“On the mouth?” he asked with a dubious look.
“No, in my ear!” she shot back.
His eyes went wide.
“Of course, my mouth!” she clarified.
“I do want to kiss you, Georgie,” he said, his expression softening.
She swallowed past the emotion in her throat. “You do?”
He took a tentative step toward her. “I’m sorry, Georgie.”
She stroked the scruff on his cheek. “I know you are. I’m sorry, too.”
“I don’t know why I said those things and got so worked up back at camp,” he confessed.
She cocked her head to the side. “I haven’t exactly been at my best either.”
A playful glint gleamed in his eyes. “Don’t worry. I still love you, Virginia,” he teased.
She chuckled, thinking back on Camille and Brice. “I can’t believe his middle name is Hannibal.”
“Right? What kind of parent would do that?” he mused.
She shrugged. “I hardly know anything about babies, but I know enough not to name one Hannibal.”
“Can I tell you something awful?” he asked with a wicked quirk to his lips.
“Always,” she answered.
“I thought it was hilarious Brice outed Camille for downing a bag of Cheetos.”
“Hey, I ate a tube of vegan chocolate chip cookie dough,” she countered.
“And that is what sets you apart from the Plunger Princess. You, Georgiana Jensen, and your binge food choice of overpriced organic cookie dough shows you’ve got class.”
She shook out her wild locks of hair. “Classy like this?” she asked, striking a pose that would surely elicit Kardashian approval.
“Classy like you traded out your double Ds for quadruple Ds,” Jordan replied, mimicking Brice’s surfer-dude-crossed-with-a-pretty-boy voice while gesturing to her chest.
“If they can handle this, we can handle this, right?” she asked, dropping the shenanigans.
He cupped her face in his hands. “I know we can,” he whispered against her lips before capturing her mouth in a sensual kiss.
This is what she needed. This man. Her More-Than-Just-a-Number, Jordan. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he slid his hands from her face, down her back and pulled her body flush with his.
“Georgiana, I’ve missed this so much,” he breathed between kisses.
But she wanted more.
Like a Ferrari, her libido engine roared to life, going from zero to sixty in the space of a breath. She swayed her hips from side to side and brushed against his hard length.
“You are a naughty wilderness girl,” Jordan said, his voice growing gravelly, just the way she liked it.
“What’s more wilderness than doing it outdoors?” she purred as he kissed the corner of her mouth.
Jordan gripped her ass, and delicious tingles engulfed her body.
“What kind of not-sex sex could we call it?” he asked, working his way over to her earlobe.
“Communing with nature not-sex. It’s natural. Birds do it. Bees do it,” she said in a breathy singsong voice.
“Even deer jerky-eating fleas do it,” he replied, changing the words and making her giggle.
But before she could compliment him on his wit, his other hand worked its way down her back to rest on her butt, then stilled.
With both hands, he investigated her ass and gave her a mischievous pat down. “You’re not wearing underwear,” he remarked.
No, sir! She wasn’t.
A coy grin bloomed on her lips. “I’m fresh out of clean panties. I hope this isn’t a problem?”
“Commando in the wild?” he commented with a kiss to her neck.
“Pretty hot, huh?” she replied.
As if she were a green smoothie, he raked his gaze down her body and devoured her with his eyes.
“You have no idea.”
She took a step away, coming out of his embrace. He watched her curiously as she turned her back to him. With the skill of a pageant veteran, she sauntered over to a large rock and bent over, presenting her booty like a work of art.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Ready to commune with nature?”
“I love communing with nature,” he answered, sprinting over to her.
He gathered her unruly mass of hair, detangled it from the tracking device’s cord around her neck, brushed it over her shoulder, then pressed a kiss to the exposed skin. But he didn’t linger there for long. Jordan worked his way down to her waist, then peeled her yoga pants down to her ankles. The twilight air sent goose bumps down her body, but she didn’t mind. She’d been in a sleep-deprived wilderness-hating haze, and the cool breeze combined with the heat of Jordan’s body proved to be the perfect stimulant.
“I’m going to take you from behind like a National Geographic animal documentary,” Jordan growled into her ear.
Under normal circumstances, that comment would have made her laugh her ass off. But, after all they’d been through, she could totally get into this animal sex thing.
Jordan shrugged down his track pants and boxers, then pulled her close and pressed his rock-hard cock against her ass.
“I’m going to fuck you like an animal, Georgiana,” he said with another kiss to her neck.
A lightning bolt of lust shot through her body—or it could have been a real flash of lightning. At this point, her animal sex brain had taken over, and all she wanted was dirty girl take-me-from-behind not-fornication fornication.
She gasped. “We are hitting every naughty wilderness sex song.”
Jordan pressed his fingertips into the flesh of her hip while the tip of his cock teased her entrance.
Georgie closed her eyes as desire flowed through her.
“Touch me,” she moaned, and her fiancé knew what to do.
His large, skillful hand cupped her sex. With a deft caress, he teased her most sensitive place, working her in a rhythmic motion when something cold and wet pitter-pattered against her half-naked body.
“What’s that?” she gasped.
“A little rain. I’m sure it will pass,” he bit out as he slid inside her.
Sex outdoors in the rain for anyone to see? A wild sense of excitement popped and crackled through her body—or maybe it was more lightning.
But what did it matter?
They were fearless adventurers, led by their primal desire for carnal release.
It didn’t get more National Geographic graphic than that.
“I hope it doesn’t bother you I haven’t shaved in three days,” she moaned as he rocked his hips, filling her completely with long, luscious strokes of his hard length.
He wrapped her hair in his hand and gave a pull, sending another burst of fireworks through her body.
“I haven’t shaved either, babe,” he answered in a low rasp.
She reached back and ran her fingers down the scruff of his jawline. “True, but you get sexy while I get hairy like an—”
Jordan froze mid-thrust. “An alpaca,” he said, his voice losing its sexy growl.
She glanced back at her slack-jawed fiancé. “A what?”
“An alpaca, Georgie,” he repeated.
“Yeah, alpacas are hairy. I was going to say ape. But sure, we could go with alpaca.”
“Georgie, there’s an alpaca right there,” he said, still motionless.
A rumble of thunder cut through the gentle rain, ushering in a downpour, as she looked up to see the animal.
Jordan stepped back and pulled up his pants. “It’s looking at us. It’s watching us.”
Georgie blinked away the rain and pulled up her yoga capris. Yes, the alpaca probably didn’t care that they were bumping the wilderness uglies, but something seemed way off about being half-dressed in front of the inquisitive animal.
“Syd and Buck said they allowed their alpacas to roam around their land. This is probably one of them,” she offered.
Panic marred Jordan’s perfect stubbled face. “Georgie, I
hate to tell you this but—”
She pressed her hand to his lips, silencing him. “Are you about to tell me you’re afraid of alpacas?”
With her hand covering his mouth, he nodded.
As if the animal could sense Jordan’s apprehension, the creature emitted a high-pitched squeal.
Georgie screamed, jumping back and dropping her hand from her fiancé’s mouth.
“Oh my, God! Is that what they sound like?” she exclaimed, starting to get a little freaked out herself.
“Only when they’re mad,” Jordan answered as if he were narrating a Stephen King horror novel.
Her gaze bounced between the incensed animal and her panicked fiancé. “How do you know all this?”
“Do you remember where my goat phobia came from?” he asked.
She nodded, cupping her hand over her face to shield her eyes from the downpour. “Yes, you were at a petting zoo when you were little, and an asshole baby goat tried to eat your shirt. We cured you of that fear during the Battle of the Blogs back in June.”
“There’s something I didn’t tell you about the petting zoo, Georgie,” he began, staring at the massive creature.
She blew out a tight breath. “Is it that there was an alpaca there, and it tried to eat your shirt, too?” she replied, filling in the blank.
How many animals frightened her big, strong man?
“No, it didn’t try to eat my shirt,” he answered, fear lacing each word.
“Okay, then what?” she asked as the alpaca moved toward them, releasing another round of squealing pig meets screaming toddler shrieks.
“We need to run!” he cried, taking her hand and pulling her away from the agitated animal.
A bolt of lightning sliced through the sky as they dodged aspens with the alpaca in hot pursuit.
“Jordan, I’d bet all the vegan chocolate chip cookie dough in North America it’s only chasing us because we’re running. I don’t think alpacas are naturally aggressive,” she said, gasping to keep up.
“They can be aggressive,” he replied, pulling her along as he picked up speed.
Trying to keep up with Mr. CrossFit Super Runner, she searched her memory for any relevant alpaca knowledge. Were alpacas and llamas the same thing? Were llamas nice? Did it matter?
She released Jordan’s hand. “This is crazy! Stop running! I’m pretty sure alpacas are docile. I think I read something about them guarding chickens and sheep, and all Mrs. Gilbert’s friends knit with their wool.”
With rain trailing down his face, he shook his head. “We have to keep going! These are not ordinary animals! They’ve got giraffe necks, horse bodies with weird little puffy tails, and deceptively cute faces that look all sweet and innocent until…”
She wiped the rain from her cheeks. “Until what? You sound like you’ve lost your mind!”
Jordan stared over her shoulder. “Oh, shit!” he whispered.
She turned to see the alpaca with its head reared back. But, pissed off alpaca or not, she had no choice but to defuse the situation and save the man she loved from yet another animal phobia.
More than that—these animal antics had to end.
When they got home, she was going to make him write down the name of every creature he feared, big or small.
She reached toward the animal. “Hey, little guy! What are you doing out in the rain?”
She had to show Jordan this was just another one of his irrational animal fears.
“Georgie, don’t get any closer!” he cautioned.
“Mr. Alpaca is a sweetie,” she continued, not knowing if it was a boy or girl alpaca. But she was getting a strong guy vibe.
Jordan waved his hands. “He’s not sweet, babe. He’s about to…”
Before Jordan could finish, the little sweetie of an alpaca flung its wet head forward and opened its elongated, toothy mouth, as green phlegm spewed like the exorcist out of the animal. She turned her head away from the spray, stumbling back a few steps as the alpaca’s putrid spittle storm hit the side of her face.
“What the hell happened?” she screamed.
“They spit,” Jordan whisper-shouted.
Well, duh!
She touched her hair to find it sticky with alpaca saliva. “Why didn’t you tell me they spit?”
“I didn’t get a chance, and I figured you knew?” he answered.
“I don’t know anything about these animals. I’m not even sure if there’s a difference between a llama and an alpaca! How would I know they spit?” she yelled, growing more exasperated by the second.
He watched the alpaca warily. “Llamas spit, too. That’s what happened to me as a kid.”
“A llama spit at you?” she questioned, mentally adding llamas to the list of Jordan’s fears.
He cocked his head to the side as confusion marred his expression. “No, an alpaca spit at me. Why would you think it was a llama?”
This was insanity!
She backed away from the alpaca, who, after emptying the grossest contents of its stomach on her face, meandered away, seeming to have lost interest in her after sliming her with God knows what. Alpaca bile? Alpaca puke? Whatever the hell it was, it was absolutely disgusting.
“What are we doing?” she screamed up at the sky, stumbling forward.
“Georgie, let me try to wipe some of it off,” Jordan offered.
She stared at him, then took a step forward, but her other foot didn’t make it to the ground. Thanks to an exposed tree root, she was now lying on the forest floor, staring up at the pouring rain in a slick of mud.
Jordan bent over her. “Are you okay, babe?”
She blinked back the rain or tears or rainwater infused with her tears and animal bile. At this point, she couldn’t even guess how many substances were covering her body.
She extended her arms and legs like a kid making a muddy, deranged snow angel. “Do I look okay, Jordan? Do I look even remotely close to being considered okay?”
“I feel like this is another trick question,” he said gently.
She’d had it. This was it. She was done with this bullshit boot camp. Done with deer jerky. Done with Brice and Camille and Syd and Buck and shovels—so freaking done with shovels.
“I have fallen, and I can’t get up!” she screamed, which triggered the alpaca to scream, which then triggered her fiancé to cry out.
In the history of wilderness survival, never had there been a more pathetic display of outdoor survival skills.
Jordan collected himself, then offered her his hand. “I can help you up, Georgie. Come on. Let’s get to camp and make a fire. You’ll feel better after you warm up.”
Prostrate on the ground, she blinked back the rain.
“How are we going to make a fire? It’s raining cats and dogs, or llamas and alpacas,” she answered in a shrill scrape of a voice.
He watched her as one would observe a ticking time bomb. “We’ll get the tarp set up. Then we’ll use the bow drill and the dryer lint.”
“Where the hell are you going to get dryer lint?” she shot back.
Where’d he think they were? The appliance department of Home Depot?
“It was on the list. You were supposed to pack it,” he answered in a crisis negotiator tone.
The man wasn’t wrong, but she’d thought it was a typo.
“I didn’t pack any lint from the dryer,” she replied as Jordan’s features hardened.
“Then, what did you pack?”
She stared up at him. “Lemon verbena-scented dryer sheets.”
“Dryer sheets?” he echoed with a scrunched brow.
She nodded. “Yes, I told you. I brought lemon verbena-scented dryer sheets.”
He shook his head. “What’s verbena?”
“I don’t know, but they’re good for the earth, and they smell all lemony sweet,” she answered, getting a little tired of his know-it-all vibe.
“We use earth-friendly dryer sheets?” he questioned.
If she weren’t afraid o
f choking on rain infused with alpaca bile, she would have scoffed.
“Of course, we do! Do you think I’d purchase earth-unfriendly dryer sheets?”
“I’d never given it much thought,” he answered.
How sexist! Just because he was a man, it didn’t give him a license not to care about non-toxic laundry products.
Her trifecta perked up and nodded their support.
“Like it or not, this is what we’ve got. Two lemon verbena-scented dryer sheets,” she answered.
Jordan stared up at the angry sky. “Dammit, Georgie! That’s not going to work! Since we won’t be able to collect any dry tinder, we’ll need to use the dryer lint to get a flame going. Don’t you remember Buck and Syd’s bow drill lesson from today?”
She didn’t remember much of anything. The last three days had been more of a beauty queen meets Blair Witch montage.
“I remember watching you make the bow drill thingy for starting a fire, but I never thought we’d have to use it. I figured it was more of a souvenir,” she said, sitting up.
Jordan ran his hands through his sopping mass of hair. “A souvenir? Do you know how hard it was, whittling wood and scraping shallow holes into pine? And then, there’s the bowing. I’m in better shape than a gladiator, and it was still a hell of a lot of work to get it to start smoking.”
Moment of truth—she’d spaced out big time during the whole arts and crafts segment of the day.
“I’m sorry, Jordan. I didn’t know!” she said, throwing up her hands.
He paced back and forth. “You could have at least told me we were out here unprepared.”
This asshat!
She reared back. “Unprepared? I’m not the one losing my shit at the sight of an alpaca.”
“At least, I have the sense not to pet one,” he muttered.
Holy alpaca farm! The Secretary of Scat was on thin ice.
“I was trying to help you see it was a harmless creature,” she answered, trying to keep her voice even.
“But it wasn’t harmless, was it?” he answered, going all Mr. Gotcha.
She started to stand, and Jordan extended his hand to help her, but she swatted it away.
Own the Eights Gets Married Page 14