He yanked his mouth off mine, shoved it to my neck and as his hot seed expelled onto my stomach, all over my hand, the sting of his teeth hit the side of my throat.
His groan was guttural as if I’d pulled it deep from his core and rattled the van. “Shit,” he rasped against my heated flesh. “You are fucking good at that.”
I couldn’t believe we’d just made each other come again, and so quickly.
But hell if I couldn’t wait until we could do it again.
And again.
And again.
Eventually, we climbed off the floor, both of us stretching our backs and limbs. We cleaned up the mess we made all over the floor, figured out how to get the couches turned into the bed.
While Joey went outside to set up the hook-ups, I stayed in and made the bed, straightening the sheets and blankets we’d already laid on and made us a quick meat and cheese board for a snack.
There were plenty of hours of daylight left, so after we ate, we dug out the camping chairs and set them up outside near the fire pit and Joey dug out the hiking clothes he’d had delivered for us.
“I hope this all fits you,” he said, as I opened the box of hiking boots. I’d given him my sizes for everything.
“I hope so too.” I laced them while he took care of his, filled his small hiking pack with waters for us, sunscreen, and other essentials.
“Perfect.” I wiggled my boots back and forth.
“Yeah.” His tone made me look up and once our eyes met, I realized he wasn’t looking—or caring—about the boots. His entire focus was on me.
“We should go,” I said, but it came out breathy.
“Before I toss you over my shoulder and take you again, yeah, we absolutely should.”
He grinned then and held out his hand. “Let’s go see what kind of fun we can have together, Gabby.”
A challenge I’d have no problem completing.
We walked through the campground, rowdier and busier than it’d been when we pulled in a couple hours ago. The sun was brutal, the heat almost unbearable, but I forced myself not to complain.
We had days of this heat, and thankfully, it would only reach the midnineties this week.
Somehow reading my mind with his superpowers, Joey glanced down at me. I was unable to see his eyes behind the sunglasses he’d thrown on and the Vipers hat he had pulled low on his forehead. “Our group hike starts at seven tomorrow morning. Hopefully we’ll get through most of it before it’s this painful outside.”
I squeezed his hand and nodded. “I was just thinking the same thing. It’s so damn hot right now.”
“Shade will help.”
He wasn’t wrong. We found an entrance to hiking trails right off the campground and chose the three-mile “easy” trail.
As soon as we were hidden in trees and walls of red rock, the light breeze we’d had earlier picked up, cooling me even as I heated from the inside out. Most of it, solely true to Joey’s presence next to me.
“Tell me something about you.” He’d picked up a walking stick discarded on the path once we started and then found one for me. The clunk of the stick on the dirt path and the crunch of dirt beneath our feet were the only sounds.
“What kind of things?”
“I don’t know. Anything. Favorite movie. Foods. What do you do after work? Do you like what you do?”
He rattled off the questions quickly, and it took me a minute to realize he’d been nervous in asking.
A laugh bubbled in my throat and burst free.
“What? Why are you laughing?”
I covered my mouth, still giggling and shook my head. “It’s nothing. It’s just… I just had sex with my husband for the first time and you don’t even know those things about me. And we’re married.”
I stumbled over the words, my laughter getting the better of me until I was roaring with glee.
How in the hell did I get myself in these situations? Not that I regretted it. Not yet, anyway.
Joey laughed with me and nodded before his smile turned softer. “I like hearing you call me husband.”
Oh. Oh. I’d meant it as a joke, but he was no longer joking.
I cleared my throat and focused on the trail. Ahead of us was a group of six, but we were far enough back they couldn’t hear us.
“Let’s see.” I recalled all the questions he’d asked. “Mean Girls is a classic. I’m a huge pasta lover. Give me all the carbs, all the time. Usually I zone out to something on Netflix with a glass of wine while I do laundry and clean. And I love what I do for a living.”
“Mean Girls?”
“It’s the most iconic girl’s movie of all time. Are you telling me you’ve never seen it?”
“Considering I’m not a girl—”
“I’m teasing. But it’s good. And funny. It came out when I was young, like first grade or something. I was probably too young to watch it, but I’ve loved it ever since.”
“And pasta?”
“I can eat it every day, it’s only better when it’s pasta stuffed with cheese like manicotti or ravioli. Tortellini soup…” I trailed off, my stomach rumbled. Just thinking about my pasta made my mouth water.
“Chicken parmesan is my favorite meal.”
“Yeah?”
“My mom made the best food. Did you know she’s Italian?”
I hadn’t. Although his coloring would have made me suspect even if his brothers were blond. They’d gotten their looks from their dad, but it was clear Joey favored Sonya.
“No.”
“Her great-grandparents immigrated here from Sicily in the early 1900s. They opened and owned a tiny restaurant in Little Italy when it was filled with Italian immigrants.”
“That’s… that’s incredible. Is their restaurant still there?”
He shook his head and gestured at a sign for a lookout point. We headed that way, staying in one line as hikers leaving passed us on the narrow trail. Once we reached it, my mouth dropped.
The heat no longer bothered me.
All my worries about where I was going with my life vanished.
“Holy shit,” I breathed. We were at a higher elevation and beyond and beneath us, as far as the eye could see were budding red rock walls and landscape, filled with valleys. It went off into the distance, until the red stone met blinding blue sky.
“Damn,” Joey whispered next to me. So quiet, as if speaking would shatter the enormous glory in front of us.
The group of six that had been in front of us were there too, all of us whispering if bothering to speak at all. Tears pricked my eyes.
“You okay?” Joey asked, slipping an arm behind my back and settling at my waist on the other side of him.
“Yeah.” I rested my head against his shoulder. “It’s overwhelming and so beautiful.”
We stood there for several minutes, until we grew restless from standing still and the glaring sun had sweat dripping down my spine.
Once we were back on the trail, alone, Joey answered my earlier question. “My family’s restaurant is still there, however, my grandparents sold it in the early sixties, so it has a new name and everything. But my great-great-grandparents’ picture is still on the wall above the bar. My older brother John and his wife, Kara, go there occasionally especially when her family comes to town. They love to do all the touristy stuff which is what Little Italy is now.”