Chapter 1: The Wrong Toolbelt
The attic was a sunbaked tomb. Half-unrolled drywall leaned against the rafters like sleeping ghosts, and tufts of pink insulation spilled from gaps in the framing. The air was thick, a solid thing to breathe, heavy with the scent of sawdust and old wood and the salty tang of sweat. Through the lone, grimy window, the cicadas’ relentless hum vibrated in the teeth, drowning out all other sound.
Nikki wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist, leaving a faint smudge of dust. “I swear, Derek, this level has to be lying.” Her voice, sweet and syrupy with a Georgia drawl, cut through the muffled heat.
“It’s not the level,” Derek said, his voice closer than she expected.
She felt him step in behind her, a shift in the air before the heat of his body reached her back. She was bent over, rifling through the toolbox, the fabric of her damp tank top pulling tight across her chest. His breath was hot on the nape of her neck as he reached past her shoulder, his tanned arm brushing hers. He wasn’t reaching for a tool. His own belt was right on his hip.
His front pressed lightly against the curve of her ass, and there was a firm, unmistakable pressure there. He lingered for a second, two, then slowly straightened up, a hammer suddenly in his hand she hadn’t seen him grab.
Nikki straightened up too, turning with a cheerful, unguarded smile. “Oh! Sorry, was I in your way?”
“Not at all,” Derek said, that familiar, charming smirk playing on his lips. His eyes, a cool slate blue, held hers just a beat too long. “Just grabbing Old Reliable here.”
“Well, thanks for not just shoving me over,” she laughed, the sound light and breezy. She pushed a strand of dark hair from her cheek, completely oblivious. “I’d have gone right through the ceiling. Jake would’ve killed me.”
Derek’s smirk deepened at the mention of her boyfriend. “Jake worries too much.” He turned the hammer over in his hands. “Speaking of, you guys good? Seemed a little tense this morning.”
Her smile faltered, just for a flash. That morning had been a murmur of harsh words by the coffee pot, a closed-off posture she wasn’t used to.
“It’s just a team hike, Jake. A fun little relaxation day to bond,” she’d insisted, her voice rising slightly over the percolator’s gurgle.
Jake had stared into his mug, his knuckles white. “A ‘special trip’ into the jungle. Just Derek and his ‘selected group’. Come on, Nik. You see how he looks at you.”
“He’s the group leader! He’s nice to everyone. You’re just being jealous for no reason.”
“He’s nice to you. There’s a difference. I don’t trust his vibe.”
“Well, I do,” she’d said firmly, her trusting nature solid as a wall. “He’s just a nice guy trying to make the project fun. You should try it sometime.”
The memory tightened her throat. Now, in the attic, she shrugged at Derek. “We’re fine. Just… hot and tired, you know? This heat makes everybody grumpy.”
“Tell me about it,” Derek said, rolling his shoulders. “Which is why today’s little excursion is gonna be perfect. Cool off, reset.”
The jungle swallowed the trail whole. The air here was wetter, heavier, a green blanket that muffled their footsteps and amplified every drip and rustle. After two hours of hiking up an increasingly steep and slippery path, Nikki was drenched. Her thin t-shirt and shorts were plastered to her skin, her hair a damp knot at the base of her neck.
The roar announced the waterfall before they saw it. It emerged through a curtain of ferns and vine-wrapped trees: a cascade of white water frothing down a mossy rock face into a crystal-clear pool that looked like paradise itself.
A collective groan of relief went up from the small group—six of them, including Derek.
“Okay, team,” Derek announced, his voice energetic. He pulled his sweat-soaked shirt over his head in one smooth motion, revealing a lean, sculpted torso. “First one in gets bragging rights for the rest of the summer.”
He didn’t wait. He kicked off his boots, peeled off his socks, and in nothing but his hiking shorts, dove cleanly into the deep center of the pool. He surfaced, pushing wet hair back, grinning. “It’s incredible! Come on!”
Two of the guys, Mike and Sam, whooped and started shucking their clothes down to their boxers, splashing in after him. The two other women in the group, Chloe and Lena, exchanged a hesitant look.
“Nobody brought suits,” Chloe said, stating the obvious.
Derek treaded water, his smirk back in full force. “So? It’s just us. The jungle doesn’t care. Underwear is fine. It’s all just fabric.” He looked right at Nikki, who was lingering at the edge, admiring the water but suddenly self-conscious. “Right, Nik? Live a little.”
Her underwear. She hadn’t thought about it. A little red thong, because it was comfortable under jeans, and a simple, small cotton bra. The idea of them, wet and transparent, made her cheeks flush hotter than the hike had.
“I’m okay,” she said, her voice small. “I’ll just wade.”
“Aw, don’t be shy,” Lena said, finally deciding. She and Chloe quickly stripped to their sensible briefs and sports bras, hurrying into the water with giggles.
Now it was just Nikki on the bank. Derek swam to the shallows near her, resting his elbows on a submerged rock. Water beaded on his shoulders. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime pool, Nikki. You’re already here. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
His tone was so reasonable, so friendly. Jake’s worried face flashed in her mind, but the water looked so cold and wonderful, and everyone else was in. What was the big deal?
“Okay, okay,” she said, laughing at her own nerves.
She turned her back to the group, her fingers fumbling with the button of her shorts. She slid them and her thong down together, stepping quickly out of them, then crossed her arms over her chest to unclasp her bra. In two swift, awkward motions, she dropped it on the pile of her clothes and spun, immediately sinking into the water up to her collarbones.
The cold was a shock, a glorious, breath-stealing embrace. “Oh my gosh!” she squealed, the fear melting into instant delight.
Derek smiled, watching her. “Told you.”
They splashed and laughed for a while, the group fragmenting. Mike and Sam started trying to climb the slippery falls. Chloe and Lena floated on their backs, chatting. Nikki found herself in a quieter eddy near some smooth boulders with Derek.
“This is amazing,” she sighed, leaning back against the water-smoothed stone. “You were right. I needed this.”
“Everyone needs to let go sometimes,” he said. He was standing waist-deep, the water lapping just below his navel. He ran a hand through his hair. “Hey, do you mind if I… I mean, the underwear is kind of annoying. Chafing. Do you care if I go fully nude? It’s more natural.”
The question was so casual, delivered with such unassuming ease. The logic seemed sound. They were basically naked already. What was one more piece of fabric? “No,” she said, her trusting nature overriding any subtle alarm. “It’s fine. It’s just us, right?”
“Right.”
He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his wet boxers and pushed them down, stepping out of them. He tossed them toward the bank without ceremony and turned back to her, completely at ease, the water now covering him just to the hips.
Nikki’s breath caught. She couldn’t help but look. He was soft, but the size of him was still… stunning. It was thick and long, a statement even in its passive state. She’d never seen anything like it. She quickly jerked her gaze back to his face, her own burning.
He saw her look, of course. He just grinned, that confident, easy grin. “See? Much better. You’ll feel better, too. All that damp cotton clinging to you.”
“Oh, I couldn’t,” she said, a nervous laugh bubbling out. She crossed her arms over her breasts under the water.
“Why not? It’s incredibly freeing. We’re all adults. We’re all friends here.” He gestured around. The others were distracted, their own laughter echoing off the rocks. “It’s just skin, Nikki. The jungle doesn’t care, remember?”
His words wrapped around her, persuasive and calm. The water felt so good on her skin, and her underwear was uncomfortable, a twisted, soggy knot. The initial shock of his nakedness was fading, replaced by a strange, compelled curiosity. He was so casual about it. Maybe it was no big deal. Maybe she was the one being childish.
Slowly, her heart hammering against her ribs, she nodded. “Okay.”
Keeping her body submerged, she wriggled out of the thong, letting it float away for a second before snagging it and tossing it toward the bank with a weak, embarrassed throw. She stayed very still, the cool water touching every part of her now. A shocking, vulnerable, but not entirely unpleasant feeling.
“There you go,” Derek said softly, approvingly. “Feels better, doesn’t it?”
It did. A wild, secret thrill ran through her. She was naked in a waterfall pool in the jungle. She gave him a shaky, triumphant smile. “Yeah. It kinda does.”
They talked then, drifting in the gentle current. He asked about her life back home, her dreams. He was a good listener, his eyes attentive. She found herself opening up, the unnatural situation starting to feel strangely natural. At one point, she shifted, and the water level dipped just below her shoulders. Her breasts broke the surface for an instant, the pale curves and dark nipples exposed to the humid air before she sank down again.
She saw his eyes drop, that quick, hungry glance. A new, different kind of heat pooled in her stomach.
“See something you like?” she teased, the boldness coming from somewhere unknown, fueled by the adrenaline of her own nudity.
He met her gaze, unflinching. “It’s hard not to.” His voice was lower. “You have an incredible body, Nikki. You really don’t know, do you?”
Before she could process the directness, a shout came from the center of the pool.
“Chicken fight! Guys versus girls!” Mike yelled. Sam was already on his shoulders.
Chloe and Lena scrambled. “Nikki! Derek! Come on, we need you!”
The moment shattered into playful chaos. “You game?” Derek asked, his eyes sparkling with challenge.
“Yeah!” The word burst out of her, a release of the building tension.
She swam over. He submerged and came up between her legs, his shoulders settling under her thighs as she locked her hands behind his head. Her big, full breasts pressed against the back of his skull and neck, her entire naked body stretched along his back. He stood, lifting her effortlessly out of the water.
The world shifted. She was up high, naked and powerful, laughing as she grappled with Mike, who had Chloe on his shoulders. They tumbled in a spray of water and limbs. When they collapsed, she was flush against Derek, skin to wet skin, his back against her front, her arms around his neck. They were both breathless, laughing.
He shifted, turning in her loose embrace. Now they were face to face, chest to chest in the shallow water, his hands finding her waist to steady them both. The playful contact settled into something else, a sudden, weighted stillness. The laughter died in her throat.
She could feel him. All of him. Against her thigh, the soft, intimidating weight from before was gone, replaced by a thick, hardening press that made her mind go blank for a second. It was massive, a heat-brand through the cool water. A jolt, not entirely of fear, shot through her.
His eyes held hers, the easy charm replaced by a frank, hungry intensity. The cicadas screamed in the trees.
From across the pool, Lena called, “Alright, I’m getting pruny! Time to head back?”
The spell broke. Derek’s expression softened back into its usual friendly mask. “Probably a good call,” he said, his hands slipping from her waist. He didn’t move away immediately. “That was fun.”
“Yeah,” Nikki breathed, scrambling back, putting a foot of water between them. “Fun.”
She turned and hurried toward her pile of clothes, her body thrumming with a confusion she couldn’t name—the residue of wild freedom, the ghost of his hands on her skin, and the startling, imprint of him against her thigh. She dressed quickly, her fingers clumsy, not looking back as the group gathered their things, the easy chatter starting up again as if nothing at all had just happened.
She dressed quickly, her fingers clumsy, not looking back as the group gathered their things, the easy chatter starting up again as if nothing at all had just happened.
The hike back was a blur of green and wet heat. Her clothes stuck to her damp skin, chafing in new places. She walked a few paces behind Derek, watching the way his damp shorts clung to his muscular legs, the memory of what was underneath them flashing in her mind like a private, shocking film reel. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the image.
Back at the volunteer house, the group splintered off toward showers. Nikki lingered on the back porch, using a frayed towel to dry her hair. The door creaked open behind her.
Derek stepped out, a clean towel slung over his shoulder, a fresh pair of briefs in his hand. “Beating the rush,” he said, grinning. “You mind?”
The porch was semi-private, shaded by a sprawling magnolia. “Go ahead,” she said, turning slightly to give him a modicum of privacy, but the large window pane beside her acted as a dim, reflective mirror.
She watched his reflection as he kicked off his boots and peeled the damp shorts down his legs. He was half-turned, his back to her, but then he shifted, and she saw everything. He was soft again, but its substantial weight and length were undeniable. He took the clean briefs and struggled to fit himself inside. The fabric strained, barely containing him. He had to adjust himself carefully, a slow, deliberate tucking that was somehow more intimate than anything in the water.
A soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips before she could stop it. It was just a breath, caught in her throat.
He heard it. His eyes flicked up and met hers in the glass. He didn’t look away. He just finished pulling the briefs up, the outline stark and prominent, and then pulled on his jeans.
She finally broke the gaze, turning to fully face the yard, her heart hammering. She picked up her own damp thong from where she’d set it on the rail. As she bent slightly to step into it, she felt a swift, sharp smack on her ass.
She jumped, a yelp turning into a giggle. He stood there, grinning, holding his rolled-up towel.
“You have a fucking dump truck, Nikki,” he said, his voice low and full of amusement.
She laughed, the tension melting into flattered ease. “A what?”
“A dump truck. An incredible ass. It’s a compliment.”
“Well, thank you, I think,” she said, stepping fully into the thong and shimmying it up her hips. Emboldened by the playful slap, by the secret she’d just witnessed, she gave a little playful twerk, shaking her hips for just a second.
He closed the distance between them in one quiet step. He was suddenly right behind her, his body heat radiating through the thin summer air. The playfulness was a spark in dry grass. Still facing away, she decided to lean back, grinding her hips playfully against the front of his jeans.
She felt him. Instantly, profoundly hard.
The playful motion stuttered. Her grind slowed, deepened, becoming something else entirely—a seeking, instinctive pressure. A low groan rumbled from his chest. His hands came down on her hips, his fingers digging in, holding her firmly against him. He guided the motion, a slow, deliberate roll that made her breath hitch.
This was not a game anymore.
His lips brushed the shell of her ear, his voice a raw whisper that vibrated through her. “You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted to fuck you.”
The words were a lightning strike. She froze for a second, then turned in the circle of his arms. She was facing him now, dressed only in her bra and thong, his hands still locked on her hips. Her face was a canvas of surprise.
“Jake said you did,” she breathed out, a nervous, disbelieving laugh bubbling up. “I guess he noticed.”
Derek didn’t deny it. He didn’t make a joke. His thumbs stroked the bare skin above her hip bones. “Jake’s a smart guy.” His eyes searched hers. “But what do you want, Nikki?”
The question hung in the thick air, heavy as the magnolia blossoms. From inside the house, someone called someone else’s name. A screen door slammed. The real world was just feet away, but on this shadowed porch, it had ceased to exist.