“How do you move so silently? You’re not exactly built like a ballerina.”
He chuckles under his breath. “Crawling around war zones with the enemy only meters away makes you quiet. Never fancied getting my brains blown out, so I worked hard on making sure these size fourteens,” he gestures to his feet, “were as quiet as mice.”
Size fourteen, hmm. I bet he’s hung like a horse.
Bloody hell, I tell myself, get your mind out of the gutter.
Back in the house, Lance flicks the kettle on. I excuse myself to take a shower.
“I’m sure you’ll want a cuppa when you get cleaned up,” he says. “I better be off.”
Our eyes meet, and I nod. “Okay. Thanks for a lovely night and your help with the animals.”
Words hang between us, unsaid.
Let him leave. It’s the right thing to do. He’s too young for you. He’s just a friend.
He turns for the door; I climb the stairs to the bathroom.
Stripping off, I toss my clothes into the wash basket. The smell hits like a punch. I crank the tap, and steam rises within seconds. I love my showers hot enough to peel skin.
Under the water, I close my eyes and let myself drift off. Tonight’s events run through my mind. Lance was a gentleman, flirty but not pushy, genuinely interested. He listened. It was refreshing.
He’s gorgeous. Strong. Masculine. Taut muscles defined under his shirt. I imagine his arms around me, his lips on my neck.
Lost in my dirty thoughts, my hand slides between my legs. I circle my clit; the other hand, slick with soap, moves over my breasts. My nipples harden under my touch. Arousal throbs through me, two fingers working inside, thumb pressing my clit.
In my head, it’s his hands. His mouth. All him. It shouldn’t be, but it is. There’s no harm in having a fantasy, I tell myself.
My orgasm builds fast. My hand moves quicker. The pleasure sharpens, and I break, coming hard, leaving me shaking. Crumpled under the spray—on my knees.
A girl can dream.
Dressed in my fluffy pink dressing gown and slippers, I pad downstairs in search of tea before bed. My hair is wrapped in a towel, my tablet in my hand as I scroll, trying to distract myself.
“Took your time,” the deep voice drawls as I hit the bottom step.
My head snaps up.
“Lance, I thought you’d gone home.” My eyes drop to my awful attire. My cheeks burn. “Why are you still here?”
“I’m here because I’m thirsty.”
I blink. “Thirsty? There’s water in the fridge.”
A slow, sinful smile spreads across his face. “That’s not the kind of drink I mean.” My stomach flips. “I was leaving, but something pulled me back. You’re the most amazing woman. Sexy as fuck. I couldn’t tear myself away.”
Two huge strides and he’s in front of me, strong hands cradling my face. Then his mouth is on mine, hungry. His tongue steals my breath. And his cock leaves no doubt about why he’s here.
He pulls back, his eyes roaming over me, and my skin tingles in their path. One finger hooks my robe belt and tugs. It falls open, exposing my naked body. Every curve, every bump, unshielded. I grab the edges of my robe, but his fingers stop over mine. We pause, standing, him holding it open.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs, slipping the robe off my shoulders. It falls to the floor in a pool of pink fluff.
He cups my breasts, and my nipples harden against his palms. I’m painfully aware of the contrast in our bodies. He’s ripped and hard, while I’m soft and full. I reach for his shirt buttons, but he seizes my fingers again.
“No, I want to enjoy the view first. You’re all woman.” He kisses my cheek, then leads me upstairs.
He sets his phone on top of my chest of drawers. For a second, I wonder if he’s changing his mind.