Page 26 of Where Love Lies

“Shit!” I drop my head back, then palm my face. “I don’t have a shovel.” We lived in the city, where there was no digging of any kind.

“I got you covered.” Heston hands me the flowers and pulls a shovel from the bed of the truck, slinging it over his shoulder. Heston gone construction worker is definitely a turn-on and now I wish I bought every shrub Olive had.

He strikes the rich soil with the pointed tip of the blade, lifts his foot to the kickplate, and thrusts the spade into the ground.

“Here good?”

“Let me look.” Placing the plants down, I hurry to the middle of my yard, looking at my house and where he is.

“Hmm, a little more toward the door. I want them on each side of the walkway.” I point my finger for him to move inward about two feet.

“Here?”

“Perfect!”

He tugs the shovel from the ground, leaving a disrupted pile of dirt, and steps over two feet, right where I told him.

He thrusts the spade back into the ground and tosses the dirt to the side with ease. For a man who lives in the city, he knows his way around with a shovel pretty well. Grabbing the pots, I drop to my knees in front of the overturned earth and eye the side of the plastic container, looking for where I should cut it for the roots to grow.

“Here, use this.” Heston drops a pocketknife next to my foot, before moving on to dig the next hole. I lift it, immediately noting its weight. Caressing the hard black handle, I run my thumb underneath, looking for a way to open it. Feeling the liner lock, I press into it, and the blade swings out. The stainless steel is shiny and intimidating, making me flinch. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I throw a prayer to God that I don’t cut my finger off and press the edge of the blade to the plastic pot. It slices through like butter, without any pressure. I do it again on the other side, then to the other pot next to me.

Heston falls to his knees, grabs the shrub, and gently lowers it into the hole. Forcing the blade back into its place, I hand him the knife.

He slips it into his pocket, then uses both hands to grab the loose dirt and fit it around the plant. A low crack booms from the sky, followed by a low tide of rumbles. The clouds are near black. The sun has been swallowed whole. A raindrop falls on my hand, then another on my head, instantly soaking me.

“Shit, we better hurry.” Scrambling to stand up, I hurry to the next hole with Heston right behind me. Placing the pot into the hole in the ground, I position it just right. The rain comes down heavier. A flash of lightening illuminates the sky. We scoop the dirt and throw it in the hole, covering the roots as it turns to mud in our hands.

“That’s good!” I yell over the storm. We run to the front door and dart inside, both soaked with mud on our hands and arms. Mother Nature is angry—and she’s taking it out on anything within reach. Turning around, back against the door, Heston stares at me, his eyes hooded. His wet hair drips onto his face. His shirt clings to his chest and outlines his toned stomach. I know that look. The way he’s standing. Taking a step forward, he rushes me, grabbing the side of my face. His thumb just under my chin, he turns his head to the side and presses his thin lips along the damp skin of my neck. The cool air kisses the droplets slipping down my spine, heightening my senses. My muddy palms slide to his face as dirty water drips down his jaw, making him come off sexier. A low heat burns in my core. I moan into his mouth, running my fingers through his thick hair. Soft curls coil around my fingertips. He grabs the hem of my shirt and pulls it off, leaving my hair to fall into my eyes. His head falls between my breasts. His tongue slides along my skin, licking up the beads of rain. It feels so good. Too good. I cradle his head, feeling him lick and nip the valley between my boobs. My nipples harden as my lower half pulses.

We stumble back onto the stairs, my elbows on the third step, my knees spread. Heston kneels between them and grabs the nape of my neck, his eyes almost black.

“Wait—should we—”

I shake my head. “No, don’t stop. I can’t get pregnant.” Hearing me say it out loud hurts as much now as it did the day I was told that very thing. I had to have an ovary removed because of a tumor and the other one was so scarred, they said it would be a one in a million chance. I predict my scarring is from Cam. All the times he would hit and kick me in the stomach had to land somewhere and I think it was my ovary. Thunder cracks. A flash of lightening brightens the whole house. I sweep my hands under his wet shirt and pull it over his head, running my hands back down his chest and abs. I dig my nails in, and his eyes clinch shut. I grip his hips, my damp hair framing my face and falling into my eyes, as I lean in to nip just above his belly button. He presses his hands into my hair as my lips explore his happy trail. I stop at the button and zipper of his jeans, and look up him, meeting hooded, blue eyes sharp with desire. I tug the wet denim down his legs, and he helps kick them off with his shoes. Pulling back his briefs with my finger, his lengthy cock springs free, almost hitting me in the face. It’s skinny but long. I flick the tip with my tongue, and his knees wobble. He likes it.

“You don’t have to do that.” His voice is low and husky.

“But I want to.” My breathing heavy, I slip him into my mouth. His soft skin glides along my tongue, filling my mouth with the salty taste of his skin. I close my eyes, taking him as deep as I can before I gag and pull off. My eyes teary, my mouth watering, I watch him stroke himself with the spit I left behind. He suddenly drops to his knees and unzips my shorts, jerking them down to my feet. I step out of them, my shoes still on, and he grabs my hips, flipping me to where my stomach is now facing the stairs and my ass is up in the air. I grasp the step above me, shuddering at his warm hand caressing my left butt cheek that’s peeking out from under my white lace panties.

“Damn, you have a perfect ass.” He growls. I toss my hair out of my face and peek over my shoulder at him. I was sure I lost my ass after I had Paige but to hear him say it makes me feel better.

He smacks my ass, the sound filling the room seconds before I feel the sting. My head snaps up, and my eyes roll back. Every touch, look, and kiss take me closer to the edge nothing but impulsive thoughts to lead my next move. The only thing I can think of is his cock inside me. He gently hooks a finger on each side of my panties and slides them to my knees, leaving my core practically dripping with need. He unhooks my bra, loosening it and causing it to slip down my arms until it rests at my wrists. I feel heat along the skin of my back as his chest claims by body, his hand slipping underneath kneading my breast. It feels so good to be touched, to be wanted. My whole body pulsates. I push myself into him, telling him exactly what I need. Getting the hint, he positions himself right at my opening. On my stomach, staring at the dusty stairs, Heston finally thrusts inside me. My mouth parts on a low gasp as he stretches and fills me. I’m so tight, it almost hurts, but it feels so good at the same time. He pulls out then drives back in, and a moan escapes my lips. He grunts, grabbing my breast harshly as he fucks me faster and faster, taking me to the brink of ecstasy. I try to fight it, not wanting it to end so quickly, but warmth blossoms in my core, telling me I’m about to free fall.

“Shit.” He growls, pumping faster and tensing up. He’s about to come too.

“Do it,” I beg, so we both get what we so desperately need.

One hand on my shoulder, the other on my hip, he becomes more and more aggressive, and my whole body detonates. The sounds of me coming are his undoing. He follows seconds later, jerking inside me, our breathing louder than the storm abusing Fairview just outside the house.

He steps back, and I notice for the first time how sweaty I am. I flip over, so I can face him. He stares back, his cock hanging fully erect, his chest rising and falling. He doesn’t speak, and neither do I. Instead, I pull my panties up and search for my shirt, snatching it off a step.

Thunder shakes the walls, and the windows rattle. I stand up, looking out the window. Rain penetrates the ground, splashing the freshly disturbed dirt onto the flowers.

I cross my arms, feeling suddenly cold.

“So, what should we do now? We have all night.” Heston smiles, now leaning against the kitchen counter. His unbuttoned jeans are slung low on his hips, showing his briefs. His chest is shirtless, allowing every outlined muscle to be admired.

“Food,” I say, walking toward him, my stomach nearly growling.

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