“No…”
He nips my earlobe. “Honestly?”
“Ow. A little bit.” The thought of him liking my sister actually fills me with a bright green mist.
He chuckles and kisses around my jaw to my mouth. “No need to be. You’re the only one I’m obsessed with.” He touches his tongue to my bottom lip, and when I sigh and open my mouth, he slides his tongue against mine.
We indulge in a long, luscious kiss, only parting as we become aware of the chatter of a bird right next to us. A fantail has alighted on the fence just feet away, and it’s watching us, apparently amused by our embrace.
“It’s celebrating Valentine’s Day,” I comment.
His eyebrows rise. “Oh of course. I’d forgotten.”
“So romantic,” I tease.
“Old and cynical,” he reminds me. His gaze caresses my face. “But I should have remembered. Happy Valentine’s Day,Mon Petit Gâteau.” He says it softly, then bends and kisses me again before taking my hand. “Come on. I can hear the shower calling.”
My heart immediately speeds up as we begin the journey back to the cottage. I’m not going to think about what happens after we get back to Auckland. I’m lucky to have all day and all night with him, and I’m going to make the most of the time that I have, and worry about the future tomorrow.
Playing ostrich again? I try to ignore the voice in my head. I know I often bury my head in the sand and let Future Maddie take care of problems when I feel overwhelmed. But what option do I have right now?
I push all thoughts out of my head as we leave the paddocks behind us and cross toward the cottage… and then let out a squeal as my boot sinks into a very deep, soft, squelchy piece of mud. My boot sticks there, but I was walking fast, and my foot slides out of it before it registers that I’m stuck. I stop and flail, one leg in the air, trying desperately to keep my balance, and Caesar turns and his eyebrows rise in alarm as he reaches out for me, but he’s not quick enough. I fall back and lower mysock-covered foot to catch me, which slips immediately… and within seconds I’m on my butt in the mud, completely covered in muddy droplets.
“Shit,” he says, “are you okay?” He walks carefully over to me, pulls my boot out of the mud, then extends a hand.
I let him pull me up and stand there, dripping.
He tries to hide a smile, and fails, and soon we’re both rolled up with laughter.
“Oh my God.” I try to wipe my face, but all I end up doing is smearing the mud all over it. “I am so fucking clumsy.”
“You are absolutely delightful.” He picks a bit of mud out of my hair. “You really need a shower now.”
Before he can move back, I capture his face between my muddy hands and plant a kiss on his lips. When I move back, he gives me a wry look from his now-mud-caked face.
“Minx,” he says.
“Just to make sure you take a shower, too,” I state as we trudge toward the cottage.
“Oh, there’s no way I’m letting you get in there without me.” As we reach the door, he levers off one boot with the toe of the other. “I need to supervise to make sure you’re completely clean.”
“Thank God, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to cope on my own.”
He gives a wicked chuckle, pulls me into his arms, and kisses me, wrapping his arms around me. I lift my arms around his neck, and soon we’re both completely mud-smeared.
I feel completely, overwhelmingly happy at that moment, and cling to the lift of my heart desperately, wanting it to stay. I want to hang onto him, to tell him everything, and trust that he’ll understand and open up to me and tell me it’s going to be okay… but I can’t, I know I can’t. All I can do is exist in the moment, and so I focus on his mouth on mine, and the urgency of his fingers as he undoes the zipper of my jacket, and his murmured wordsas he kisses me, telling me I’m beautiful, perfect, and the most gorgeous woman he’s ever seen.
Tears prick my eyes—damn baby hormones—but I push them away and kiss his face, his jaw, and his cheeks, which are now covered with day-old stubble that prickles my lips.
“I’ll shave,” he promises, kissing my ear and down my neck. “I don’t want to leave bristle-burn on your thighs.”
Ohhh… the thought of his hot mouth between my legs again makes me almost dizzy. “I love your tongue,” I whisper, and he laughs, taking off his own jacket.
“We should leave these outside,” he says, and I hook mine next to his on the nearby fence, and we place our boots by them.
Taking my hand, he leads me into the cottage and locks the door behind us. Then, standing in the small entrance way, we begin to strip, dropping our wet, muddy clothing on the tiles.
His hot gaze fastens on me as I peel up my tee and slide off my jeans, gradually revealing my pale skin. Likewise, I can’t tear my gaze from him as he grabs a handful of his tee at the back of his neck and tugs it over his head, then pushes his jeans down his thighs. Wow, the man has a hot body, taut and tanned, and it doesn’t hurt that his boxers are bulging impressively.
