“Shh,” he laughed breathlessly, his forehead pressed against mine. “We’re supposed to be sneaking.”
“Then stop making me want to scream.”
“Can’t. Sorry.” He started to move, slow and deep, and I bit my lip to keep from making noise. “You feel too good. I can’t help myself.”
We found a rhythm, unhurried but intense. Not the slow, emotional lovemaking from the apartment, but not the frantic need of our first times either. This was something else. Something playful and passionate, intimate and wild all at once.
The candles flickered around us, casting dancing shadows. Above, stars wheeled across the sky. The night air was cool on my heated skin, and every sensation felt heightened. His hands on my hips, his mouth on my shoulder, the stretch and drag as he moved inside me.
“Leigh,” he groaned, his rhythm faltering. “I’m close.”
“Me too.” I wrapped my legs around his waist, changing the angle, and suddenly I was right there on the edge. “Dex!”
I came with my hand pressed over my mouth to muffle the sound, my body clenching around him. He followed seconds later, burying his face in my neck, his body shuddering with release.
We lay tangled together afterward, breathing hard, the cool night air raising goosebumps on our sweat-slicked skin.
“That,” he said finally, “was not how I planned this evening.”
I laughed, the sound bubbling out of me. “No?”
“I was going to seduce you slowly. Feed you strawberries. Be all smooth and romantic.” He lifted his head to look at me, his hair adorably mussed. “Instead we had sex in your father’s garden before I even opened the wine.”
“Oh, are there strawberries,” I asked, leaning up on an elbow to peer at the basket on the edge of the blanket.
He grinned and pressed a kiss to my nose. “We should probably put some clothes on first before we scandalize the neighborhood.”
We found our underwear and clothes scattered around the blanket, getting dressed between kisses and laughter. Once we were decent, or at least decent enough, we settled onto the blanket properly, and Dex opened the wine.
“Ta-da,” he said, pouring us each a glass. “Romance. See? I had a plan.”
“It’s a very good plan.” I accepted the glass and curled into his side, looking up at the stars. “Even if we did do it backwards.”
“We do everything backwards.” His arm came around me, pulling me closer. “Why should tonight be different?”
We sipped our wine in comfortable silence, the candles casting warm light over everything. He’d packed cheese and crackers, strawberries, chocolate. We nibbled at the food, feeding each other, stealing kisses between bites.
“If you could go anywhere,” I said eventually, tracing patterns on his chest, “where would you go?”
“Right now? Or in general?”
“Either. Both.”
Dex was quiet for a moment, thinking. “I’ve never really traveled. Never left the east coast except for one trip to Miami when I was twelve.”
“You’ve never traveled?” I propped myself up to look at him. “Not even for vacation?”
“Where would I go? And with who?” He shrugged, but I could see the vulnerability beneath the casual gesture. “I’ve always been too busy with the garage, or helping the brothers with something, or... I don’t know. It never seemed like something I was allowed to do.”
“Allowed?”
“Wanted, then.” He pulled me back down against him. “But with you? I’d go anywhere. Everywhere.”
“Like where?”
“Italy,” he said immediately. “I want to see the Amalfi Coast. Drive those winding roads, eat fresh pasta, drink wine that costs more than my truck payment.”
I laughed. “That’s oddly specific.”
