The dark need inside her had her gripping on tight and kissing him with all the urgency inside her.
Their bodies thumped. The bed rocked. When he eased his hand between them and settled his fingertip over her clit, her entire focus narrowed to the throbbing point.
She tossed her head back with a cry. He pressed down, gently at first, then with the firm pressure she craved.
“Oh god! Crew!” A wave swept her up, and she began to climb again, fast and sharp.
He slammed his mouth over her pulse point, delivering a tender pull of his lips that warred with the pressure he applied to her clit.
Crew’s movements grew jerky, his restraint vanishing as he neared his own peak. They clung to each other as they both lost their grip.
Fern came first, the tight knot in her core shuddering apart in long waves. Crew claimed her mouth as he splintered in her hold, muscles tightening and then going limp as he poured his release into her.
She drank him in, eyes closed, locking him to her as they rode the final waves in each other’s arms. Whatever was happening between them, it went beyond anything she felt before. If she was honest, it started when Crew came to the rescue of her fallen plants. Then he was a helpful and easygoing landscaping assistant, a person she could talk to easily without pressure.
And he was the guy who didn’t mind how badly she sang and carried her purse around without one iota of embarrassment.
When she panicked over the mug left in the sink, he saw that it was more than a mug and was sweet and soothing.
As soon as she voiced the fear someone was following her, his easy warmth vanished, replaced by a sharp, focused calm that wrapped around her like a shield. It was unsettling—and undeniably attractive.
How could she not feel herself beginning to fall for him?
For long minutes, they lay tangled up. When he rolled off, he drew her close. She rested her head on his hard pec and closed her eyes.
Fern always thought people exaggerated when they said time disappeared during sex. Turned out, she’d been doing it wrong.
When she opened her eyes, Crew was watching her with that quiet, unreadable focus that always made her feel completely seen. His thumb traced slow, absent circles along her arm, like he was making sure she was real too.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
She tipped her chin up, meeting his gaze. “More than okay.”
A corner of his mouth lifted with the boost to his ego. “Good to hear.”
She issued a throaty laugh, fitting herself more snugly against him, and felt his chest rise with a deep breath. “You realize,” she said, voice lazy and loose, “we just shattered my entire belief system about midday activities.”
He huffed a low laugh. “Didn’t strike you as the rigid schedule type.”
“Oh, I am.” She gazed up at him. “Lunch is sacred. Naps are earned. This?” She gestured vaguely between them. “This was…”
His hand slid to her back, warm and firm. “Sexy. Satisfying. Something I’ll remember.”
Her heart jogged at his tender praise. Their gazes held for five beats too long.
Feeling the need to lighten the mood, she joked, “I can’t believe you said that with a straight face.”
His teeth flashed with his smile. “I can multitask.”
She shook her head, smiling into his chest. She traced one of his tattoos, following the lines she was still shocked he kept hidden.
“Hey,” he said after a moment, voice taking on a serious tone. “There’s something I want to ask you.”
Her fingers stilled. She lifted her head enough to meet his expression. “Okay.”
“I want you to let me drive you. To estimates. New jobs. Anywhere you don’t know the people yet.” He hesitated, then added, “I’ll stay out of your way. I just want you safe.”
The warmth didn’t vanish—but it changed. She studied his face, the careful way he’d framed the request and the restraint threaded through the words.
