“This has been perfect,” Blair says softly.
I look down at my napping son then across at her and nod. “Aye. It has.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
LACHLAN
After Finn finally drifts off—exhausted from sun and sand—I find myself at my bedroom window, staring across the back garden towards the granny flat. A soft glow spills from Blair’s window, and though I can’t see from here, I know she’s still awake.
I should go to bed. Let today end on the perfect note it’s already struck. Maintain some bloody boundaries.
Instead, I pad barefoot through the house and out the back door, the night air cool against my skin. My pulse quickens as I cross the garden and knock on her door.
Blair opens it almost immediately, like she was waiting. She’s in soft cotton shorts and a vest, her hair loose around her shoulders. And her eyes... warmth, mischief, an invitation I’ve no strength to refuse.
“You here to give me another goodnight kiss?” she asks, that American directness I’m coming to love threading through her voice.
“Aye,” I rasp.
This kiss isn’t innocent like last night’s. I frame her face with my hands and take her mouth, hungry for the sweetness I’vebeen thinking about all evening. She melts against me, fingers fisting in my shirt.
We stumble backwards into the flat. I kick the door shut, lips never leaving hers. She tastes of heat and salt air, and I can’t get enough.
“The curtains!” she gasps suddenly. “Can’t get up to mischief in front of Gerald.” With a cheeky wink, she goes over to the window, where that plant of hers still sits on the sill, and yanks the fabric closed.
I chuckle, heat thrumming low. “Looks like you’ve learned your lesson. Close the curtains first,thenget your tits out.” I catch the hem of her vest top, tugging it upwards. “Or rather, letmeget your tits out.”
She gasps but laughs as I tug the vest over her head, and Christ, the sight of her bare chest nearly stops my heart. Four years I went without this hunger, without touching or wanting like this, and now she’s all I crave.
Her tits are perfect, small and pert, nipples already erect in the cool air. I can’t stop myself from cupping one, marvelling at the soft weight of it, the firm peak jutting against my hand.
“Lachlan.” Just my name, but breathless, needy—and it makes my cock strain hard against my joggers, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide what she’s doing to me.
I back her against the wall, mouth at her throat, her collarbone, the sweet spot where neck meets shoulder. She tastes of clean skin and faint soap, better than any whisky, and I want to devour every inch of her.
Her hands are busy too, tugging at my T-shirt until I have to break away long enough to pull it over my head. When her palms flatten against my chest, fingers tangling in the hair there, a low groan rumbles out of me.
“Time to lose these,” I mutter, hooking my thumbs into the waistband of her shorts. I slide them down her legs, and fuck me, seeing her naked again knocks the breath from my lungs.
She’s beautiful. Pale silk skin, curves and hollows my hands itch to explore. A neat triangle of golden hair between her thighs. The rise and fall of her chest, quick with need. I’ve already tasted her, but the sight of her like this still makes me feel half-wild, undone.
“You’re staring,” she says softly, but there’s no self-consciousness in it. Just heat.
“Can you blame me?” My voice comes out gravelly. “You’re... Christ, I’ve no words.”
I don’t finish the sentence. Can’t find words that do justice to what I’m seeing, what I’m feeling.
So I kiss her instead, deep and hungry, my hands greedy on her body. The curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, the soft skin of her inner thighs... She shudders, gasping into my mouth.
When I cup her pussy, she’s already wet, and the feel of it makes my cock jerk hard.
“Please,” she whispers against my lips, and I don’t need to be asked twice.
I slide one finger through her folds, finding her clit, and she arches against the wall. She’s slick and ready, and when I circle that sensitive bundle of nerves, her hips buck against my hand.
“More,” she gasps, and I ease one finger inside her.
Christ. She’s tight, hot, gripping me like a fist, and I have to close my eyes for a moment to keep from losing control. When I add a second finger, she cries out, head thudding back against the wall.
