The Truth

“I think we can leave out the booty part. Telling people we’re together is one thing. Telling them what we do is quite another. That part is just for us.” My voice goes dark and husky, and I press a kiss to her neck.

“Mmm. I like that.”

“Me too. I want to stay here like this forever. I feel like I’ve been hibernating for decades and have finally woken up to find that the world is colorful and bright and full of amazing opportunities. I want to experience them all with you. Your light, your heart, your attitude.”

“Wow,” she breathes, and then she’s kissing me.

Her lips taste like chicken, sweet tea, and the future. I want to fall into that, into her, and stay there, letting the rest of the world drift away. I lick along the seam of her mouth, and she yields, opening for me. Our tongues tangle together, ramping up our passion.

With every breath and press of our lips, Tiffany is muttering, “Sweetest . . . strongest . . . love you . . . heart . . .”

I’m not sure exactly what she’s saying, but I understand her anyway. “Me too, Tiff.” I press her back to the blanket, lying beside her to cover her mouth once more.

I dip below her sweater, tracing up her side with a delicate touch to find her breast. I cup the soft mound, kneading her flesh and rubbing my thumb over the hard peak of her nipple.

“Tell me what you want,” I growl.

Tiffany pants, blinking to focus her eyes. “The truth?”

I dip my chin, giving her a hard stare. “Always. I want you to always tell me the truth.”

She smirks, already well aware of that. “I want you to fuck me, hard and rough, right here on the ground, with nothing and no one but the stars to see. I want our shouts of ecstasy to fill the whole valley because that’s what I feel in my heart for you . . . that and so much more.”

Despite her sweet words at the end, her hips are bucking, searching for me to fill her.

“Fuck, Tiffany, you sure? Here?”

I’m not an exhibitionist. In fact, I prefer to do my lovemaking and fucking in private. But if she wants me now, she’ll get me now. I’ll do anything for Tiffany. And part of what I like is that she pushes me out of my comfort zone.

She reaches for the hem of her sweater, preparing to pull it off when something catches my eye. Another light, this one bouncing left to right in a crisscross pattern.

“Fuck,” I hiss.

“I’m trying to,” Tiffany teases.

“No, there’s someone coming.”

That gets her attention, and she drops her sweater to sit up. “Should we hide?”

“I’m the CEO of the company. I could be out here doing naked moonlight yoga and it’d be my right to do so. I’m not hiding because I’m having a picnic dinner with my girlfriend.”

She covers her open mouth with clenched fists, silently screaming in joy. “I’m Daniel Stryker’s girlfriend!”

I chuckle at her excitement over a label that feels infinitely small compared to what I feel for her.

“Who’s there?” a voice shouts, and I recognize that it’s Mac.

“Game time, Tiff. You sure about this?” She nods, her eyes wide and watching me. Louder, I call out, “It’s me, Mac. Daniel.”

“Oh, Mr. Stryker, you scared the bejesus outta me. I thought you were upstairs working. Heard you had some drama today. Sorry I missed—” He’s been getting closer with every word, and Tiffany and I are sitting on the blanket, ready for him.

“Uh, Miss Young? Tiffany? What’re you doing here . . . oh, shit! Shit, sorry, guys!” He’s reversed course, backing up.

I hold up a hand. “Mac, it’s okay. Tiff brought me dinner, and we’re having a picnic because like you said, today was rough.”

Tiffany waves. “Hey, Mac. Pretty night, huh?”

He stammers, “Yeah, uh, pretty.” He looks back and forth from me to Tiffany, all the pieces falling into place, and his face goes professionally blank. “Sorry for interrupting. If you two are going to have a picnic” —he does air quotes with his fingers despite there being two boxes of fried chicken sitting right there— “give me a heads up. There are cameras aimed out here, but they’re not very good. More for coyotes than anything else. I can shut them off, though.”

It’s a kind offer but one I won’t take him up on. No, I plan to take Tiffany in a bed, against the door, over the couch, on the kitchen counter . . . anywhere but outside where we might get caught.

“We will, Mac,” I assure him. Part of me wants to ask him to keep this to himself, but I know that’s pretty much the fastest way to ensure that everyone knows. “We’ll make sure to check in with you before we go.”