More than Distance

36

We broke apart and I got as much mud in the pot as I could, then we began again. This time when she reached my platform, her foot slipped in all the mud and she nearly fell. I caught her easily, drawing her into my arms, and we locked eyes. She took my slick face in her hands, her mouth so close to mine I could feel her breath on my lips. As she pressed her body against me, her soft curves meeting my hard ridges, all I could think about was how I wanted to wrap her legs around me and have my way with her right then and there, even with this mud all over us.

By some act of god, I managed to restrain myself, despite her heavy breathing and the look in her eyes like she was hungry for something only I could give her. I pulled away and scrambled to the last platform, then scraped off enough mud to completely fill the pot. The horn sounded and we were finished. Thank god.

We climbed off the obstacle course and were sent to the outdoor showers they’d set up. I wasn’t sure where the other teams were, but we were alone when we stepped into the wet, muddy shower area. I switched the water on and stood under the spray.

Carla moved under the shower next to me and let water run down her body. I watched as she lifted her mass of curls to wash away the mud. Water poured down her graceful neck and shoulders and between her plump breasts. She turned and I got a view of her perfect ass, barely concealed by those tiny yellow bottoms.

Christ. This shower was not nearly cold enough.

She turned around again and caught me watching her. Her eyes did a slow perusal from my mouth to my chest to my shorts. Her expression was downright filthy, her body shiny, slick, and wet. One hand slid across her breast, over her bikini top, taunting me. I was this close to saying f**k it and crossing the distance between us, when she switched off the shower, grabbed a towel, and walked away.

I watched her go and took long, even breaths. That was the most erotic shower of my entire life and we hadn’t even touched.

Oh yeah. I was screwed.

Thirteen

Carla

We were declared fifth when we reached the final location of today’s journey, a campground in Bluewater Lake State Park, shortly past the border into New Mexico. I could have rubbed it in Ryan’s face that he’d lost the bet and we would be going with my plans from now on, but I kept quiet. We would have been even farther behind if it wasn’t for his idea to skip the first location. The only reason we’d lost time was because I’d been locked in a gas station shed by Brenda and Ron, who I’d now dubbed the Blond Menace.

It was getting cold at the campground now that the sun was touching the horizon, but the sight of scraggly trees and the glistening dark lake was a relief after two days of endless, barren desert. A bonfire raged nearby, along with a barbeque and some picnic tables. Beyond that, eight tents were set up for the teams to sleep in. The crew told us not to leave the camp area and advised us to pick a tent, get some food at the barbeque, and relax for the evening. We’d be setting off early again the next morning.

Ryan and I shuffled across the dusty ground until we found an empty tent and left our stuff in it. He stretched his arms and his back while my eyes lingered on him. We’d changed back into our regular clothes and he wore a soft gray t-shirt that hugged every muscle. I wanted to tear it off him with my teeth. His eyes landed on me, and I quickly checked out everything but him. How did he always catch me looking at him?

As we headed to the bonfire, Brenda stuck her head out of another tent, a much larger and nicer one. “So sorry about earlier! We had to make sure we won the challenge—which we did. No hard feelings, right?” She laughed and disappeared back into the tent before I could answer.

I stomped across the dirt. “I hate them.”

Ryan easily kept pace with my angry strides. “You don’t hate anyone. Except me, perhaps.”

“I don’t hate you.” We got in line for food behind one of the other couples. “We should prank them tonight. Put rocks in their shoes. Steal their clothes while they’re showering. Sneak into their tents and draw moustaches on their faces.”

“Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

I sighed, the anger already leaving me. “You know I would never actually do any of those things.” The people in front of us turned around, the lesbian bikers who always wore leather jackets covered in metal. They were probably in their sixties at least and complete opposites: one was tall and wide with short white hair, the other was short and thin with long black hair.

“Who are you plotting against?” the white-haired one asked.

“Oh, um.” My cheeks warmed. “Do you know Brenda and Ron?”

“Unfortunately,” the other one said.

Ryan placed a protective hand on my lower back. “They locked Carla in a gas station today.” “They did what?” the first one asked, putting a hand on her hip.

I told them the whole story while we got our food and sat down at a nearby picnic table to eat. Ryan gave me the side-eye the entire time, but kept his mouth shut. Even so, I could feel him mentally telling me to be careful about what I said. I mentally told him to zip it.