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“What did you do with the cheese?” Lance asks as he goes to the cupboard and pulls out two champagne flutes. We went down to the wine cellar when we came inside. I wanted to toast, just with him, to the night we’d celebrated.
“It’s in the pantry.” I chuckle. “You’ll be helping me cut it down into chunks tomorrow and storing it. Idiot.”
He tuts. “Not even a thank-you.”
I slide up onto the kitchen counter and wait for him to pass me, grabbing his shirt and pulling him close. He works his way into the space between my legs.
“I can think of a hundred ways to say thank you to you.”
“A hundred? Hmm, that could take us all night.”
“It’s three a.m.,” I mumble as he kisses my lips, staying close and making it hard to focus on him properly. “We’ll never manage it.”
His strong hands curve up and over my thighs, making my stomach coil tight. My eyes watch his hands, big and heavy, where they lie.
It’s seductive. Dominant. Just the right amount of pressure to make my clit throb against the lace of my underwear.
“The way you come alive under my touch makes my dick ache, sunshine.”
Biting my lip, I lift his right arm and remove his cuff link. Then I pop the buttons at his wrist and slowly roll back the sleeve, exposing his tanned skin. My fingers dust down the perfect smattering of hair coating his forearm, my thumb trailing a thick vein on the underside.
I move to start on the other sleeve, and he swallows, shifting from one foot to the other.
He seems to be just as turned on as I am. The bulge in his trousers, flush with my centre as he leans his torso back a little, leaving me room to enjoy my task.
I remove the cuff link and pop the buttons, ready to go through the same process, but as I roll back the sleeve of his shirt, I find the hair on his arm shaved.
“Did you know that ameadow of quivering aspensis the meaning of the name Waverley?”
“What?” I smile, looking up at him when his fingers reach to adjust the fallen strap of my dress.
“I was looking up ideas for my tattoo session this afternoon, thought of you, and then found out it’s the exact meaning of the name.”
“Are you going to tell me you’re getting some random chick’s name tattooed on you now becauseweonce had sex on the dock?” I grin, loving that he puts so much thought into these things. “I might get jealous, you know.”
He shrugs, watching his hand as he continues to toy with my dress strap.He’s nervous?“I liked that only you and I know what it really means.”
My body tenses. “Liked?” I look down at the shaved hair and then back up at him. “Tell me you didn’t get the name Waverley tattooed on your body.”
When he only shifts his eyes to mine, searching, I flip over the material at his wrist twice to find the fresh ink etched into his skin. My heart stops.
Vines. Pale-lavender-coloured vines dance across his skin, wrapping around his forearm like barbed wire before disappearing under his shirt. I keep going, rolling the material with shaking hands.
I push it up, forcing the material until it refuses to go any further past his elbow. In a rush, I fumble the buttons on his dress shirt before pulling it off his broad shoulders and away from his body. “Lance…”
At the end of the vine on his inner left bicep, Waverley is inked into his skin.
“A meadow of quivering aspens. You, that first time on the lake.”
“Oh my god.” I shake my head, bewildered, as I stare along the vines again. It’s fresh, and I don’t dare touch the broken skin. “Oh my god… I—I love it. It’s…” I look up and find him watching me with an intense fascination. His eyes dart around my face, then drop to the hand that holds his wrist. “You’re wild, Lance Sullivan. Completely and utterly wild.”
His chin lifts in knowing. “You love me wild.”
He takes my face and gently coaxes my lips into a kiss. My arms lock around his neck, deepening it as his hands lift me from the counter so that he can ease my dress to my waist. He works open his trousers before pulling himself out.
I’m slid to the edge of the counter, my underwear discarded, and then he’s cock in hand, trailing the thick head through my wetness.
I moan into his mouth, and he pulls back with a groan, biting my lip.
