"It's amazing," she says, releasing my hand to turn in a circle, her head tipped back. "Thank you for bringing me here, Richard."
"Can I convince you to call me Rick? I've already said you can."
"Okay, I will. Rick." She licks her lips, then runs her tongue along the bottoms of her top teeth. "I like the way that slides over my tongue. It's always been one of my favorite names because it's so damn sexy. Rick. Mm, I could say that all day and all night. Rick."
She turns the solitary syllable into a throaty, erotic tease.
All I can do is stare at her. I've never met a doctor who behaves the way she does.
"Gotta say that again," she announces. "Ri—"
I silence her with two fingers on her lips. "Don't say my name like that again unless you want me to do things to you that will disturb the local wildlife."
She laughs, though my fingers muffle it, and mumbles something.
I remove my fingers. "Sorry, I couldn't understand that."
"What I said was that it would be worth triggering a stampede of wildlife if you're making me scream for the right reasons." She presses her body against me, her mouth a hair's breadth from my lips. "Being around you turns me into a nymphomaniac."
"Whatever the male version of a nymphomaniac is, you're turning me into that."
The clothes she's wearing ensure that I desperately want to shag her. She changed while I was getting what I needed from my room, and now she's wearing a flower-pattern bikini top with shorts that barely cover her arse and a sky blue blouse that hangs open. Her walking shoes are sky blue to match her shirt. In that outfit, she looks so entirely fuckable that I can't think about anything except all the ways I plan to make her scream my name just like she suggested.
But not out here. She deserves a soft mattress under her, not dirt and weeds that will get stuck in places no one wants them.
Though I stop myself from undressing her, I can't prevent my lips from finding hers or my tongue from thrusting inside her mouth. She tastes faintly of caramel cupcakes, but when I plunge deeper, all I taste is her—a flavor I can't describe because no words in any language will suffice. She slides her tongue around mine and moans, the sound rife with intense pleasure and hunger.
I could kiss her all day.
She writhes against me, her body rubbing on my cock. "Let's go for a dip in the waterfall."
"That sounds wonderful, but I didn't bring my swimsuit."
"You can swim in your underwear." She tugs the waistband of my trousers and peeks inside them. Head down, she glances up at me. "You seem to have forgotten your pants, Rick."
I think she enjoys calling me Rick strictly because she knows how randy I get when she speaks my name in that seductive tone. "I avoid wearing pants as much as possible. They're bloody annoying. By the way, I love that you're using the British word."
"Just showing a little respect for your culture. Though I think other words are sexier—like briefs or boxers."
"Maybe I prefer thongs."
She skates her hands up my chest, shaking her head. "Men who wear polo shirts don't buy underwear that's made for gigolos."
"But women who are epidemiologists do wear string bikinis."
"Guess you think being a medical researcher means I should be an uptight geek who wears duct-taped eyeglasses."
"I've never met a medical researcher before, so you're the only example I have." I palm her arse with both hands. "Please forgive me. What can I do to make up for that egregious insult?"
"Feed me cupcakes."
Well, at least we both use the same word for those.
I spread the blanket out on the ground beside the satchel and bring out the food and water bottles. "Sit down, please."
She does that, but then stretches out on the blanket on her back.
"That's not sitting, Maddie. Or do Americans have a different word for that?"