KATHERINE

We ran first to where Elliot had left part of his clothes—he needed to change.

“Damn mosquitoes,” he muttered, scratching all over, his skin glistening with sweat and the water dripping from his hair.

But now he was also covered in scratches from the branches and bug bites.

He bent down to put on his pants, giving me an unfiltered view of his rock-hard ass, completely unbothered.

I couldn’t help myself—this whole crazy situation had made me lose a screw.

I stepped closer and, before I could even think about what I was doing, I gave his ass a firm slap, even daring to grope it a little.

Then I froze, yanking my hand back awkwardly. I mean, how much familiarity did I think I had with Elliot to act like that?!

“There was—there was a mosquito. I just wanted to help,” I stammered, avoiding his questioning gaze as he turned around, his pants still halfway down his thighs as he yanked them up.

“Uh-huh, a mosquito, sure,” he said, his amused tone unmistakable.

I looked away, claspin