“—I never want—”
“Emma,” Dan repeated, his lips curled into a smile.
“Yes?”
Dan reached down, tucked his finger under my chin, and tipped my face up until our eyes met again. “Is it all right if I kiss you now, or did you want to keep telling me how great I am? Because either one works for me.” He raised an eyebrow, still smiling. A cross between a snort and a chuckle erupted from my chest before I carefully wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed myself up onto my toes, just as his mouth covered mine.
Danesh Pednekar was a great cook. He was a gifted horticulturist. But as a kisser, Dan was pure magic. No kiss in my life had ever felt like this. Parts of my body that hadn’t tingled in months were on fire. I wasn’t sure if kissing him felt so good because he was so gorgeous, or because he smelled so good. Maybe I was still highfrom the painkillers. Plus, the fact that Dan tasted like blueberry muffins didn’t hurt, either. His lips were soft and welcoming but with an undercurrent of furious desire that made me wonder what he was holding back from me.
I parted our lips and whispered, “Are you okay?”
“I’m feeling pretty fucking fantastic, love.” He rubbed his nose over mine with a grin. “Are you okay? How’s your hand?”
“It’s fine. I wouldn’t say pretty fucking fantastic, but good.” Dan chuckled and kissed me again. “Why are you being so careful with me?”
He pulled back with a confused look.
“I’m sorry? Careful?”
“I mean, you’re kissing me like I’m going to shatter into pieces.”
“I’m not sure where I would have gotten that idea.” He held up my bandaged hand and quirked an eyebrow. “How should I be, if not careful with you?”
“Maybe I’m like your roses,” I whispered, dragging my lips across his. “Maybe I’m tougher than I look.”
“I have no doubt about that, Emma.” He pressed our bodies closer, his pupils widening into dark pools of lust.
“Then why don’t you show me?” I said in a husky whisper and tightened my arms around his neck.
“Bloody hell,” he whispered before grabbing me under my thighs to scoop me up, wrapping my legs around his waist, and kissing the hell out of me as he staggered through the row of vegetables and flowers, taking us deeper into the greenhouse. Finally, he deposited me onto an empty spot on one of the long wooden tables and pressed himself between my legs.
“What’s that?” I asked as I felt his calloused fingertips ghosting along the hem of my tank top.
“I thought that would be obvious, darling,” he said with a chuckle and pressed his hips further into the junction of my thighs. The thought of being able to investigate the very large and incredibly solid appendage that Dan was pressing between my legs was almost enough to distract me from what I was looking at, if it hadn’t immediately flooded my head with the conversation I overheard at the bakery. “Emma?”
“I already know what that is.” I gave him a sultry smirk. “I meant that.” I turned his face to see what had caught my eye. It was a large steel door with a keypad instead of a doorknob. Everything else on this farm—hell, in this town—looked like it was straight out of the 1970s, but in the back of this huge greenhouse, hidden in the woods, was the sort of door I’d only seen in the panic rooms of my highest-profile clients.
“That”—Dan’s heart raced against my chest—“is a door.” He smiled at me and waggled his eyebrows. I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes at him. He kissed me with a chuckle. “That room is filled with fertilizer and farm equipment.”
“You need a military-grade security door for farm equipment and fertilizer?” I asked skeptically.
“Well”—he sighed and kissed my neck, eliciting an involuntary moan—“farm equipment is very expensive, and fertilizer can be used for more than growing crops. It’s a security concern.” He painted my collarbone with his tongue.
“Can I see?” I was trying very hard to shift my focus away fromDan’s thumb brushing my breast as his lips moved to lavish the other side of my throat with attention.
“No,” he whispered and stood, pressing our foreheads together.
“No?” I repeated. “Why not? I’m the official owner of this farm, remember? Shouldn’t I be able to see everything that goes on here?” I swatted his hand away and crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at him.
“Of course you should.” He smiled at me and stroked my cheek. “But not tonight.” I opened my mouth to protest again, but he cut me off before I could speak. “It’s late. You’re healing. Plus, you’re not properly dressed. Once you open that door, the smell will cling to you like a wet blanket. You think you smelled bad yesterday—”
“Wait, you could smell me yesterday?”
He answered my question with a quick kiss on the lips. “That’s nothing compared to the stench a few tons of fertilizer can produce. I’m taking you home—back to the house,” he quickly corrected himself. “I’m gonna make you another sandwich with a pot of tea and one of Dr. Westlake’s magic pills, then you’re going to bed.”
“But—”
“This is not up for discussion.” Dan leaned forward and, in one fluid motion, tossed me over his shoulder and marched us out of the greenhouse. My curiosity about what lay behind that door only grew larger as I watched it disappear behind rows of plants.
