “I’m sorry, baby. If we’re not going to have sex, we better stop.”
Her heartbeat had accelerated, and pleasure and tenderness coursed through her. “But I wanted to do this,” she breathed, applying gentle pressure to his arousal. “Can’t we just do this?”
“You want to…” Paul was so tense from leashed desire now he was almost shaking, and she really wished she could see his face.
She squeezed him intimately again and stroked his neck with her other hand, loving the way the texture of his hair mingled with his warm skin. “I was liking it,” she told him, feeling a little embarrassed but not enough to withdraw. “Is it not good for you?”
Paul released the most textured groan she’d ever heard, the sound doing something intense to her chest and even generating a little ache between her legs. “Yes, it’s good. If you’re sure…”
She kissed him again. Then said against his lips, “I’m sure. I like it.”
Before she’d even articulated the last word, he’d claimed her mouth again in a deep kiss. Very daring, she slipped her hand beneath the waistband of his pajama pants so she could get a better grip on his erection.
She’d never really given a hand job before, and she wasn’t exactly sure how to best do it. But she loved the feel of his hard, hot flesh under her palm, and he started making little pumps of his hips, so she figured that was the rhythm he wanted.
She tried to keep kissing him, but she started to lose her coordination as she got so excited about the way his body grew more intense, hot, tight. It felt like something had coiled inside him, about to be unleashed. And it thrilled her. It thrilled her.
She massaged him as best she could, responding to the urgent little thrusts he started to make into her hand. But sustaining the kiss was soon beyond her.
It seemed beyond him too. His mouth broke away, and he panted erratically against her hair.
She could sense the change in his body. He radiated heat, and the carnal tension shuddered all through him. The slight jerking of his hips got faster.
“Oh, fuck, baby. I’m going to…I’m going to…”
She was holding her breath now, pumping him hard and fast. Then she felt him unleash, let go, release.
He came with a hard groan, his body freezing for a moment before it let go. She kept squeezing him through the contractions, and he mumbled out words—she couldn’t recognize any of them except "baby" and her name.
She was overwhelmed with pleasure, with tenderness, with emotion so deep she couldn’t find a name for it. Her fingers had tightened on the back of Paul’s neck in her excitement, and she was afraid she might have scratched him. She softened her grip and stroked him gently again. Then she released his softening erection, caressing him there a few final times.
Her hand was a little sticky from his come, but she didn’t mind. It made her feel almost proud of herself in a silly way. When she pulled her hand out of his pants, she sat up until she could reach the box of tissues she’d brought with her. She wiped off her hand and then cleaned Paul up too.
Paul was still gasping, lying limply on the mattress. When she'd cleaned up as best she could in the dark, she cuddled up happily next to his hot, replete body.
“Thank you.” He pressed a light kiss into her hair. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” she told him. Since the only part of him she could easily reach was his shoulder, she kissed him there over his shirt. “I liked it.”
“I can take care of you now if you want.” He sounded warm and drowsy, like he wouldn't mind going to sleep, but she was sure the offer was genuine.
“I’m good,” she said. She’d gotten a little turned on, but not enough to make it worth the effort of trying to reach orgasm when she was so cozy and content as it was.
“Maybe later.” He adjusted, pulling her into his arms more securely.
“Definitely later,” she agreed. She nestled against him, listening to the rain. It didn’t sound s
o torrential now, and the tent was still nice and dry. The air was very cool, but she was warm with Paul under the sleeping bag. “I think I like camping,” she murmured, rather foolishly. It felt like she might drift off to sleep at any moment.
Paul sounded like he was about to fall asleep as well. “Maybe I like it too.”
TEN
Emily was looking hot and flushed, and Paul was getting worried.
They’d been hiking for over an hour, and they’d left the woodland trail a while ago because Emily said it felt too commercial and not authentic enough to the PEI experience. By that, he assumed it didn’t feel as much like Anne of Green Gables as she wanted.
He hadn’t minded leaving the trail. They had a well-detailed map of the area, including all of the established hiking trails. He also had a top-of-the-line hiking navigator that was ultra-durable and waterproof and came equipped with high-sensitivity GPS, barometric altimeter, electronic compass, and an enormous collection of preloaded maps. He wasn’t worried about their getting lost, and he had been finding the trail a little boring himself, especially since they kept running into other tourists who all seemed to want to chat.
But Emily’s face was red now, and her skin was damp with perspiration. He started to get prickles of concern. The last time she’d gotten a fever, it had come on her without warning and had spiked in just an hour or two.
They were walking through a thickly wooded area that occasionally thinned out into little meadows, ponds, or creeks. They’d plotted a route on Paul’s navigator that would take them from the place they left the trail through the woodlands and then back along the beach until they reached where they’d parked the SUV.
“How are you feeling?” Paul asked, when he’d glanced over at Emily again and saw that she still looked troublingly hot.
She gave him a confused look. “I’m fine. I’m in decent shape, you know. I’m not going to collapse from a few miles of hiking.”
“I didn’t think you were. I was just wondering how you were feeling in general.” Because he couldn’t resist, he reached over and felt her forehead.