Yeah, "logs" wouldn't have exactly hit Ramona's top five ideal make-out locations, ever. Neither would "campfire" or "in a cabin" or "in the great outdoors at all," really. But the thing was, she didn't even fucking care, because she was rapidly forgetting where she was or why she even would care about those things. 

And she was going to have a hard time continuing to not deal with things at this rate, considering how she was pressing closer, her leg twining along his in an effort to maintain that whole out-of-his-lap thing but still get what she wanted.