48
LOUISE
At the mansion,I insisted on checking on the plants before we did anything else. But they seemed to have survived the move just fine: they were shooting up and we were nearly ready for the final phase, where they’d flower. Maybe, just maybe, we could still pull this off.
Sean took me by the hand and led me up the staircase, both of us watching carefully for rotten planks. I hadn’t even gone upstairs when I rented the place: I’d only been interested in whether there was room to grow. Now I looked around in wonder at the antique wallpaper and the wood paneling. It was a beautiful place, even if it was in an appalling state. With enough work, it could make a great home for someone.
Then Sean pushed open a set of double doors and I just stopped and stared in amazement.
The master bedroom was missing nearly all of the glass in its windows, but the holes had been sealed with cardboard and the summer weather meant it wasn’t too drafty. The roof was intact and even the floor seemed to be solid. But none of that mattered.
What mattered was the bed.
It was a huge four poster built out of dark, varnished wood. There were no drapes but it was easy to imagine them hanging down from the thick cross-beams. And lying ready on the bed springs was the mattress from the grow house.
“I mean, y’know…” Sean sounded embarrassed. “I know there’s no sheets or anything. But...I thought you’d like it.”
“Ilove it!”I yelled and dived on, bouncing on my back on the mattress. Even without drapes, being on the bed was like being in a separate little room, intimate and magical. It didn’t matter that there were cracks in the room’s plaster and peeling paint:instant princess!And along with all the innocent, little-girl dreams that brought back, a few full-on adult ones swam into my mind. This was the sort of bed you didn’t so muchmake loveon asgot ravishedon.
Sean joined me on the bed, but even as he reached for me, I jumped up and crossed the room, hungry to explore. There was a huge, silvered mirror hanging on the wall opposite the bed. Like the bed, it must have been too big or too much trouble to move when Mrs. Baker left. And next to it was a free-standing closet taller than me—taller even than Sean. You could have driven a small car through its huge, polished doors. I ran my fingers over the dark wood in wonder and then opened it up, just to see how big it was.
And found the dress.
It was emerald green with a low-cut, almost square neckline and a long, flaring skirt. A dress that was so simple and classic it could have passed for anything from medieval gown to modern day red carpet. I had no idea how old it was—twenty years, fifty, more? I sniffed it, but it didn’t smell musty at all. I turned around holding it, to show Sean.
He was kneeling up on the bed and looking at me in a very strange way. “What?” I asked, glancing down at the dress in case there was a killer spider or something crawling up it.
“Put on the dress,”he ordered. His voice was actually strained with lust—I could hear it in every silver-edged, panty-melting Irish syllable.
I swallowed and looked at the dress, excited but uncertain.
He tilted his head to one side and gave me adon’t make me come over therelook.
I took the dress and hurried out into the hallway. It felt wrong to change in front of him and spoil the effect. Whoever the dress had been made for, she’d had the same hips as me, but slightly smaller boobs. Fastening up the eyelets on the back of the dress made it lift and squeeze everything together and—well, there was a lot of cleavage on display. Or perhaps that was the idea.
Barefoot—because sneakers didn’t feel right—I looked like some princess stealing out of the castle to see her secret lover...or possibly a maid, summoned to the king’s bedchambers, I couldn’t decide. “Close your eyes,” I told Sean as I opened the door.
When I walked in, he was sitting up on the bed with his hand over his eyes. I took a second just to admire him: his soft, glossy black hair, the hard line of his jaw with its rough stubble, those lips that could snarl or grin or kiss the hell out of you, but were never cruel. Those shoulders, solid as rock and smoothly tan. The forearms, dense with muscle and thickly veined, and those hands that looked as if they could crush rocks.
“Open them,” I whispered. I was suddenly nervous—did I just look stupid?
All my reservations were blown away with the very first look he gave me. “Sweet Jesus,” he croaked. He’d given me the full heat of those Irish eyes before, but this was beyond that, beyond just sex. He wasentranced.It felt as if he was drinking in every detail, as if I was some priceless piece of art. And there’s no feeling like that in the world.
He got off the bed and strode towards me. Without words, he stripped his tank top off over his head and tossed it away. I tried to look up into his eyes but I was suddenly having a hard time tearing my gaze away from that tanned, sculpted chest. He was breathing slow but deep and, when I finally managed to look up, the look in his eyes was almost primal. Sure, I was some piece of art...one he had to have.Right. Now.
He came closer and closer, close enough that he could put hishands on my waist. He touched me almost gingerly: not as if he was scared, more as if he knew that, once he touched me, his self-control was going to disappear very, very fast. I’d never seen him so turned on, soanimal.It would have been scary, if it had been anyone else. But I knew he’d never hurt me or do anything I didn’t want him to. And that made it just incredibly hot.
“You...” he said, his breathing so harsh now that he almost had trouble getting the words out. “Look…” He shook his head as if, in his eyes, words couldn’t do me justice. He ran his hands up the dress, following the bodice as it went in and then out, staring at my neckline. Those powerful fingers moved closer, closer….
“Wait—are you thinking about ripping it off me?” I asked.
His thumbs stroked the point where the fabric met the sides of my cleavage as if to say,Fuck yes.I started to rapidly melt, but: “Don’t rip it,” I said quickly. “It’s not ours. You can do anything else, but don’t rip it.”
Out of nowhere, a twist of dark heat darted straight down my body and exploded in my groin. I really liked the way that sounded. So I said it again. And this time, I threw into me.“You can do anything else to me.” Another twist of heat, even stronger than before.
Sean tilted his head to one side questioningly. His eyes widened and he mouthedLouise!looking mock-shocked. But then his lips twisted into a dark, knowing grin.
I swallowed. My mind was swimming back to those historical romances I used to read, where the heroines wore dresses not so different from this one. I’d started to breathe fast and, every time I panted, my breasts lifted. With the tight dress, low neckline and no bra, there was a lot of...well,heaving.
