Page 34 of More With You

SUMMER

“I’m jealous,” Ben admits, sipping his coffee. I suggested we take our drinks outside, to give the AC a chance to cool down the cottage. It’s hot enough in there when I’ve forgotten to leave it on, but it’s almost suffocating with Ben wandering around in that flimsy white t-shirt, touching everything but me.

I glance up at him. “Why?”

“If I’d known this place was on the market, I’d have snapped it up.” He doesn’t look down at me: his gaze fixed enviously on the bend of the starlit water at the bottom of my garden. There’s a blue heron in the reeds opposite, equally engrossed in the rippling current as it watches and waits, still as a statue, for its dinner to come close enough.

I chuckle. “Tough. It’s mine, and I’m not giving it up for anything. They’ll have to drag me out, kicking and screaming.”

“What’s the rent like?”

I shrug. “Just within my means.” I don’t mention that it might’ve tipped over the top end of my budget, now that my grandma’s bills have skyrocketed. “I have an arrangement with the landlord, so he doesn’t raise it. Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without this little piece of paradise.”

“An arrangement?” Ben is suddenly looking at me with an eyebrow raised. It’s not an expression of amusement, but genuine concern.

I rest my hand on his shoulder, leaning into him. “Relax. It’s not that kind of arrangement. It’s contractual.”

“You’re not making it sound any better.” He turns me to face him: his fingertips lightly gripping my arms. It’s not painful or possessive but comforting. I’ve never had a guy watching out for me before.

“We both signed an agreement that says he can’t increase the price for five years,” I explain, smiling wider in the face of his obvious unease. “Back then, I figured I’d be gone in six months, but… I’m finding more and more reasons to want to stay here.”

He breathes out a small sigh. “Am I one of them?”

“I’m still figuring that out,” I tease, toying with the hem of his t-shirt.

A smile coaxes up the corners of his lips. “I should get you to sign a contract to say you won’t run until you’ve met Grace. At the very least, that you won’t run without a goodbye.”

“I don’t feel like running anymore,” I confess, my skin tingling as his hands smooth down my arms and find my waist. “My legs are tired.”

His eyes glitter like the starshine on the water, harboring sweet mischief. “Is that so?”

A gasp squeezes from my throat as he sinks to his knees, setting his coffee mug down. His hands follow his descent, caressing inward and over my stomach. His touch pauses at the curve of my hips, pulling me closer. I don’t know where to look, as his lips press to the spot just below my bellybutton.

His head tilts, and he maps a path of teasing kisses from one hip to the other. His exploration leads him down my thigh, his hands coming up to cradle the lean muscle, while his thumb massages deep circles. I don’t know if this would be sanctioned in a physio clinic, but it’s already making me feel lighter on my feet. All the aches of split-shift after split-shift are draining away at the pressure of his touch and his kiss, though I’m panting like I’ve run half a marathon.

“I was taught you’ve got to kiss where it hurts,” he murmurs, stealing an upward glance. As our eyes meet, he grins. “So, tell me, where else does it hurt?”

I gulp, knowing exactly where I want to feel his kiss. But I can’t say it. “My… knees.”

“Your knees? We can’t have that.” He chuckles and I’d be mortified if his laughter didn’t make my heart so giddy. I don’t have to pretend with him. I don’t have to be the femme fatale or the blonde bombshell. He knows more about me than anyone, now, and he’s still here, smiling and laughing.

He reaches up and takes the coffee mug from my hands. I’m not sure what that means, but it’s better than trying to feel sensual with a spill hazard in my grasp. The last thing I want is to spill hot coffee on him while he’s… well, doing what he’s doing.

Obstacles removed, Ben slowly undoes the buttons of my maxi-dress. His eyes don’t leave mine: my breath snatched away by the intensity of his gaze. Desire brims in those dark blue pools, turned black by the night.

As his mouth grazes my inner thigh, the delicious shiver of it nearly buckles my knees. Maybe they do need some tending to, after all, if they’re that weak in his presence. Fortunately, at that moment, his strong, rough hands slide up the back of my thigh to steady me. The friction tickles and tingles, all at once, and I swallow down a gasping breath.

I feel him smile against my skin, his kisses making their way down to that pesky knee. If I thought it was hot in my cottage, I clearly didn’t know that the universe was about to crank up my internal thermometer to boiling point. My senses are alight, my blood singing, my skin burning in the most remarkable way, like his passion has triggered a delirious fever inside of me.

“Does that feel better?” he breathes, placing a sweet kiss on my knee.

I nod. “Much better.”

“I should be thorough.” He traces his tongue up the inside of my thigh, punctuating each new discovery with a sensual kiss that trails his lips across my trembling skin.

My breath catches in my throat as his kiss whispers closer to the lilac lace of my underwear. I hope he knows I wasn’t anticipating this. Otherwise, my bra would match. But coordination is the last thing on my mind as his teeth nip lightly at the lace, and my hands are in his hair, running my fingertips through his silky locks. I don’t know what else to do with them, but this feels nice. It all feels nice. More than nice.

For a split-second, I think about the neighbors, while his fingertips hook under the band of my panties. Then, I remember where I am, in the garden of my own secluded inlet, where no one can see a thing. Even if they could catch a glimpse… well, shame on them.

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