Chasing Stardust: A Novel By Erica Lucke Dean - 23

Modern Love

“Oh my God.” A moan of ecstasy rolls out of me as tingles work their way through every fiber of my being. “Where have you been all my life?”

Dash’s eyes sparkle in the firelight as he gapes at me, so distracted he doesn’t notice the ball of flame engulfing the marshmallow at the end of his outstretched stick. He clears his throat. “How have you never had s’mores before?”

With another toe-curling groan, I catch a glop of molten fluff and melted chocolate with my tongue as it oozes from between two graham crackers. “Clearly, I’ve been cheated and deprived my whole freaking life.”

Dash shifts his weight on the log and his thigh brushes mine. “That’s sad.”

“Tragic, really.” I stuff the last bite between my lips and lick the sticky residue from my fingers, one digit at a time.

He inhales sharply and chucks his burning stick into the fire, seconds before the flame reaches his hand. “You’re killing me, you know that?”

A laugh rolls up my throat, because I know. I totally know.

With a devilish grin of his own, Dash dips his head and leans in. “You, uh, missed some . . .” His sweet breath washes over me as he rasps his tongue from my chin to the corner of my mouth, sucking my lower lip between both of his before releasing me.

A violent shudder cuts through me.

He chuckles, bringing his lips to my ear. “Now who’s laughing?”

His dark whisper sends a prickle of heat rippling through my core.

“Not me.” My voice cracks, my insides melting like a flaming marshmallow on a stick. “Definitely not laughing.”

“Good.” He brushes loose tendrils of hair from my neck and kisses along the curve of my jaw, fanning the out-of-control flames raging within me and sending molten heat spreading down . . . down . . . down . “Because this isn’t funny.”

“Not . . . funny . . . at all.” I can barely breathe to get the words out.

Day-old stubble skims my cheek as he continues his sensual assault, his hot mouth moving to my exposed throat, kissing a blistering trail to my collarbone before nipping his way back to my ear.

Oh God.

Unable to think straight, I ball my hands at my sides, restlessly waiting for him to make his next move. He hooks a finger under my chin, tilting my head and dragging my gaze to his.

The crackle of the fire and the katydids singing in the trees fill the void as the silence between us stretches to the breaking point. Barely an inch separates us. All he has to do is lean forward to close the gap. All he has to do is kiss me.

He shifts again, resting his forehead against mine. The smoldering heat in his eyes challenges me to surrender. Begs me to give in. Little does he know how close I am to doing exactly that. Then he slips his fingers under my shirt, grazing my stomach as he inches his way toward the swell of my breasts. My nipples tighten with anticipation, and I let out a ragged breath.

Dash’s lips curve into a wicked grin. He has me right where he wants me, and he knows it.

A moan escapes me. “Now who’s trying to kill who?”

“ Killing you is the last thing on my mind right now.” He cups my face in his hands and closes the distance between us, capturing my eager mouth in a fiery kiss.

He tastes like toasted marshmallow and chocolate, and I don’t care that I’m basically re-creating a page out of my mom’s diary. Or that I’ve known him for only a handful of days. God help me, I’ve wanted him since the first moment he spoke to me in that greasy diner.

His thumb strokes my cheek as his warm tongue glides across mine, unleashing the wild beast inside me. Before I can stop myself, I tackle him to the ground, straddling his hips and pinning him to the forest floor.

Liquid heat floods my center as I settle over the hardness cradled between my thighs. Dash swells beneath me as he grips my hips and guides my movements.

“Oh God. Do that again,” I whisper, digging my fingers into his shoulders and grinding my pelvis against his, chasing the tingles wherever they lead.

His head falls back, and a low groan works its way up his throat. “ Fuuuck! ”

My thoughts exactly.

“What are we doing?” he mutters, bringing his lips back to mine. “You don’t really want our first time to happen on the cold hard ground, do you?”

I manage a breathy “no” but continue rocking my center against his growing erection. I know I should stop. He’s right. I’d much rather our first time happened in a comfy bed, but the insistent throb between my thighs demands attention, and I’m too far gone for regrets. I snake a hand between us, palming him through his jeans.

A deep shudder runs through him, and he groans. “Zoey, no.” His erection twitches as he wraps his fingers around my wrist and stills my hand. “Not here.”

His words wash over me like a bucket of cold water, and I jerk back.

“Don’t you dare,” he whispers before claiming my lips in another toe-curling kiss.

Every sweep of his tongue sends ribbons of heat dancing down my spine and my stomach plummeting. He weaves his fingers into the tangled lengths of my hair and angles my head for a deeper, almost feral, kiss, making my head swim from lack of oxygen.

Out of breath, he rests his forehead against mine. “I want you so damn bad, I can barely think straight.”

My lips part, my heart thundering in my ears. “Dash . . .”

“Just maybe not right here .” He plucks a sharp rock from under his lower back and chucks it into the trees. “We should . . .” His gaze darts to the tent.

That’s all the invitation I need. I jump from his lap and grab his hand. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Halfway to the tent, Mom’s voice whispers through my thoughts like a little angel perched on my shoulder, effectively kicking sand on the flames lashing my insides. Are you being safe, Zoey?

I slow my steps and let out a long sigh. Despite the fact that I’ve been on birth control since I was sixteen, she’s right. There’s no such thing as being too safe.

Dash tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, and I feel his touch everywhere. “Something wrong?”

“Um . . .” My cheeks heat as I fumble for the right words. “You were a Boy Scout, right?”

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Pretty sure none of my badges covered this.”

“That’s not what I—” A nervous laugh slips out. “What I mean is, you’re always prepared. Right? ”

As my meaning sinks in, his shoulders deflate. “Shit.”

“Is that a no?” Horrified, I gape at him. “You don’t have any . . . ?”

“No.” His eyes widen, and he flushes to his hairline. “I mean yes! I do. In the first aid kit. In the car.”

I exhale, equal parts relieved and confused. “I don’t want to know why you have condoms in your first aid kit.”

“Actually, they make excellent—”

I slap a palm over his mouth. “Don’t tell me. Just go get one.” Then I fist the front of his shirt and pull him in for a quick, but somewhat brutal, kiss. “Make that two! And hurry!”

Dash groans, adjusting himself as he backs away. “Be right back.” He winks, then turns and jogs toward the break in the trees.

The second he disappears into the shadows, I exhale into my hand to check my breath and catch a whiff of my armpits. My breath still smells like chocolate, but the rest of me reeks of sweat and swamp water. And Lord help me, there isn’t enough deodorant in the world to hide that.

With my heart rattling off the seconds, I crawl into the tent and snatch my tote, upending its contents onto the sleeping bag to search for the pack of wet wipes I tossed in there the other day.

Once I locate the only remaining wipe, I shove everything back into my bag and quickly get down to business. After stripping off my sweaty shirt and shorts, I unfold the wipe to its full size, pausing to glance at my flushed reflection in Mom’s shiny urn.

“Sorry, Mom. I can’t do this with you watching.” I march the urn out of the tent and rest it on a log a few yards away.

As soon as Mom’s ashes are safely out of the picture, I scrub the lone wipe across every sweaty inch of me before wadding up the tattered square and stashing it at the bottom of my tote. Then I give my dirty T-shirt a quick once-over before tossing it aside. If I’d known I would end up half naked, I would’ve worn something sexier than a plain white bralette and the bright-yellow Pikachu underwear I found at the bottom of my backpack. I don’t even remember packing them. But at least they’re clean. After going through everything else I’d packed— and Dash’s Superman boxers—I was out of options.

My stomach flutters as I glance toward the shadows. What’s taking him so long? He must be tearing his car apart, searching for a condom. If he doesn’t find one, this will all be for nothing. But if he does . . .

A thrill runs through me, and my bladder clenches. No, no, no! This cannot be happening! I’ve already peed my pants once on this trip, I’ll be damned if I let it happen again!

With a groan, I crawl out of the tent and stare at the tree line in the distance. There’s no way I’m walking into the dark woods alone . And I’m sure as hell not going out in the open and have Dash catch me squatting against a tree. Talk about a mood killer. What I wouldn’t give for indoor plumbing right about now.

Indoor plumbing?

The thought, combined with a flash of red in my peripheral vision, gives me a brilliant idea. I grab Dash’s discarded plastic cup and crawl into the tent.

No sooner is my bladder empty than the sound of someone rustling around our campsite steals my attention.

“Don’t laugh, but . . .” Balancing the full cup in one hand, I wriggle my undies up and over my hips with the other. “I had to pee . . .”

Swallowing a nervous giggle, I poke my head out of the tent.

In the half second it takes my eyes to adjust to the darkness, I realize it isn’t Dash’s sexy smirk waiting for me. Instead, a huge black bear lurks less than a yard from where I left my mom’s ashes, grazing on chocolate bars and graham crackers. The animal raises its massive head, his fathomless eyes staring a hole through me.

A scream catches in my throat, the strangled sound becoming lost in the deafening buzz of the katydids in the trees.

Still gripping the red plastic cup in my trembling hand, I eye the urn just beyond the bear’s reach, calculating my odds of beating him to it.

“Go on!” Heart racing, I attempt to shoo him away with my free hand. “Get out of here!”

The bear ignores me and ambles toward Mom’s ashes.

Screwing up what little courage I can muster, I stab a finger in his direction. “Listen, Yogi! You lay one damn paw on that urn and, PETA be damned, I’ll make a rug out of you!”

He chuffs, my empty threats doing nothing to deter him as he sniffs the shiny metal.

Mumbling obscenities under my breath, I scramble for anything I can use as a weapon. Where the hell are those bolt cutters when I need them?

The bear nudges Mom’s urn with his snout, keeping his gaze locked on his own reflection as he rolls it forward, like a cat mesmerized by a laser pointer.

A spike of fear stabs my gut and, using the only weapon in my arsenal, I attack. Aiming for his head, I lob the red plastic cup like a Molotov cocktail, holding my breath until it hits the beast square in the muzzle with a splatter. The animal startles, flinching as if I’d pepper sprayed him.

“Take that, Yogi!” I shriek at the bear’s retreating form.

Looks like Dash isn’t the only resourceful one on this trip. I dart my gaze around the empty clearing. I finally get the chance to restore my tarnished dignity and show off a little ingenuity in the process, and there isn’t a single soul around to witness my triumph. Figures.