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Then Dillon stepped out of the backyard, a long length of wood over one shoulder, and she learned what a hot flash really was.
“Hey.” He grinned and stopped short, eyeing the cooler she held before turning his attention to her. “Damn, woman, are you trying to make me drool?”
“Fancy talker.” She walked over to him and lifted her hand to his cheek. His eyes were so blue, like twin lasers that could see right through her. “You’re all sweaty.”
Apparently he took that as a suggestion to back off, but she snagged a handful of his wifebeater and tugged him right back. “Don’t mind that?” he asked, setting down the lumber.
“I’d like to rub against you like a kitten in the sunshine. Unless you consider that weird. In that case, then yes.” She gave a fake shudder. “Please don’t sweat on me.”
Laughing, he took her cooler and grabbed her hand as they strolled into the backyard. “I want to show you the house. Then we’ll figure out that rubbing thing.”
Her first impression was of abundant space. The yard was huge and fenced in white, the perfect inspiration for a romantic’s dream. Lush green grass and a few perennials added to the feeling that the home was well tended, though the flowers looked less than cheerful in the heat. “You could do more with the landscaping,” he said, noticing her focus.
“Cabbage roses would be lovely here. Spreading out from near the foundation. They’re fussy, but they’d fit in perfectly with a cottage like this.” She shielded her eyes from the sun and inwardly cursed at forgetting her sunglasses back at the shop. “A cottage with solar panels,” she added with a smile.
“Yeah.” He dragged his forearm over his forehead. “Just did those last week. We tried to honor the integrity of the original design, but so much of the house had to be replaced that I figured the benefits of adding them would offset the visual.”
“They don’t look out of place.”
“Much,” he teased, opening the back door and ushering her inside the cool, modernized home.
It was gorgeous. The home had exposed wood-beamed ceilings overhead, and pale walls and natural bamboo flooring throughout, which she identified without him telling her, much to his enjoyment. While they walked, he talked about quarried stone and low-flow fixtures and countertops made from a special resin that consisted of recycled content. His excitement spurred her own, and by the time they reached the front porch, she was grinning like a fool.
“You’re like a little kid with environmentally sanctioned toys.”
He glanced at her and smiled sheepishly. “I’m boring you.”
“No way. This is so fascinating. I can’t believe how much work you and the other volunteers have put into this house.” And yet there was barely a sign they’d been there. Everything had been tidied up. The only evidence was the leftover southern pine Dillon had toted out to the side yard.
“We could’ve used you though, for the curb appeal aspect.” He stared out toward the manicured front lawn. “You’d probably make these homes into showpieces.”
“You’ve done that already. I’m so impressed, Dillon. Really.”
“Thank you. I just hope John’s happy here.” He pulled her under his arm and brushed a kiss over her temple as they stared across the lawn. “His mom lives nearby. He’s excited to spend time with her after his tours in Iraq.”
“It’s amazing. Truly.”
“Amazing enough you’d go to the Helping Hands benefit with me when they unveil the pictures?” His body braced as he asked the question. Did he really think she would say no? “It would really mean a lot to me if you ca
me, Alexa.”
She couldn’t stop the grin that broke across her face. “I’d love to. I love what you’ve done to the house. And I love—” She broke off and bit her lip. “Sex,” she finished.
That was better than what she’d almost said, something so utterly ridiculous and unexpected that she could only chalk it up to the heat and how impressed she was with his work. They barely knew each other. Weren’t big feelings supposed to develop gradually over time, not burst up out of nowhere?
“Really. I never guessed.” Lips twitching, he turned toward her and laid his hands on her shoulders. “Let’s go grab that cooler from the kitchen and spread out in the backyard.”
“Okay,” she said weakly, though she wasn’t sure more sun would help.
Sure enough, they were soon spread out in the backyard—but not with the picnic lunch they’d packed. The cooler still sat untouched on the edge of the tablecloth. No matter, Dillon had discovered a better feast than cold fried chicken.
Namely her breasts.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she gasped as he pulled her off-the-shoulder top and strapless bra down so that her breasts plumped over the top.
“I can. Jesus, I love this tattoo.” He spanned his fingers over her breast and flicked his tongue against the dark pink nipple. “I’m dying to get inside you again.”
It had only been a couple days, but it didn’t seem to matter. She already quivered with need and he nudged her arousal higher with every lick. Every nuzzle and bite. “Me too. I want you so bad.”
