Page 75 of Most Likely to Fear Love

I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in years. “I stand corrected.”

“Mmm, I like being right,” Harle teased.

I ran my hand over his chest. “Yeah, I don’t hate it. So, since this works out so well, can I fuck you in your sleep?”

“You sure can. As long as you wake me up before you’re done. Watching you come is my new favorite show.”

He caught my hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing my palm. The gesture was surprisingly tender, and I felt a flutter in my chest that had nothing to do with what we’d just done.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” I asked, trying to distract myself from the dangerous path my thoughts were taking.

“Yard work in the morning for me. You can do what you like. Then in the afternoon we can take a walk around the lake. I’ve got just the outfit for you.”

“I’m not walking around the lake in a slinky nightgown!”

“Why not?”

“Someone’ll see me.”

“No they won’t. There’s no one for miles up or down the lake. It’s private property.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Private property, owned by whom?”

“Me.”

Now I was blinking at him, bemused. “You own hundreds of acres of lake front property?”

“Yep. I like the quiet and it was the only way to get it.”

Not that I was a real estate expert, but I was pretty sure that you wouldn’t get much change from a few million dollars for that much land. How had he afforded that as a handyman? I wanted, desperately, to ask him, but knew that would be going too far. So instead, I said, “I guess you’d better show me this outfit, then.”

“I guess I’d better.”

I pushed myself up onto my elbows, watching Harle climb from the bed and stride across the room. It was hard to tear my eyes away from that muscular body, but I managed to drag my gaze upwards to his face. He caught me looking and winked, causing a delicious flutter deep in my belly.

Opening his wardrobe, he grabbed a pair of jeans and shucked them on, then a tight black tee.

Then he retrieved what had to be the most daring outfit yet – a barely-there red nightgown that caught the morning light like liquid fire. The matching knickers were little more than wisps of lace, and black suspenders completed the ensemble.

“Come here,” he commanded softly.

My legs were still shaky as I slid from the bed. I stood before him, completely naked, fighting the urge to cover myself as his gaze traveled slowly over my body. The heat in his eyes made my skin tingle.

Harle lifted the nightgown, gathering it in his hands. “Arms up,” he murmured. The silk whispered against my skin as he slid it down over my body, his knuckles grazing my sides.

Then he sat on the edge of the bed, drawing me between his legs. “Lift your foot,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. I placed my hand on his broad shoulder for balance, the muscle warm and solid beneath my palm as I raised my left foot.

Harle rolled the stocking with careful precision, gathering the silk between his fingers. The material whispered against my skin as he guided it up my calf, past my knee, his knuckles grazing my thigh. My breath hitched at the intimate touch.

“Other foot.” His command was soft but firm. I shifted my weight, grateful for the anchor of his shoulder as he repeated the process with the second stocking.

The suspender clips made tiny snapping sounds as he fastened them, first the front, then reaching around to secure the back. His touch was methodical, almost reverent, each small adjustment sending shivers across my skin.

When he finished with the last clip, his hands slid up the backs of my thighs, coming to rest on my ass.

“Pancakes?”

I blinked twice as his question pushed through the haze in my mind. “Oh, um, for breakfast do you mean?”

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