Gin Fling (Bootleg Springs, #5)(57)

I had welts.

I took the downhill, intending to be cautious—bumblebees and all, of course—but the speed, the wind that cooled my skin, made me brave.

I let out a whoop of joy and hinged over the handlebars.

Jonah shot a look over his shoulder and grinned at me. Together we raced down the winding hill.

Enjoying the view that unfurled in front of me. Forest, thick and green, rolled out on both sides of the ribbon of asphalt. I caught a glimpse of lake off to the left, saw Bootleg’s church steeple in the valley below. Dark clouds crowded in on the blue sky in front of us.

And between me and the clouds was Jonah. He rode in perfect form. His calves bunched, biceps flexed. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he was smiling.

A doer, an adventurer in search of fun. And that’s what he wanted to share with his clients, I realized. I wasn’t hunched over a pile of research pecking away at the keyboard on a beautiful summer day. No, I was flying with the sun on my face and wind lifting my ponytail.

The road curved gently away from the lake, taking us deeper into the forest. We slowed as valley turned back to hill.

“Having fun?” he asked, slowing down so I could ease up alongside him.

“I was just thinking this was a more enjoyable way to spend a day than sitting in front of my laptop,” I confessed.

“Not too shabby.” He grinned. “Water break?”

I nodded. I was not comfortable enough on these roads to reach down and make a grab for my water bottle. That maneuver was above my current skill level. I wondered if I could get one of those beer helmets they sold at Build A Shine for the triathlon and fill it with water.

We pulled off the road at a trailhead that led up, up, up the mountain we’d skirted.

“Rain’s coming in,” he observed before taking a deep drink.

Lord, he was glorious. Sweaty was a good look on Jonah Bodine. His athletic frame warmed by exercise was a sight to be appreciated, swooned over. He wore a short-sleeved training jersey that fit him like skin and bike shorts that highlighted a particular piece of anatomy that I was trying not to stare at.

“Think we’ll make it home before that?” I asked, again tearing my gaze away from his crotch.

“Still two miles out. How fast can you peddle?” he teased.

A fat raindrop fell from the sky and landed on my chest. “Uh-oh.”

And with that, the West Virginia skies opened up on us.

“Let’s go further in,” he yelled over the slow roll of thunder. He gestured up the trail.

We pushed our bikes into the trees and away from the road. He found a copse of hemlock trees that formed a low leaky canopy. I crawled in behind him.

“Homey,” I said, sitting down on a cushion of lost needles and other forest floor debris.

I unclipped my helmet and pulled my hair free from its low tail. I shook it out, fluffed my bangs. Just because I was stuck in a rainstorm in the middle of a forest didn’t mean I shouldn’t make a small effort with my appearance.

I was, after all, on schedule to seduce the man tonight.

Shower, leg shaving, unscented lotion so I’d be super soft to the touch. Makeup light enough to look like I wasn’t wearing any. And a cute outfit. Not lingerie. Lingerie brought with it expectations. Fun shorts and a daringly low-cut tank would be friendlier, sneakier, Scarlett had assured me.

They were expecting a full report tomorrow. Well, June wasn’t. And Scarlett probably didn’t want any details seeing as how Jonah was her brother and all. But I was still looking forward to this grand experiment.

I was tired of doing nothing but sleeping in his bed. We had chemistry on our side. And judging from the morning wood Jonah sported this morning we had biology, too. It was time to initiate a reaction.

The rain was slower under the trees, but it was still soaking. My white tank clung to the psychedelic sports bra underneath, and my nipples hardened to points.

“Shelby?” His voice was strained.

“What? Oh my god. Do you see a bear?” I whispered, scanning the forest beyond our bikes.

Getting mauled would seriously hinder the seduction experiment tonight.

Not spotting any forest monsters, I looked at him and noticed he was looking at me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He shook his head, smiling wryly. “Nothing’s wrong. No bears. I just thought now would be a good time to kiss you.”

Another roll of thunder rumbled. This one I felt in my bones as Jonah’s mouth, wet and firm, found mine.

There was an urgency here.

A beautiful, painful urgency. And if he was going to back off again or we were going to be interrupted by—God, please not a bear—I was going to develop the equivalent of lady blue balls. I wanted him so keenly it hurt. The ache between my legs went deeper than just flesh and muscle. It was visceral.

I wanted Jonah to know he was wanted. To let me remind him what that felt like.

Nerds interested in sociology and biology and motivation turned out to be rather excellent lovers. I prided myself on being good at sex.

As if reading my mind, he dragged me to him, spreading my legs so I straddled him, his back braced against a tree trunk.

His erection, that biological miracle of blood flow and arousal, nestled between my legs causing the breath to catch in my throat. He felt ready. But I needed to know. Needed to hear the words.

“Jonah,” I said, dragging my lips from his.