It wasn’t about ignoring red flags at this point. They simply didn’t exist to me. Couldn’t. Not when everything about him supercharged my senses and made me feelrevered.
With a smoothness that belied his job description, he urged us into a waltz.
Flinging my head back, I laughed, the sound pealing around us like a song of our own making that began to fade as he stole my laughter and replaced it with an awareness that had my skin prickling in reaction.
When I caught sight of our reflection in the ceiling panels that housed mirrors, I whispered into the silence, “We look hot together.”
The peace zoomed in on the connection that arced between us. A connection that tangled hope with need and sent shivers down my spine.
He half-purred, “Wearehot together.”
Those clever fingers of his released mine so they could trickle over my shoulders. Wherever he touched, heat stirred. The pads of his fingertips seemed to spark with a power I’d never felt before. One that didn’t stun me, just filled me with a need I’d read about in books but had never experienced for myself.
My breath caught with every stroke, and my heart stuttered as electricity built between us, enough that I figured we could generate our own light—enough to illuminate this behemoth.
“Ah,bedda mia, what you do to me.”
My core clenched at his rumble.
His hands ghosted over my biceps, and I leaned into his touch, needing the connection,the collision.
He didn’t laugh, just sucked in a sharp breath of his own.
When I found myself being guided to one of the French doors, I blinked in surprise. He’d plunked me into a daze, one where only he and I existed, where the world faded into nothing.
I had to assume he had a plan or I’d definitely pout over him breaking whatever magic he’d woven back there.
He unlocked the door by pressing his thumb to an electronic lock.
When I stepped onto the stone balcony, a brisk but balmy breeze had my skirt fluttering, and the scent of honeysuckle perfumed the evening air.
“That’s so beautiful,” I announced as I took in the sight of his gardens.
Below us, a dense copse of woods overshadowed a huge koi pond. A small fountain, well, small for the size of the freakin’ lake up ahead, spouted water into the air at least twenty feet high.
When he stepped behind me, his arms sliding around my waist before settling at the center of my abdomen, I asked, “You really live here?”
“I really do.” He pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “You smell good.”
“It’s soap.”
“No, it’syou.” He inhaled, then sighed like my scent alone made him happy.
“Thank you for showing this to me,” I whispered, not wanting to break the moment. The closeness between us.
It felt like he never wanted to let me go.
And I never wanted him to let go of me either.
My eyes closed when he swayed with me to our silent orchestra.
“Do you know why I did?”
“What? Showed me the lake? Because you think I have a fish fetish?”
Chortling, he drawled, “Do you?”
“Aren’t you lucky that I don’t?”
