“Anything up there?” he asked.
Focus. She saw some rusted pieces of steel that had probably once been attached to a cart or wagon, and a coiled garden hose.The hose seemed a likely hiding place, so she reached into the center, where she couldn’t see, to feel around.
Something scurried across her fingertips! She screamed and leapt into the air.
She landed in Sloane Bennett’s capable arms, her heart beating too fast as she peered up into his deep brown eyes. “Spider,” she said on a quivery breath. “Or at least it felt like one.”
“I’ve never heard of a detective afraid of a little bitty spider, Riley.”
“Who said it was little?” she whispered, nearly breathless from being so close to him.
“But I’ll be happy to take your mind off it,” he said, then lowered his mouth fully onto hers.
It was the best encounter with a spider Riley Wainscott had ever had.
Of course, once the long and intoxicating kiss had ended, they bickered. Whereas Laura, prior to last night, had run from Braden every time she’d had an orgasm, Riley bickered with Sloane every time he kissed her. Riley simply wasn’t used to feeling so consumed by a mere kiss, a mere man. She feared her overwhelming attraction to Sloane as much as she was drawn in by it.
As the writing day had gone on, the two sleuths had continued their search on the Dorchesters’ grounds. Although Riley had lived next door with Aunt Mimsey for many years—since her parents had died in an auto accident when Riley was a teenager—she’d never really explored the Dorchesters’ estate nor realized how vast it was. She’d attended teas in Mrs. D.’s parlor or the occasional Fourth of July picnic in the sprawling backyard, but as she and Sloane searched for clues, she realized the picturesque lands stretched farther than she knew.
They’d searched around the tall shade trees dripping with bird-houses, the well-manicured shrubs and flowering bushes, the small vegetable garden where Edna and Mrs. D. worked together during the summer months—and then Sloane had spotted a path behind the garden that led back through the trees. He’d taken Riley’s hand and they began to follow it together . . .
Until they found themselves standing in a beautiful park-like square of thick green grass dotted with colorful flower-beds, perfectly shaped pear trees—each sporting a bright red or blue birdhouse—and in the center, a stone bench clearly placed there so one could sit and soak in the tranquil beauty. A thick row of shrubbery—at least eight feet high—bordered the perimeter, so that it was impossible to see out and equally as impossible for anyone to see in. They’d discovered . . . a secret garden.
“I never knew this was here,” Sloane said, clearly in awe.
“Me, neither, and I’ve lived next door for years.”
“I stayed here during summers when I was a kid and roamed these grounds—but I guess I never ventured this far from the house.”
“Why do you think it’s here?” Riley asked. “Why do you think no one knows about it?” She lifted her gaze to Sloane’s, realizing they still held hands. She made no effort to pull away, and neither did he.
He shook his head.“I can’t imagine.”Then he looked around, still taking in the wonder. “It feels like we’re far away, though, doesn’t it? From ever ything.”
Riley nodded. The rest of the lovely estate was pristine and postcard-worthy, but something about this storybook patch of ground felt almost magical. The kind of place that could make you forget the rest of the world existed.The grass was greener, the flowers more vibrant. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear the sky overhead was bluer.
As she stood there hand in hand with her dark-haired companion, she gazed about, soaking up every nuance of the place, feeling as if the garden somehow cocooned them and was, in some ethereal way, pushing them closer together.
That’s when she spotted the sliver of paper poking from the round opening of a little red birdhouse shaped like a barn. Rather than release Sloane’s strong hand from her grip, she pulled him along behind her, and he followed, for once letting her lead. The birdhouse hung too high for her to reach, but she pointed silently, and Sloane clearly saw what had caught her eye. He reached for it, extracting an oblong slip from the circular door.
As he stretched it between his hands, they both peered down to see Mr. Dorchester’s missing check! “Uncle Howard’s dividends,” Sloane said as Riley gasped.
They, of course, had no idea what this might mean, but turning up another large clue felt like a supreme victory. On impulse, Riley threw her arms around Sloane’s neck, and he closed her in a firm embrace. “Finally!” she said. “Another missing item hidden on the grounds!”
“Finally,” he repeated, but his voice had gone lower, smokier, and his lids were shaded, his eyes half shut in what Riley could only decipher as pure desire. “Finally, I get to kiss you again.”
It had only been a couple of hours since the last time, but it felt like forever to Riley, too. His mouth crushed hard on hers, the kiss swallowing her and making her forget everything else but this man and this secret space that felt so private, so perfectly isolated.
Riley had never made love to a man she barely knew, but as the kisses deepened, she understood that was where they were leading, and she hadn’t the faintest wish to stop them.
Of course, she supposed if she were serious about finally showing the world she could be a good detective, she should stay focused on solving this mystery. This might finally be the one that would lead to a career in investigations. And yet . . .
Sloane’s kisses, as they dropped from her neck to her shoulder, made her whole body tingle. And when he unbuttoned her shirt, she couldn’t help wanting him to see the pretty pink bra she’d just happened to put on this morning. Not that her choice of lingerie had anything to do with him—she might be madly attracted to the guy, but how could she have possibly known they would stumble upon a secret garden that would feel as seductive as Sloane himself?
Slowly, he stripped her free of her bra and sank his mouth to her aching breasts. Moments later, they dropped to their knees and Riley wanted nothing more than to lie down and feel the cool greenness against her back as he made love to her.
And that’s exactly what happened.The carpet of grass cushioned her as sweet as any bed while Sloane moved inside her in slow, deep strokes that filled her senses.The rich scent of the grass mixed with the fragrance of roses nearby.The sun warmed her face. And Sloane made her feel every ounce a woman.
Perhaps she should have said no. Perhaps it was too soon, especially considering that she wasn’t even sure yet if she really liked him. But she’d never met a man so tempting, and the lushness of their garden hideaway had seemed the final ingredient to something which—if she were honest—she’d been daydreaming about since the moment she’d laid eyes on him.
“I’ve never done this before,” she told him. “Made love to a man I don’t know very well.”
He grinned heatedly down at her. “You know me now, honey.”
If this was how they celebrated every time they found a clue, she had a feeling that solving this particular mystery was going to be a lot more fun than usual.
Laura smiled at the screen, having ended the chapter. She had no idea if her editor would let such a scene fly in what were generally quaint and family-friendly novels, but for now, she was following her muse, and her muse was definitely thinking about sex today. At the moment, she wasn’t sure her muse would ever stop thinking about it. Since getting acquainted with Braden, she’d had sex on the brain, and now that he was here, she didn’t expect that to change anytime soon.
Just then, the front door opened, letting in a small blast of brisk air. Another sunny day had filled the house with solar heat, so she wore only a cami and joggers. She looked up, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the chill.
Braden appeared rugged and cold in his ski gear, like a man you wanted to wrap up with in a blanket next to the fire. “Fun skiing?” she asked, pushing to her feet to greet him.
“Yeah. Great day out there. I’m beat.”
“Oh.” Well, that was okay. She might have sex on the brain, but the blanket-and-fire idea appealed, too, so she’d make the best of it. She’d skied a little herself, and she remembered that a long day on the slopes could leave you exhausted.
She could only assume her disappointment was written all over her face when he said, “Don’t worry, snowflake. I’m not that tired.”
She practically felt her nipples harden at the deep promise in his voice. “Well, if you were, I’d understand. I mean, it’s not like I need sex constantly or anything.”
He chuckled. “Too bad, because that’s how often I plan to give it to you.”
She drew in her breath. “If you insist.”
“I do. Right now, in fact. I want you in the shower.”
A soft gasp escaped her. She’d envisioned them making dinner together, maybe talking a while, getting to know each other a little better—then having more sex.
“What’s wrong?” He stripped off a sturdy pair of black ski gloves, tossing them in the corner of the tiled foyer, then flung the baseball cap with the Vail resort logo from his head, as well.
She bit her lip. “Nothing.”
He stripped off his ski jacket and let it drop to the floor to reveal a soft fleece pullover. “Did you go all sensible and conservative on me again today?” he asked, moving toward her, down the two carpeted steps into the sunken living room. He drew near, resting his hands on her hips. “Is this where I have to convince you, persuade you?” He let his palms glide upward to the sides of her breasts. She wore no bra, so her nipples jutted prominently through her top as he stroked his thumbs over them, and her pussy surged.
“I don’t think,” she said, her voice breathy as her hands curled into the fleece at his chest, “you’ll have to work too hard to get me where you want me.”
A slow grin spread over his face. “Good. Let’s go get wet together.”
Chapter Eight
They stood in the bedroom, outside the massive marble shower, Braden’s eyes sparkling with mischief and sex. Part of Laura wondered again how she’d found herself in such a game—where she was willing to do whatever this man wanted and he knew it. Fortunately, she brimmed with more anticipation than trepidation.
“Pants,” he said, pointing to hers, then the floor.
Pulling at the drawstring below her navel, she felt the fabric loosen, then pushed it down. The pants dropped, and she stepped smoothly out of them, leaving her in a pink cami and white cotton bikini undies. “Shirt,” she said, following his lead and lifting one finger toward his fleece.
He took it off over his head and tossed it aside, but still wore a mock turtleneck and ski pants.
“That one, too,” she added, nodding toward the turtleneck.
He smiled softly, then removed it, as well. “Top,” he said.
Slowly, never taking her eyes off his, she pushed down one shoulder strap, carefully withdrawing her arm, then the other. Hooking her thumbs into the neckline, she peeled the fitted cami down, hotly aware that she enjoyed revealing her breasts for his hungry gaze. She pushed the little top past her waist, wiggling her hips to help its descent, until finally it dropped to her ankles. His eyes burned through her, making her feel wholly owned by him.
She had to swallow back her lust before she could speak the next words. “Your pants now,” she said, watching intently as he lowered his ski pants and thermal underwear at the same time until he stood before her in sleek black boxer briefs that hugged his ass as well as the erection growing in front. She had to bite back a gasp at the sight of that arousing bulge.
“All that’s left are the panties, snowflake.” He gave his head a lecherous tilt, punctuating the words with a grin.
Laura’s whole body pulsed with need now, so she didn’t hesitate, pushing the cotton to her knees, then letting them fall the rest of the way. His gaze dropped unabashedly to her pussy.
“You now,” she said. “Drop ’em.”
He had to lift the elastic over his cock to lower his underwear, and she couldn’t hold back her gasp this time, reminded anew of what a magnificent male organ he possessed.
“After you,” he offered.
Laura stepped into the shower that was big enough to walk around with ease and sported a built-in marble bench at one end as well as marble shelves at different heights. Braden followed, turning on the overhead nozzle. “Do you like it warm or do you like it hot?” he asked with a glance in her direction.
“Just warm, I’m afraid.”
He winked. “No worries. I can get you hot in other ways.”
She was already hot inside, her temperature climbing higher with each passing second. Her eyes were drawn back to Braden’s enormous cock—it was difficult to believe she’d managed to handle it. But she wanted it again anyway, and soon.
“Come here, honey,” he said from beneath the spray, and taking her hand, he drew her into the warm flow of water, letting it wet her breasts, belly, and lower. He slid his dampened palms from her hips upward to stroke her breasts, then bent to kiss her mouth.
Just like the previous night and this morning, Braden’s kiss was at once easy and stunning, heightening every other sensation. She lifted her hands to his shoulders, let the kiss swallow her, let his tongue capture hers. When it finally ended, they both let out breathy sighs, and she couldn’t help thinking that even Braden seemed affected. He’d probably kissed hundreds of women, so it imbued her with unexpected power to think hers might actually be special in some way.
“Mmm,” he sighed. “You make it hard to go slow.”
She tilted her head. “Do we have to? Go slow?”
He offered a solemn nod. “Yes.”
“Why?” She bit her lip and felt heat rising to her cheeks with the realization that he’d gotten her in the mood for something hard and fast.
“Because I want to wash you.”
“Oh . . .”The word left her in an airy sound, her body tingling from the promise as he reached to one of the shelves lining the dark marble walls.
He picked up a familiar sponge—the same she’d used—and squeezed her pink body wash onto it, filling the shower with the scent of fresh raspberries. He squished the sponge in his fist and white suds, sparkling like Colorado snow beneath the sun, oozed out.
With one strong hand, Braden drew her arm toward him to run the soapy sponge up its inner side. Somehow, her cunt rippled simply from that. He didn’t stop there, though, gliding it onto her breast and around in a smooth circle that nearly stole her breath. “Oh,” she said again, off balance from the heady sensation, and he steadied her with a palm at her hip. “You have a way with a sponge, Mr. Stone,” she added with a slightly embarrassed laugh.
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he teased, but his eyes were all fire as he drew the sponge slowly around the other breast, leaving a trail of thick white suds behind.
Next, he grazed her stomach, swiping slowly back and forth and making her yearn for it to go lower. Which is when it did—right between her thighs. She sucked in her breath, parted her legs, and watched as he moved the sponge up and down, every brush stimulating her swollen clitoris. “Mmm,” she moaned, her eyes falling shut to the heavenly sensation.
“You look so good in soap suds, baby,” he breathed over her hotly.
“Want to hear a confession?” she asked, peering up at him.
His eyes lit up. “Always.”
“The first time I took a shower here, after we’d been . . . you know . . . talking on the computer . . . I got excited, thinking about you, and I wondered if you’d like seeing me this way, all wet and soapy.”
“Unh—you just made me harder, honey,” he said. “And I have a confession, too. I fantasized about you, all soaped up for me. But the real thing is even better.” With that, he thrust the sponge back on the shelf and let his hands close over her soap-covered breasts. “So slick,” he murmured, massaging them. “Slick and sudsy and bea
utiful.” His erection pressed into her stomach, and she couldn’t resist curling her hand around it. His groan filled her with the need to pleasure him more deeply.
On impulse, she reached for the sponge he’d abandoned and ran it up his rigid length. “Aw, baby,” he growled. He still caressed her wet breasts, peered longingly into her eyes. But then his gaze dropped to the two soapy bodies touching amid the suds, and hers did, too.
She ran the sponge in a circle around his shaft, then slid it underneath to his balls. Yet another deep moan left him through clenched teeth, and she wondered if it was possible for her to come just from touching him. In addition to gliding the soft sponge between his legs, she swiped it over his chest, stomach, his muscular arms. Then she spun him around to wash his back and discovered as she moved lower that he possessed—not surprisingly—a fabulous round, firm ass, which also got cleaned.
The more she explored, the more she wanted him. The hell with chatting by the fire—she wanted him to fuck her hard and deep. “I want you,” she heard herself murmur, leaning into him from behind. “I want your big, beautiful cock inside me.” She reached around to caress it between sponge and hand.
His voice came deep, strained. “Not yet, baby.”
She couldn’t hide her frustration. “Why not?”
He spoke over his shoulder. “Because I want to do more.”
She sucked in her breath, only half appeased, as her cunt ached with need.
“You’ll get what you want eventually,” he promised. “But first, we do things my way.”
He sounded so sure, so confident—she didn’t even think about protesting further. “Okay.”
“Good girl,” he whispered, then turned, lowering a kiss to her forehead.
Taking the sponge from her hand, he set it aside, then drew her halfway beneath the water. As soon as the spray had cleared the soap from the juncture of her thighs, he gently pushed her back against the cool marble wall.
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