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Dax whips his head around and reaches for my hand, his other still holding the wine bottle.
We get to our feet and start to run, but I stop when we’re halfway there. “The cheese!”
Dax drops my hand and passes me the wine bottle. “Here.” He reels around and sprints back toward the blanket.
But he doesn’t just grab the cheese.
His arms reach for the four corners of the picnic blanket. Gathering them together, he sweeps it over his shoulder like a sack, then grabs the basket with his other hand and runs back to meet me. We make it all the way to the gazebo before the next boom of thunder cracks above us.
I’m soaked down to my underpants. Dax is so wet he’s got raindrops dripping off the end of his nose. He sets the blanket down in the middle of the gazebo. Our poor little picnic—decimated by rain.
“Thank you for saving the cheese.” I manage a straight face.
Dax holds up the half-wrapped wheel, also soaked.
The rain is sputtering all around us.
“I’m sorry our picnic was ruined,” he says, and I can tell by the way his chest deflates and his shoulders drop that he means every word.
“I think this is even better.” I sink down onto the soaking-wet blanket beside him. “We’re in a gazebo, in the middle of a rainstorm. This is one of my top three romantic fantasies.”
Dax raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Is that right? What are the other two?”
“Meeting a handsome stranger at a masquerade ball. And the lift fromDirty Dancing. We can try that one later once we finish the wine. Make it a two-outta-three kind of night.”
Dax smiles, relaxing a little. “I had a whole plan.”
“Tell me about it.”
Dax looks back wistfully at our picnic. “We were going to eat, maybe drive up the mountain and look at the city lights, and then head to my place for more wine.”
“Where we’d have hot sex on a bearskin rug in front of a fire? Because that’s a solid number four on my list.”
Dax laughs. “My rug is from IKEA, and my fireplace isn’t functional.”
“I have a very good imagination.”
Dax looks around the gazebo. The rain falls like a curtain around us and makes a soft pitter-patter sound on the roof.
“This is pretty romantic.” I inch a little closer, bringing my hands to his chest. “And your shirt is kind of see-through.”
His eyes drop to my chest. “So is yours.”
He brings his index finger to my chin and tips my head up ever so slightly so that I’m looking up at him as he places the softest, most chaste kiss on my lips. The effect it has on my body is not chaste. Quite the opposite. It sends a blazing heat from my mouth all the way to the tips of my toes.
I kiss him again, but this time, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull his body tight to mine. Our tongues intertwine, and he lets go of a low little growl that comes right from his chest, and it has me wondering if it would be so terrible to shed all of ourclothes and have sex right here. The cement floor doesn’t bode well for comfort, but with the rain flowing down around us, turning everything outside of our little bubble into one big gray blur, it’s pretty idyllic.
“You’re shivering.” He runs the pads of his fingers down my arms, giving me goosebumps.
“I’m usually a fair-weather maker-outer. Not used to the elements.”
Dax pulls me in tight, bringing me closer to the heat of his chest.
“So I’m at a disadvantage already. Guess I better up my game if I’m going to make this night memorable.”
He brings his mouth to mine. A slow, soft press that deepens as his tongue parts my lips. For a moment I forget everything. The rain. The cold. Every kiss that came before this one. As if none of it matters but him and me and this moment.
When he finally pulls away, I feel the loss immediately. I mourn it and the feeling sends an involuntary shudder down my spine.
