Page 50 of Flirty Fall Fling

“I’m going to the restroom,” I tell her. “I’ll find you in line.”

“Perfect!” She heads straight for the doughnut window.

As I turn and make my way toward the outhouse buildings, a familiar voice finds me.

“Beautiful,” I hear in a deep grumble.

I spin around, and there he is, leaning against the fence rail by the outbuildings with his ball cap pulled low and a paper bag of apples in one hand, looking like trouble that got a full night’s sleep.

I close the distance so my voice doesn’t have to carry. “Not in public. Someone could overhear.”

“It’s just us. I made sure the coast was clear.” His mouth does this obnoxiously cute little smirk. “Small world.”

“Getting smaller by the day.” My heart does a somersault. I saw this man six hours ago. I can still feel where he kissed my shoulder. “Why are you here?”

“The same reason you are. It’s opening day. Plus, Autumn told me I’d regret not experiencing this.” He glances toward the doughnut line, then back at me.

“Oh, so you’re becoming besties with my best friend?” I ask, popping my brow.

He licks his lips. “If you only knew what she’s said about you.”

“Don’t make me call her.”

He tilts his head like he’s daring me. “And give us away? I know better, sweetheart.”

I try to hold back a smile but fail. “Always this cocky?”

“Always,” he confirms, checking the path in both directions. Then he grabs my hand, pulling me away with him.

“Jamie.”

“Thirty seconds.”

He tows me around the back corner of the cider barn, where the empty crates are stacked higher than my head. The crowd noise disappears, and for a second, it’s just us.

“Somebody could walk around that corner at any second,” I say as his mouth crashes into mine.

His lips are sweet and warm as the kiss deepens. My fingers twist in his shirt, and a moan escapes me as I feel how hard he is pressed against me. I rub my palm against him, and he groans, running his fingers through my hair.

Every alarm bell rings, and I know I should stop this before someone catches us. There are hundreds of, if not a thousand, people just on the other side of the barn. But I can’t stop. Our tongues swipe together, and I can taste the mint of his toothpaste.

“Fuck,” he whispers, pulling away.

His forehead drops against mine, and we’re both breathing like we sprinted through the orchard to be here. He catches my wrist and pins it flat against his chest. His heart is slamming.

“We need to stop,” he says, “or I’m going to take you against this barn in the middle of the day.”

“Maybe I won’t stop you.”

The sound he makes is barely human. He removes the space between us and pushes me against the wall with one hand braced above my head. His mouth grazes my jaw, then my ear, all the way to that spot just below it that makes my knees go weak. He knows about that spot. He found it in the cemetery and never forgot.

“Careful, sweetheart. I’m trying to be a gentleman, and you’re making it impossible.”

“You started it,” I whisper.

“You’re right.”

His teeth nibble my earlobe, and heat pours straight down between my thighs. I’m too worked up. He pulls back an inch and focuses entirely on me.