by J. L. White
The backyard isn’t large, but it’s certainly charming. The fence is lined with rose bushes and in the middle of the yard an ancient maple soars into the sky. There’s a broad back patio, shaded by latticework thickly covered in vines. A wooden table that seats at least eight is surrounded by a mismatch of comfortable-looking wooden chairs. A collection of squat, white candles on a rectangular tray serves as the centerpiece.
Getting out of my car, I fuss at the hem of my silky top, take a deep breath, and head for the rear French doors.
Before I’m halfway there, one of the doors opens and he comes outside. He’s in jeans and a nice, form-fitting shirt that makes his chest look so, so yummy.
My steps instantly slow at the sight of him. My heart does a little flip flop as we smile at one another. I climb two steps onto the patio, slowly walk up to him, and stop.
“Hi,” I say quietly.
“Hi,” he says as we give each other nervous grins.
He leans in, plants a soft peck on my lips, and takes my hand. “Come on in.”
Loving the feel of my hand in his, we step into the large dining area of an eat-in kitchen. I’m greeted with an enticing aroma.
“Something smells good,” I say.
“That’s the herb-crusted tenderloin you smell,” he says. “Or the butternut squash bisque.”
“Mmmm.” There’s nothing sexier than a man who knows how to cook. “Can I help you with anything?”
“Everything’s under control for the moment. Would you like a tour? It won’t take long.”
I nod. “I love your backyard,” I say, gesturing and looking through the glass doors.
“Me too. I thought we’d eat outside, if you’re game.”
“Sounds perfect.”
He smiles and, still holding my hand, takes me farther into his home. From the dining room, with its white dining table, we go through a wide arch that opens onto a comfortable living room. A beautiful stone fireplace on one wall looks old enough to be original to the house. “The house was built in the 1930s,” he says, “but it’s been well loved, as you can see.”
I do see. While everything in sight is in excellent repair, clearly maintained and updated over the decades, several touches of the original architecture remain. Heavy molding lines the top of the walls, framing off the ceiling, and two intricate, ancient looking light fixtures are sticking out on either side of the fireplace.
“Are those gas?” I ask, moving in closer to inspect them.
“They used to be,” he says, “but they’ve been converted to electric.” He flips a switch to illustrate and they bloom with soft light.
“How lovely.”
He smiles and turns them back off. Leading me by the hand, he takes me down a short hall. There are two rooms on this side of the house. One is his office. A massive wooden desk sits in the center and light maple bookcases line three of the four walls. The remaining wall has a large window with a nice view to the backyard. The other room was most likely a bedroom originally, but he’s set it up to serve as a home gym. He has an exercise bike, free weights, and a Nautilus machine. Floor to ceiling mirrors line one wall.
“Do you actually use any of this?” I tease, thinking how home gyms tend to turn into storage rooms, though I see no signs of that here.
“Only if I’m too busy to go out or the weather’s bad. I’d rather hike the trails or swim laps, when I have a choice.”
We give each other sly grins at the mention of swimming and he gestures me out of the room. I head back down the hall with his hand resting lightly on the small of my back. We cross the living room to another short hallway but he stops there. “And the uh, bedroom’s down that way,” he says.
I turn to look at him but his hand has left my back and he’s returning to the kitchen. “Sorry,” he says lightly. “I need to stir the soup.”
I glance back down the hallway—there’s only one door at the end of it—then head toward the kitchen. It features modern appliances and a large island in the middle. The cabinets, also newer looking, are painted white. Whoever planned the remodel did a good job. Though updated, the kitchen is still as charming as the rest of the house.
There’s a window above the sink, overlooking the backyard.
“Can I get you something to drink?” he asks. He’s at the stove, stirring with his back to me. I can’t help but think he’s been startled by my presence somehow.
“Sure,” I say, crossing to the sink and leaning so I can look out the window. I look more closely at the rose bushes lining the fence, a riot of color. “Wow. I really love your yard.”
I sense him behind me just before his arms snake around my waist. He rests his chin on my shoulder. I hold his arms against me and lean into him slightly, closing my eyes.
“Do you like wine?” he asks lowly.
I nod. “Hm hmmm.”
“I have a nice Cabernet Sauvignon I thought would go great with dinner,” he says.
“Okay.”
We stand still a moment longer, my blood pounding. I just got here and I’m already starting to ache for him.
He plants a soft kiss on the side of my neck and pulls away, leaving me all tingly. I turn and watch him pull two wine glasses out of the cupboard and set them on the island. He glances at me, smiles, and turns to the little wine cooler next to the refrigerator.
I shamelessly check out his ass when he bends over to retrieve the wine, but my eyes are back on his by the time he stands up.
There are two stools on one side of the island. I settle into one and cross my legs as he smoothly uncorks the wine and pours our glasses.
He comes around the island with both glasses and hands me one. Holding my eyes, he clinks his glass gently against mine.
I wonder if he’s going to propose a toast. I couldn’t say why, but doing so seems risky somehow. Like it would be tempting fate, when we’re already pushing our luck. Perhaps he feels the same way, for he only gives me a grin so sexy it melts my panties and we both take a drink.
I’m hoping for a kiss, but instead he heads for the refrigerator, asking me to tell him what I’ve been working on in my other classes.
As he pulls out the makings for a salad and starts putting things together in a bowl, I describe the experiment we’re currently working on in the lab. This leads to a discussion about the kind of work I’d ultimately like to do, and I can’t help myself from becoming animated. He chuckles as the Italian in me takes over and I start talking with my hands.
“Are you laughing at me?” I say good-naturedly.
“No, no,” he says. “Please continue.”
He starts crumbling some goat cheese over the salad bowl. A piece falls outside the bowl and onto the counter.
Eyeing him, I reach over and nip it.
He stops mid-movement, watching me as I slowly lick the soft cheese from between my fingers.
“Sorry,” I say, smiling. I’m not sorry at all. “I love goat cheese.”
The corners of his mouth turn up and he goes back to his task. “I’m glad.”
We talk easily and soon he has everything dished up. Together, we carry bowls and plates to the table outside. He lights the candles in the center and we sit down to eat.
The food is amazing but I’m even more enchanted by the company. He’s so easy to talk to. We talk about everything from science to movies to his favorite hiking trails. I tell him about the Firework Girls and how we got the name. He asks quite a few questions about Justin Kirby and the investigation and how Justin treats me now, though I downplay that a bit. It’s bad enough that Ashley fusses at me over it; I don’t need Shane worrying too. Another year and that will all be behind me anyway.
Our conversation continues to meander, and though I’m thoroughly enjoying talking with him, I’m longing for his touch.
Except for when he held my hand during the tour and wrapped his arms around me when I was at the window, he hasn’t touched me once. I’m not sure why or what he’s thinking—I haven’t asked him
about it and I haven’t pushed—but I sense I need to let him be the one to make the first move this time.
As the sun goes down, we clear the table, l watch him load the dishwasher (he wouldn’t let me help), he pours more wine, and we return to our seats outside. We talk softly a while longer, then fall into a comfortable silence. The yard is bathed in just enough moonlight that I can make out the shapes of things, but it’s a dark night. Quiet too. It’s the kind of silence that feels tangible and comforting.
The lights from the candles cast our little alcove beneath the vine-covered lattice into light. The flame flickers softly on his face and in his eyes. Looking at one another, we smile gently.
“Shall we go in?” he asks quietly.
I nod, but I have to wonder... go in and do what? Is he going to hand me my purse and thank me for the lovely evening and send me on my way?
If he does, I’ve already decided I’ll go. I want him. I want him desperately. But this time it needs to be him. Hard as it will be, if he doesn’t want to make that move, I’ll respect it.
We grab our empty glasses and stand up to go in. I watch as he bends over and blows out the candles. We’re wrapped in near darkness.
He straightens, but I don’t move. He’s holding me with a gaze I feel in my chest. Almost afraid to hope, I watch him in silence as he slowly draws near.
Without a word, he takes my glass and sets it on the table. With him looking at me, my breath shallows, anticipating the kiss I hope is finally coming. Holding my eye, he brings one hand up. His hand brushes my cheek, circles around, and cups the back of my neck.
He pulls me gently. I go willingly.
Our lips meet. My heart and breath both halt. My hands tentatively come up, touching his waist through his shirt. His hand gently caresses the back of my neck while his other hand curls around my back.
Our lips part slightly. The tip of his tongue touches my bottom lip. Everywhere inside of me is trembling now. We open our mouths to each other. As our tongues meet fully, tasting each other, we draw each other into a firm embrace.
It’s a slow, sensual kiss that pulls me deeper and deeper into him. This was so worth the wait. Our arms begin to travel. I rub my hands along his shoulders, down his back, and to the top of his jeans. He’s still caressing my neck and my jawline. His other hand rubs the small of my back and continues on until he tightens his embrace again, this time firmly squeezing my ass.
I reach for his as well, squeezing before coming back up and holding him more tightly against me. His desire for me presses hard against my thigh.
The hand that was cupping my neck trails downward toward my breast. Panting now, I angle my torso slightly to give him full access. As he squeezes my breast, my hand goes back to his ass, then around the front to his cock. As I squeeze the tip through the fabric of his slacks, his mouth goes down to my neck. I arch my head back as he suckles my skin, inducing a delicious electric shock everywhere he touches me.
I lean back, my rear against the table, as he takes me with increasing intensity. His hands are all over me now. I bring one knee up and hook my ankle around his thigh. Still sucking on the crook of my neck, he pinches my erect nipple through my shirt. I exhale forcefully.
Suddenly he brings both hands to cup my face, and kisses me deeply. I moan in his mouth, wrapping my arms and one leg around him.
He pulls away, holding my gaze as he takes my hand. He backs up, toward the patio door. I follow and he turns and leads me into the house.
The light fixture above the kitchen island seems abrupt after the soft darkness we just left, but he leads me down the hall and we’re hidden in darkness once more. He stops in front of his closed door and draws me back into his arms, kissing me deeply. Kissing him back and running one hand up his neck and into his hair, I fumble for the door knob with my other hand.
I find the knob and swing the door open.
Still wrapped up in each other, he pulls back slightly and glances at the door. He looks back to me. He’s still at war with himself. I can see it.
I do nothing to hide my desire for him. I pull on the back of his neck, urging him to come to me. He resists for only a fraction of a second, then his mouth is on mine and I’m pressed between him and the hall wall. I moan softly and rub my hand down his firm chest, his abs, and still lower.
He pulls back suddenly and sweeps me off my feet like I’m one of those tiny little girls that get carted around by their men. I feel the firm muscles in his arms and back, but he’s not straining at all. Good god, this man.
He carries me through the door and easily sets me on his bed and I’m ready for him this instant. He sinks on top of me, kissing me with a new level of passion, running his hand down my side. He slips his hand under my shirt and leaves a hot trail of sensation on my skin as he works his way up my stomach and to my breast.
Wrapping my legs around him, my hands claw at his back, bunching up the fabric of his shirt until I feel his firm skin under my hands. I tug at his shirt and he lifts up enough for me to remove it and toss it on the floor. Even in the near darkness, I can see the outlines of his beautiful chest and rub my hands over him.
He starts to unbutton my shirt but I’m too impatient for that. I grab it and pull it off over my head. He eyes my full breasts. He reaches behind me and unhooks my bra in an instant. He helps me scramble out of it and that goes flying too.
He goes down for my breast, suckling my hard nipple and making my back arch. I grab the back of his hair and hold him more tightly against my breast. Taking my clue, he sucks me harder and presses firmly into me. I sigh and grunt, squeezing his broad shoulders.
He moves to my other nipple and works that one too. My whole body is buzzing and I wrap my legs more firmly around him. He comes back up and kisses me as the erection under his jeans press against my crotch. I press back against him, his hardness hitting my clit under my jeans and giving me a jolt.
In between our eager kisses I breathe, “I want you, Shane.” I angle my hips and press against his hard cock. He groans in my mouth. I whisper, “Take me.”
He lifts off me slightly, looking me in the eye as our ragged breaths sound in my ear. Keeping my gaze locked on his, I unzip my jeans and start hitching them down my hips.
It’s all the encouragement he needs.
He crawls backward, giving me a ravenous look, and takes over with my jeans. I bring my knees together and he expertly slides my jeans off and drops them on the floor. My feet are resting softly on his thighs and I’m trembling as he reaches for my panties next. The fabric of the crotch is soaked. He slowly slides them down my thighs, past my knees, along my calves. I lift my feet together and he removes my panties completely.
I exhale deeply as he takes me in with his gaze. His lips are slightly parted as he glances up at me, then back down to my mound. He gently pushes my knees apart with his hands.
He slowly sinks down toward my pussy, his hands inching up my inner thighs as he does so. I’m exhaling in short, sharp breaths, anticipating him.
When his tongue touches my clit my body lights up and I open my legs wider. I grab the back of his head with both hands and whimper. God, I’m so close already. He slides two fingers inside me and only then do I realize just how wet I am.
Licking my clit with short, firm strokes, he slides his fingers in and out of me and I feel myself tighten around him. I’m still hanging on to his head, pressing him harder against my swollen clit.
He teases me with his tongue, strumming me higher and higher. His fingers are working me too. He curls his fingers and hits my G-spot. Taking me by surprise, my orgasm explodes with such force I curl my entire body toward him. Legs shaking, I cry out. Waves of pleasure pound through me as he continues to lap against my clit.
My head falls back against the bed and I thrash helplessly as my orgasm swells. I arch my pelvis toward him and open myself as wide as I can. He curls his fingers against me as I ride the last spike of pleasure.
At last I release him and sink i
nto the bed.
He lifts his head and I look down at him. He gently pulls his fingers out of me. He puts his fingers in his mouth and sucks my juices off of them.
The heat in my body is already rising and I want more of him. Panting, I watch as he stands up and undoes the button on his jeans. He slowly lowers the zipper. My eyes flit up to his—enjoying his look of longing for me—then back to his hands.
He hooks one thumb around the waistband of his briefs and pulls the material down as he grabs his cock with his other hand and reveals a specimen of manhood that gets my blood pumping even more.
I remember how he felt inside me before and I’m instantly throbbing. My legs readjust slightly and I softly bite my bottom lip.
Jeans off now, he reaches for his nightstand and I hear the foil wrapper of a condom. Yes, good thinking, I think vaguely as he quickly unrolls it onto his cock.
Come to me, I think, and he does, crawling up the bed. My hands are all over his firm chest again. I bring my knees up around his waist as he slightly lowers himself between my legs.
He’s not quite touching me there. Only our legs and stomachs are together. He’s propped up on his elbows. I move my hands from his chest to his biceps and squeeze the bulging muscles slightly.
I lift my mouth to his, wrap my arms around him, and pull him down to me. As his weight settles on me, I exhale with satisfaction. I angle my hips, seeking him. He finds me.
As he cups my jaw and the back of my neck in his hand, his cock slowly slides all the way inside. I’m still tight and so, so wet.
He groans into the crook of my neck.
I whisper, “Yes. Shane.”
He pulls out slightly and we exhale together. We hold our breaths as he pauses. When he slides all the way back in me, we both sharply inhale. He sucks on the crook of my neck as he starts to rock me. Slowly. Smoothly. Then harder and faster. I run my hands down his back and to his ass, holding him as he comes into me again and again.
He slides one hand under my ass, angling my hips and hitting my spot. My pleasure spikes, coursing through my entire body. I clamp hard around him, gasping for breath. He kisses me hard, riding me, stretching and filing every inch of me. I feel his cock straining against me.