“Shhh. Be still. Do you hear that?” Shannon yanked me against his chest. I was too surprised to do anything but dangle there until he led me into the thicket by the hand. He pulled me behind him close enough that my groin snuggled his ass with every step.

Except for the backpacks knocking me in the face and the blood on my hands…in any other circumstance, this would have been a dream come true.

Oh, fuck it. This was a dream come true. We were reenacting a moment straight from one of my favorite porno flicks: Boys & Bears.

Yes. This was absolutely the worst time to think about sex, but his calloused fingers gripped my wrist, and he dragged me into the underbrush and holy shit, his firm ass wiggled against my firming crotch. I got hard—I wasn’t proud of it. My dick stiffened like a good not-so-little soldier as his hips kissed my groin, and once we stopped, his lips brushed my ear. “Shhh.”

Torture. Absolute fucking torture.

I closed my eyes and stifled a moan. In that movie, the big guy, Duke, had fucked his little camping buddy against a sturdy tree trunk while owls hooted and coyotes howled in the distance. Naturally, they’d remembered to bring lube and condoms, and through good lighting and amazing balance they’d shucked their clothes (except somehow they’d left their boots on) and screwed as furiously as animals against the rough bark of a towering oak. Or maple. And no one had gotten a splinter in the ass.

Even so, I had tweezers…

But that wasn’t on the program for this evening—so I got a grip.

We had a minor skirmish over who was shielding who. We could have alerted the mayor two towns north of there with the ruckus we made getting ourselves hidden behind our own sturdy tree trunk, until Shannon finally wriggled behind me, and his crotch ground into my ass. He clapped on to my biceps with his strong hands. “Stay put, Allie.”

How could he be oblivious to the sexual nature of our position? I mean, really? He was on top of me, holding me, and speaking in that rumbly voice. The way he said my name…Allie…it was like sex talk. It was all I could do not to slide my hands around his hips and drag him against me.

Our bags lay in the dirt, and I focused on staying alert and useful instead of being mind-blowingly turned on. The minutes slogged by, but the night sounds were a great distraction. Chirps, ticks, snaps, and crackles. Wild animals. Wings. The wind blew endlessly through the treetops, and pinecones landed in the dirt like shrapnel. Shannon’s breath waxed and waned, fluttering into my hair. My heart beat…heartily…and his chest pressed the full length of my back.

Frankly, he was a little closer than he needed to be.

There was movement to our left—down along the Furnace Brook trail. Someone was climbing the hill. I could feel a presence way before the sound of moving feet reached my ears. Shannon whispered into my neck, and his lips touched my skin. “Don’t move.”

As if I would ever.

Seconds later a man rounded the bend and loped along the path. Shannon’s palm moved to the center of my chest, making this the second time tonight he tried to protect me. He hugged me into his body, and with a shake of his head, my heart leaped and pumped every last drop of blood straight to my crotch.

I held my breath, and Shannon held his too. His big hand didn’t move as he wrapped himself around me, and the smell of beer and pine flooded my nose.

Danger passed in a blur of feet and broad shoulders. A man raced the length of the unlit trail without a stumble or catch. He paused at the fork to take his bearings.

At least that’s how it appeared from here. I was certain of one thing—it wasn’t Ricky. Ricky had an Irish ’fro—thick, black, white-boy curls. Ricky stood taller than me, but he wasn’t as large as either Shannon or this mysterious figure. Ricky was slim and slumpy—a nutty geologist. This was a grown man standing at the crossroad, determining his path.

Shannon’s fingers dug into me. Still. Be still. I could almost hear his thoughts. Don’t fuck this up, Allie.

The figure moved; his footsteps crunched through gravel before he vanished into the bleak shadows of Dudleytown Road.

Minutes ticked by, and neither of us moved. Clearly, I inspired as much carnal interest in Shannon as a wet dishtowel, but I wished to hell I could say the same for myself. The scent of his skin flustered me. The feel of his hair flustered me. His hand on my chest…it fucking flustered me.

And the more flustered I felt, the angrier I became. “Would you mind letting go of me?”

“No. You’ll bolt. Just be still while we think.”

“Are you mental? Fuck you. Get off me.” I twisted from his grip before he could notice my boner, grabbed my bag, and slung it on. “Neither of us thinks Ricky’s down this hill. If he was, that guy would have seen him, so let’s move. He didn’t backtrack, that’s not how he operates. He must have thought he could cheat through Dudley and make it back home the easy way.”

“Okay. So we follow him.” Shannon nodded, shouldered the bags, and said for the second time, “Let’s get O’Leary and get the fuck out of here.”