We both know he doesn’t want to see the bees. But from the way he’s gawking at my chest? Definitely wants to see my breasts. Everything else, too, by the way his eyes follow my hands.
Blinking, he clears his throat before tearing his eyes upward. “Daliah, I’m not the kind of man who fools around with women.”
I nod and keep pushing the dress down until it hits my ankles. “I’m the kind of woman who’s been pining after the same guy for over a year now. I’m in it for the long game.”
He chokes on his next breath. “Over a year?”
Now it’s my turn to look away as I fight to squirm. “Ever since the first time I saw you.”
He doesn’t let me drown in my embarrassment for long. No, he’s huffing as he moves straight for me. Basically stomping his way over, I’m suddenly squashed against his chest.
“All this time…” He wraps his arms around me, and there’s no breaking free. Not that I want to be anywhere else. “You’re telling me that I suffered all winter for nothing?”
So it wasn’t just me, huh? We were both dying on the inside because neither of us wanted to be the one to take the first step. All it took was the impatience and need to finally step over that line to get us to where we are now.
Lifting my hands and grazing his bearded cheeks, I get a little lost in his eyes. “We can just end the suffering here and now. All you’ve got to do is say—”
He doesn’t let me finish my sentence, opting to swoop down and kiss me instead. And thank God for that, because words have become useless. Completely useless. The only thing that matters is the press of his lips, the hot slide of his tongue, the way he pulls me impossibly closer like he’s trying to erase every atom of space between us.
When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard, and for a moment, neither of us moves. Neither of us speaks. Then, without warning, he bends.
One arm hooks behind my knees, the other braces my back, and suddenly I’m being lifted like I weigh nothing at all. A surprised squeak escapes me, and I grab onto his shoulders for dear life as he carries me the few steps to my bed.
He sets me down like I’m made of glass. Like I’m something precious. Something worth taking care of. The mattress dips under my weight, and I look up at him standing over me, backlitby the soft afternoon light filtering through my curtains, and I think my heart might actually burst.
Then he pulls his shirt off. The motion itself is simple. He grabs the hem and lifts, and suddenly I’m staring at the chest I’ve only ever imagined beneath those worn flannels and t-shirts. Broad shoulders. Defined muscles. A light dusting of hair that trails down his stomach and disappears beneath his waistband. He’s beautiful in a way that makes my throat tight.
That’s not even the most distracting part. It’s the fact that he’ssmiling.
The grumpiest man at the farmers’ market, the one who always looks like he’s seconds away from frowning at something, is standing in my bedroom, shirtless, smiling at me like I’m the reason for it.
I’m in love with him. So much. So completely. It terrifies me and thrills me in equal measure.
He catches me staring, and that smile deepens. His hands move to his jeans, working the button free with torturous slowness. The zipper rasps down, and then he’s shoving both jeans and boxers down his legs in one motion. His socks follow—he actually pauses to tug them off, and the mundane action amidst all this intensity makes me want to tilt my head back and laugh.
This is really happening. I’m giving myself to the man of my dreams.
When he straightens, he’s completely bare, and I can’t look away.
He’s hard. Even though I shouldn’t stare, I can’t help myself. Not when I’ve never seen a cock before. Swollen thick from the base down to the tip, it’s the slick red head that has my mouth watering.
He’d already gotten a taste of me. Will there be a time when I’ll get to taste him, too? Pushing to try now may be too much, but another time, I swear I’ll do it.
His eyes drop to my underwear—a simple cotton pair, nothing fancy, but the thin strip is still soaked. To the point of being invisible, I feel naked without taking them off. Still, he nods at them like he wants them gone.
I hook my thumbs into the waistband and peel them down my legs, kicking them onto the floor. Parting my thighs, he growls in response. My sex clenches immediately while I question my hearing.
I like it when he growls. I like it a lot.
He moves onto the bed, settling over me, bracketing my body with his arms. His skin is warm against mine, and the weight of him, all that bulk and muscle, makes me feel safe in a way I didn’t know was possible.
Right now, all I want to do is wrap my limbs around him and tug him completely against my front. Even if he swallows up my body, heck,crushesme, I wouldn’t mind one bit.
He makes it impossible to do anything when he suddenly grinds his hips against mine, sliding his cock along my folds. He’s especially hot down there. The contact is searing, and the friction makes my toes curl tightly.
“I’ve always had a hard time focusing at the farmers’ market,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear before he’s placing a light kiss against my throat. Then, he shifts lower. Enough to make a breathless laugh slip past my lips.
“And here I thought you hated me this whole time.”
