“I know you’re a badass, but no one will see. Get down here.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
I heard the growl, but he did it, mirroring my position. He didn’t ask again what I wanted because he saw it immediately.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
His voice sounded a bit gruff when he said, “Yeah.”
“I would have very much liked to have known your sister.”
His head turned and there was a look in his eyes that settled quite happily in my chest. “You were raking?”
“Yes. It’s hard work.”
“I’ll help you.”
“Maybe I should put on more hot chocolate while you rake.”
Mischievousness moved over his features and then he moved so fast, grabbing me around the waist before he dropped me right into the middle of the pile of leaves I had yet to bag.
“I can’t believe you ruined my pile,” I screeched.
He grinned, the sight making my heart sing, and then he reached for the rake and said, “That’s a good look on you.”
Later that night we were working. We’d spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning up the yard. We even took a break for hot chocolate and a slice of pie.
Janice’s was busy and after a day of yard work, I was dragging.
“Hey, darling.”
Mic walked by with a rack of glasses. “Hi, Mic.”
“Take a break. You haven’t stopped since you arrived. I’ll bring you a soda.”
He was right. I hadn’t taken a break because the place was crazy tonight. I didn’t take a seat, feared I wouldn’t be able to get up again, but I did stand near the fill station. Mic brought me a soda then rested his elbows on the bar. “You liking Deadwood?”
“Very much. Madge cornered me the other day and twisted my arm into participating in the reenactment.”
“Have you ever done one?”
“No.”
“It’s fun, something you should do at least once.”
“So you’re a veteran.”
“I’ve done several and if you’re doing this one I might have to give Madge a call.”
I was so excited at the idea of having someone I knew doing it with me that I reached for his arm in my excitement. “You totally should.”
It felt like heat boring a hole in my back. I glanced over my shoulder to see Damian leaning up against the wall, but his attention was completely on me.
Mic asked, “How long have you and…” He lifted his chin in the direction of Damian “…been married.”
“Three years.” That was how many years we were married in the fake life I had made up that first day. It seemed smart to stick to that even though Damian was sure no one would care.
“I wouldn’t have thought that long. The man hasn’t taken his eyes off you.”
Damian hadn’t taken his eyes off me? I couldn’t keep my eyes off him so it seemed fair.
“Still feels like we’re newlyweds.” I felt his comment needed a reply.
The smile he flashed me was pure sex. “I believe that.”
I felt Damian before I heard him. Turning in time to see the expression on his face. I was momentarily speechless because he wasn’t just pissed. He looked like he was going to kill someone. And since I knew from firsthand experience he was more than capable of killing someone with his bare hands, I put up my hand as he approached. He could have walked right through me to get to Mic, the target of his malice, but he stopped as soon as my palm hit his muscled chest. His eyes jerked to me.
“Mic and I were just discussing how it still feels like we’re newlyweds. Isn’t that right, baby?”
I would sell my soul to the man depicted on Damian’s back to know what he was thinking because the heat that fired in his eyes was arousing. The accompanying chills that moved through me became visible when my nipples went hard, and since I was wearing a tank, my arousal was very easy to see. Damian’s gaze dropped and my clit spasmed. Oh dear God, I was going to come from nothing more than a heated looked from the man.
In the next second, he gestured to someone behind me. “Take this. She’s taking a break.”
He didn’t wait for an answer as he grabbed my hand and pulled me right out the front door, around the side of the building to the alley in the back.
“What are you doing?”
He didn’t answer, well not with words. He pushed me up against the brick of the building; pressed into me, his hands coming to rest on the wall near my head. He looked at me with such hunger my knees went weak. For a good few minutes it was like he was debating about what he wanted to do.
“Fuck it,” he said as he threaded the fingers of one of his hands through my hair to palm the back of my head. In the next breath, his mouth closed over mine. Not a kiss, a conquering. His tongue invaded, tasting me with a thoroughness that left me weak. His free hand moved up my body, under my shirt. When he palmed my breast and swiped his thumb over my nipple, a moan caught in the back of my throat. His knee moved between my legs, his lips pulling from mine only long enough to say, “Ride it.”