He'd thought earlier of making a cast of it, but who cared now? He was gazing at Zoe, topless in the moonlight. Nothing was more important than that. Her nipples puckered in the cool night air. If this were a movie scene, primitive drums would be beating in the background.
He fought back an intense urge to back her up against the nearest tree. You didn't do that with a multimillion-dollar star. The bark would scratch her skin.
But he wanted a better angle. "Come here." Slipping his arm around her waist, he managed to maneuver them both to their knees without falling over. The pine needles crackled, and somewhere in the distance an owl hooted.
"We could go inside," she murmured.
"I know." He kissed her with all the longing he felt. Inside were condoms. Out here he had a built-in chastity belt. Breaking off the kiss, he sat down and managed to pull her, laughing, into his lap.
"We could go inside," she said again.
"I know." Instead he settled her crossways on his lap, where a major erection lived. He wasn't letting that bad boy out to play, either. He'd drawn some sort of ragged line in the sand for his ever-present conscience, and keeping his package covered was part of that internal bargain.
"That's better." He had the angle he needed to enjoy every square inch of her breasts.
"I think you're sitting on the footprint."
"That's the way it goes." He dipped his head and took his reward for negotiating a tricky compromise between complete surrender and total self-denial.
Chapter Ten
Media alert! Man loses forty IQ points at his first glimpse of Zoe Tarleton's tits! He's actually going to perform mammary worship out in the woods? They should be more careful. What if they plopped down in a bunch of poison oak?
I guess they don't care. Look at them going at it like they're the only two people out here. Little do they know. They'd be peeing their pants if they saw me standing barely thirty feet away. But they're way too busy to look.
Me, I'm all about looking. The way she's moaning and wiggling, you'd think he had the best technique in the universe. She's probably laying it on thick for his benefit. That "ooh, ooh, baby" routine sounds fake to me.
Then again, maybe she's really turned on. Maybe she'll let him boink her right there on the pine needles. She might get a butt full of pine needles before this is over.
I wouldn't mind catching that show, now that I think about it. It's like watching a train wreck. I can't look away. And why should I?
Zoe hadn't had outdoor sex—with the exception of scripted scenes in a movie—for years. She doubted they'd have full-blown outdoor sex now, either, but what they were having was most excellent. She had very sensitive breasts, and Flynn had a very gifted mouth. Good combo.
Mm, wonderful combo. He was bringing on some major developments, developments that made her squirm in his lap and wish he'd add another dimension to the mix. Her tush registered what was happening under the fly of his pants, which was exciting to contemplate.
The more she wiggled and moaned, the harder he became. She suspected he wasn't planning on doing anything about that, being condomless right now. But she was getting desperate.
"Flynn..." His name came out as a groan, and she discovered talking wasn't all that easy when she was breathing so fast. "You're driving me... crazy."
His breath was hot against her damp skin. "What do you want, Zoe?"
Oh, God, he was going to make her say it. She didn't know if she could.
He nipped lightly at her breast. "Tell me," he murmured.
A cool chick should have no trouble asking for what she wanted, but when it came to sex, Zoe wasn't cool at all. She sucked in a breath. "I want..." But she couldn't finish the sentence.
Kissing his way back to her mouth, he hovered there, brushing his lips over hers. "What? What do you want?"
Need trumped modesty. "Your hand down my pants."
She quivered in his arms, astonished that she'd said it out loud.
"My pleasure." In one efficient movement he slid his hand under both the elastic of her sweats and the elastic of her panties. When he connected with her main event and joined the party already in progress there, she groaned again, even louder this time.
She learned quickly that Flynn was talented right down to his fingertips. If she'd ever been stroked better than this, she didn't remember it. He had the rhythm, and she had the shakes. Between his hot mouth on hers and his clever fingers inside her panties, practically no time elapsed before she was in final countdown.
This was so superior to a vibrator. She'd almost forgotten the pleasure of being given an orgasm instead of having to round one up for herself. She had to do something about her nonexistent sex life. Then all thoughts evaporated as she went ballistic with an orgasm that ranked at least 8.5 on the Richter scale.
She wrenched away from his kiss so she could yell. This was one perfect climax, and the world should know about it.
Laughing, Flynn peppered her face with kisses. "You should probably keep it down."
Zoe let out another bellow of satisfaction and clung to him, panting as he took his hand out of her underwear. "They'll just... think... it's Bigfoot."
"No, they won't," he said, still laughing.
When she opened her eyes, she could see the white flash of his teeth in the moonlight. "Why not?"
"There's a huge difference between the howl of a Sasquatch and the yell of a woman coming."
"What are you, some kind of expert?" With her arms looped around his neck, she lay there in that lovely aftermath state she'd sorely missed. How great to feel squishy as a handful of warm pasta. What a miracle climaxes were. Instant stress reducer. She didn't want to move, ever.
"An expert on which, the Sasquatch howls or women coming yells'?" "Both."
"I've ... been present at a fair share of climactic moments."
"Nice." And now that she'd discovered one of his methods for giving a woman the Big O, she longed to experience the full range of his abilities in that department. But she mustn't get greedy. Once was more than she should have allowed herself.
"I'm not bragging or anything."
"I didn't think you were. You're not the bragging type." Which made his sexual quotient that much more interesting. "So what about the Sasquatch howls? Why can you identify those?"
"I've heard tapes."
She began to get the picture. "You've studied all about Bigfoot, haven't you?" "Some. When I was a kid."
And she'd bet he'd been fascinated back then. He'd shown signs of still being fascinated. She wondered if they'd managed to obliterate the footprint she'd found. "You mean to tell me that we're sitting on the realization of a childhood dream, the evidence of which we might have mashed completely with all that scooting around?"
He smiled. "I'm sitting on a childhood dream. You're sitting on me, and that's plenty of compensation for a mashed footprint."
"I don't see how it can be much compensation. All things considered." "That's okay."
"Flynn, I'm well aware that it's not okay. You have to be uncomfortable." She paused, evaluating his condition from the evidence pressing against her bottom. He was sporting quite an erection.
Although she had an idea of what to do, suggesting what she was thinking about suggesting was bolder than she'd ever been in her life. Besides, it might constitute trying to steal someone's boyfriend. She was already on shaky ground in that area.
Some people didn't think oral sex counted, but Zoe thought it counted double. After all, look at the hullabaloo over that incident with Hugh Grant a few years ago. If Zoe engaged in such an exercise with Flynn, she would be another step down the slippery slope that could lead to stealing him from Kristen.
Somehow she had to segue from this highly charged situation to the platonic relationship they'd had before he'd stuck his hand down her pants. Maybe she should act as if he'd done her an ordinary favor, something equivalent to picking up her dry cleaning or taking her car in for an oil change. That might work—treati
ng this as a normal interchange between two friends.
"I appreciate what you did for me just now," she said. "Thank you so much."
He sounded amused, although he managed to keep a straight face. "You're welcome."
She took a deep breath. "So what do you say, Flynn? How about some of that blueberry cobbler?"
Then she had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from laughing as she thought about the masturbation scene in American Pie. Blueberry cobbler might work about as well, except the juice would make a terrible mess. Blueberry stained something awful.
Flynn cleared his throat. "I think I'll take a pass."
"You're sure? Margo said it was really yummy." Talk about wholesome conversation. She sounded like June Cleaver. No one listening would ever suspect that Flynn had just put his hand down her pants.
Unfortunately, her attempt to distract him from sex wasn't working, judging from the fully inflated condition of his Johnson. Maybe he'd associated blueberry cobbler with the scene in American Pie, too, and so her suggestion was turning him on worse instead of helping him get control.
"You go ahead," he said. "I'll be along later."
She had a strong suspicion he planned to stay out here and finish what she was reluctant to. It looked as if she'd feel guilty regardless. "That's just not right," she said.
"If you're worried for my safety, don't be. The Northern California Sasquatch isn't menacing. There are no documented reports that one has ever—"
"You deserve more than a hand job in the woods, Flynn."
He coughed, and his penis stirred beneath her. "What... what makes you think that's what I had in mind?"
"Women's intuition."
"Maybe I was going to walk around a little until the situation resolved itself."
She gazed up into his face. He looked so much more accessible without his glasses. "No, you weren't."
"You can't know I wasn't."
"I can so."
His eyebrows lifted. "How?"
"That wouldn't be logical. If you don't take care of the problem, it will... umm... keep popping up, so to speak."
"God, Zoe. Just forget about it, okay?"
"I should help you out."
His penis flexed again, but he shook his head. "No. Thanks anyway."
"You're sure?"
His smile was tight. "If you really want to help, you'll get up and go into the cabin."
"And not look back, right?"
"Right."
"If you insist." She got her legs under her and put both hands on his shoulders. "Give me a boost."
He slid his hands under her bottom and hoisted her upward. As she pushed herself to her feet, her breasts rubbed against his face and he drew in a sharp breath.
"Sorry." She located her sweatshirt and bra lying on a carpet of pine needles. "Didn't mean to make things worse." Staffing the bra in the pocket of her sweats, she pulled the sweatshirt over her head.
"It's my own fault," he said. "I knew kissing you was a mistake, but I did it anyway."
"To stop me from being scared?"
"Yeah, that, and... I kind of lost control there for a minute because I was so excited about finding that footprint."
Zoe glanced around the area. "I really think you are sitting on it."
"I think I am, too. Now go on inside, Zoe."
"Okay." She started toward the cabin. "Zoe?"
She turned back, thinking he'd changed his mind. Her heart started beating faster as she imagined how she'd engineer this. She should probably have him stand up, so that she could get on her knees. If he stayed sitting down, that could be very awkward, but if he leaned against a tree, then—
"What's a nerd bra?"
Not what she'd expected him to say. She had this all worked out in her mind, and he was talking about bras. Pulling it out of her pocket, she studied it in the moonlight. Yes, it was boring, but Flynn hadn't seemed bored by it. Quite the contrary.
"That's what I call it," she said. "I figured a nerd wouldn't spend time worrying about the sex appeal of her underwear while she was researching something like this ultimate pill, so I bought plain ones that hooked in the back, so I'd be more in character."
"Oh." He swallowed. "I just wondered."
"There's that curiosity again." She made a mental note. Nerds were curious about all kinds of things, even bras. She wanted in the worst way to ask him if Kristen wore this kind, but that would be prying.
Truth be told, she could be curious, too, and she was very curious about Flynn's girlfriend—what she looked like, whether she was skinny or plump, sexy or not. A guy like Flynn should have a sexy girlfriend. He was one hot-blooded man.
She took a step back toward him. "Flynn, I really think you should let me take care of—"
"No."
"We're out in the middle of the woods. I wouldn't tell anyone. It could be our little secret."
"Thank you, but no."
"Then I guess I'll go read the script." She stuffed the bra back in her pocket and turned around.
As she walked toward the cabin, she tried to remember if she'd ever heard of a guy rejecting an offer of oral sex. Nope, not really. In her experience, this was a first. She'd never heard any of her girlfriends mention this phenomenon, either.
No doubt about it, a fully aroused man who could say no to a blow job was probably harder to find than a Sasquatch footprint. And to think she'd encountered both in one night.
With a groan, Flynn levered himself upright. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a painful hard-on. Maybe never. He grimaced as he recalled his conversation with Zoe. She'd totally read his mind. In the anonymous shadow of a tree, he could solve his problem, at least for now.
Solving it for the rest of the weekend was another matter entirely. He could hardly keep making trips out to the woods, but he couldn't think of any other way to get through the next forty-eight hours. His case of lust was a hundred times worse now that he'd nuzzled her breasts and shoved his hand down her pants.
The consequence of that behavior was making a serious dent in his slacks. And wouldn't you know—Zoe had tried to distract him by mentioning the blueberry cobbler, and immediately he'd thought of the masturbation scene in American Pie. He hadn't thought of that apple pie scene in years, but with Zoe around, everything became a sexual reference.
Time to get some relief. He reached into his pocket for his glasses—not that he'd need them for this activity, but he didn't want to trip over a branch while he was searching for the right spot. If he fell face-forward in this condition he might nail himself to the forest floor.
Stepping into the deep shadow of a nearby pine tree, he started to unzip. Then he heard footsteps crackling across the pine needles. They were coming from the opposite side of the tree, and they were heading in his direction.
His first thought—that Zoe had circled back—died as he measured the heavy footfall. From the rhythm he could tell it was a two-footed animal and not a four-footed one. The fine hairs on the back of his neck quivered.
Had Bigfoot returned? He glanced toward the cabin and wished he'd reminded Zoe to lock the door. The footsteps were coming his way, though, and not going toward the cabin, so she was in no immediate danger.
He, on the other hand, could be. He was close to the tree, but not close enough to hide behind it. Dry pine needles were everywhere underfoot. Moving would give away his position, so he was stuck right where he was. Maybe the shadow of the tree would disguise him.
He had no reason to be afraid, not really. He could stop shaking any time now. Everything he'd read about the Northern California Sasquatch had emphasized that they were not dangerous. But still—corning face-to-face with a creature fourteen feet tall, a creature with the strength to annihilate him, would be unnerving. A rogue Sasquatch wasn't entirely out of the question, either.
One good thing was happening, though. As the footsteps grew closer and louder, Flynn's erection wilted. No problem in that department anymore.
W
hoever—or whatever—was coming toward him was almost here, maybe only about five yards from the tree.
Flynn's breathing seemed unnaturally loud, so he held his breath. And of course he was wearing a white shirt, which would make him more visible in the dark.
Maybe he should take off the shirt. Yeah, right. And do what? Eat it? He tried to gauge the direction of the wind, but there seemed to be no wind at all. Bigfoot had a highly developed sense of smell, and ... wait a minute! Bigfoot was supposed to stink! Flynn couldn't smell a thing. But then again, he wasn't breathing. Of course he couldn't smell a thing.
The footsteps approached the tree, came around the tree...
"Whoa!" A tall kid in baggy jeans with his shirttail hanging out slid to a halt beside the tree. "You scared the pee out of me, dude!"
Flynn let out his breath. "Likewise." A kid. A teenager. Probably Luanne's older brother, Jeff, alias Frankenstein. He had his hair waxed into little spikes all over his head, and a heavy silver chain hung around his neck. Apparently Jeff liked walking around the woods at night just like his sister.
"Sorry about that, man." The kid looked him over. "I'm going to take a wild guess that you're staying in the rental cabin for the weekend. Am I right?"
Flynn nodded. "I'm going to take a wild guess that you're Jeff."
"You've heard of me already? Awesome!"
"Luanne came by earlier."
"Oh. Well, don't go believing whatever she said. She's got an imagination that won't quit. I'll bet she was all 'He's so weird, I call him Frankenstein.''"
Flynn tried not to smile.
"She said that, didn't she? She's such a brat."
Flynn decided to change the subject. "She said you were out on a date."
Jeff looked startled. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's right. Just got back a little while ago. Thought I'd, like, take a walk."
"Me, too." Flynn realized this could have turned out much worse. Jeff could have come along a few minutes later. Or several minutes earlier.
"I heard there was a Bigfoot sighting tonight," Jeff said. "So I thought I'd check it out. You spot anything?"
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