I’d been thinking about all the naughty things I wanted to do to her since the moment we first met.
But with Stephanie, I never wanted to risk pushing her too far. I didn’t want to take without asking and break the trust she had given me so willingly.
I wanted to earn her consent.
To know without a doubt that she wasn’t giving in to pressure.
I wanted to know that when I buried my cock inside her for the first time, it would be because she wanted me as much as I wanted her.
But Christ, waiting for that day was a fresh kind of torture.
Don’t get me wrong. I toyed with that line plenty, teasing her with pleasure to coax her toward the day she would let me all the way in. And this day was no different.
I bunched the fabric of her skirt in my hands, drawing it slowly upward, anticipating the scolding I would get when I took it too far.
But when my fingers found the hem of her dress, Stephanie’s lips just curled against mine, her smile coy and inviting.
“You want me to touch you right here? Where anyone could find us?” I teased, sliding my fingertips beneath the layers of fabric and tracing a provocative line up the inside of her thigh.
Air hissed between my teeth when I reached her apex—and felt the gloriously bare, silky skin of her folds.
“Why, Miss Winters,” I breathed against her lips, my cock rock-hard and pulsing with the need to be inside her. “I do believe you’ve misplaced your underwear.”
Stephanie nipped playfully at my lower lip, biting down just hard enough to make me groan.
Then she leaned back, her fingernails tracing soft circles at the nape of my neck as she looked up at me shyly.
“I know exactly where they are,” she murmured, her teeth sinking into her full lower lip. “I want you, Giovanni Chiaroscuro. Here. Now. And not even my panties are stopping you?—”
I cut her words short as I brought my mouth crushing down against hers, unable to hold back a second longer.
She arched into me, her hands clinging to the back of my neck, keeping our lips sealed as I made quick work of opening my belt and pants.
Then I scooped her up, wrapping her thighs around my hips as I stepped forward to press her back against the vine-covered trellis enclosing us.
“You never cease to amaze me,” I rasped as I guided my swollen tip to her slick entrance.
The thought of claiming her here, in her sacred place of refuge—not to mention in the middle of a public garden, where anyone could stumble upon us—brought every nerve in my body to life.
“Don’t hold back,” she begged, her breaths harsh and ragged against my skin.
And when I thrust inside her to the hilt, she buried her face against my neck to muffle the sound.
I’d never felt anything more euphoric than the thrill of making our bodies one—no barrier between us.
Just her hot, wet center welcoming me home.
11
JANE
The bell over the door rings, and I straighten from behind the counter where I’ve been repotting my newly propagated orchids.
“Welcome to Blossoms,” I say, dusting my hands off. “Let me know if you need help finding any…” My words die on my lips, my stomach dropping as I recognize the man who steps inside the glass door of my shop.
It’s the same creepy customer who came in asking for funeral flowers a few weeks ago.
And he looks eerily delighted to be back as he stalks straight for me this time.
