Spencer's hand is firm around mine as we scramble through the trees. The noises of the campground fade away into nothing.
Though we're both eager to get away and be alone, we are even more eager to get our hands on each other, slowing our progress as we stop to make against trees and rocks.
At one such spot, as Spencer's mouth sucks at a spot below my ear, one hand slides between my legs.
There's still two layers of fabric between his fingers and where I want them to be, but I have to bite my lip against the sound that tries to escape my throat.
As much as I want to stay, I manage to pull away. "Spence," I say. "The quicker we get to wherever you're taking me..."
"Suddenly, location doesn't seem as important," he murmurs, leaning in again.
I roll my eyes and grab his hand to pull him onward. "Not against a tree," I tell him.
In a few minutes we're there, a secluded shady spot by the river, a large flat rock covered in a picnic blanket.
I nearly laugh when I see that Spencer, who just wanted to get it on against a tree, has provided pillows as well.
He flops down and lounges on his side. "Is this satisfactory, madame?"
I sit primly beside him and give him a peck on the cheek. "Very much so, monsieur."
Spencer pulls me onto his lap and unclasps my bra through my shirt with expert fingers. I slip it off under my shirt and he tosses it dramatically to the side, making me laugh.
He kisses me, languidly and thoroughly, laying back as I lean over him, straddling his hips.
My long hair comes down like a sheet around our faces and it's Spencer's turn to laugh as I pull back to frown at it and try to pull it back and out of our way.
He has a much simpler solution and flips us over, making sure to rearrange the pillows so I'm comfortable.
His weight on me is perfect and I hook a leg around his thigh to pull him even closer. My lingering worry of getting caught fades away by the second as his hands and mouth distract me.
We remove every barrier between us as quickly as we can. And while it's not like we didn't go skinny dipping two days ago after our families were asleep, it's different now in broad daylight.
He traces the tanline from my swimsuit with his finger, then with his mouth, then further down, down, down.
I make no effort to quiet myself now, abandoning all shyness and embarrassment and letting any sound my throat makes barrel past my lips.
With the sounds came words, gasped, murmured, crooned. 'Oh my god,' and, 'Fucking there,' and lines I must've read in a paperback shirtless-guy-on-the-cover kind of book.
But then Spencer comes out with "I want to kiss every inch of your skin until I can taste you in my dreams," rumbled low against my thigh. And if I wasn't already lying down, I soon would be.
It's a perfect ending to our little summer tryst, as both of our families are leaving the campground for home in the morning. We lay together, content and quiet.
The wind whispers through the trees and water laps gently on the rocky shore. Maybe we'll go swimming and let the sun dry our naked bodies.
Maybe I'll slide on top of him and he'll look up and watch me come undone with his hands on my hips.
Or maybe we'll just keep laying here.
The warm afternoon stretches on with endless possibilities.