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“D-do you want to come in for coffee?” she half laughed, half moaned.
“Hallie, I need to take you to bed,” he growled, momentarily breaking their frantic kiss. “This is not a joke.”
His teeth raked down her neck, his mouth racing back up into her hair, messing it up. Messing every part of her up, inside and out. But especially her conscience—how could she bring this man inside and make love to him knowing full well she had a secret that might make him second-guess the decision to be with her in the first place?
Tell him. Tell him now. “Julian—”
“The problem is, I can’t stop thinking about you having an orgasm.” That confession was spoken directly on top of her mouth, her lips moving with his, as if they were forming the words together. “It was a problem before last night. But now . . . Hallie. Now?” His fingers moved between her thighs, massaging her through the thin material of her panties. Pulling the undergarment down hastily to the tops of her thighs and rubbing slowly, slowly—right there—with the heel of his hand. “Now I can’t go a full minute without feeling the way this thing fucking gripped me at the end.” His middle finger pressed deep, her mouth falling open on a silent moan. God, oh God. “I’m going to put you on my lap tonight. Your bra is going to be off. Gone. Burned, for all I care. And you’re going to ride cock.” Another finger joined the first, pumping in and out slowly, her breathy whimpers caught by nips of his lips. “I want to know how you feel from every single angle by tomorrow morning.”
Maybe . . . she should reveal herself as the secret admirer in the morning, then?
Breaths rasping together, he shoved her panties down another inch, fingers pushing deep, their bodies rattling the door in an attempt to get closer.
Wow, they really needed to get inside.
Her house was surrounded by trees and her nearest neighbor wasn’t close enough to witness her getting mauled on her porch, but it wasn’t unusual for Lavinia to drop by for a visit. Also, the mailman happening upon them was a very real possibility.
“Inside,” she sobbed when his teeth sunk into her earlobe.
“Yes.” He stooped down to pick up her keys, shoving one of them into the lock, cursing. Picking another one. And then finally they were stumbling into the dark of the cottage, the dogs going absolutely nuts at their heels, their barks happy at first, before turning sort of outraged over being ignored. “Hold on,” Julian said, drawing back and reaching into his pocket. He took out a balled-up napkin and unfolded it, revealing pieces of steak he hadn’t finished at lunch. “Here, boys.”
Hallie blinked as he laid down the strips of beef on the floor, replaced the napkin in his pocket, and captured her hand once again. “Did you plan that doggy bag diversion?”
“Yes. Believe me, I wanted to finish the whole steak.” His gaze raked over her face. “But I wanted a distraction more.”
“Diabolical,” she whispered. “We should get out of here before they finish. We have about four seconds.”
“Jesus.”
Julian started to drag her toward the bedroom, but she tugged him toward her backyard instead. Maybe since she couldn’t give him total honesty—not tonight, not when everything was so utterly perfect—she could give him this intimacy. Her personal garden. Her most private, intimate place. Even more so than the bedroom. On the way outside, she flipped the light switch and held her breath. Watching his face transform with awe when he stepped out through the screen door made Hallie’s pulse go haywire.
“This is where I spend most of my time,” she said, trying to see the space through his eyes. Wondering if it looked as magical to Julian as it always felt to her. Or if he viewed the towering greenery, jewel-toned lights, and wildflowers as an unplanned hodgepodge.
He circled the yard with narrowed eyes, as though taking the time to make a sound judgment. Hallie had a premonition that she would remember this moment for a long time, maybe forever. Julian Vos touring her backyard with a serious expression, professorial hands clasped behind his back, surrounded by rioting blooms and hanging vines while removing his coat, the sunset loving his bristly jaw and playing over the hill-and-shadow patterns of his muscles.
“What do you do out here with your time?”
Now she understood. When she’d informed him this was where she spent most of her time, that wire in his brain had lit up. The one that dissected minutes and hours and years, turned them into something scientific. “I have my meals out here. I read and garden and talk on the phone and play with the dogs.” She thought of the way he’d been exposed at lunch, his behind-the-scenes care of her revealed—and her lips started to tingle. “I think of you.”
