“I barely got to—”
“I’ll come too fast,” he mutters, kissing my cheek and then my nose. “And I’ve been without you for far too long.”
“It hasn’t even been a week.”
“Too long,” he repeats as his fingers gently pluck at my nipple. Then his hand glides down my stomach, over my pubis, to the part of me that’s pulsing with need for him. “You’re so feckin wet.”
“A woman would have to be dead to not want to have you fuck her into the mattress right now.”
His green eyes flash with humor and then passion as he reaches over me to the bedside table, protects us both, and then pushes my thighs wide.
“Watch,” he says, and I comply, looking on as he fills me up. “You’re incredible.”
He covers me, kisses me, and moves in long, slow motions. The rhythm is sweet, and I know he’s working to make it last.
But I want him to lose himself.
So I plant my hands on his ass and pull him to me, grinding against him.
“Faster,” I whisper against his lips.
He does as I ask, picking up the pace until we’re both panting and moaning, watching each other with rapt fascination. Before long, we both tumble over.* * *I haven’t opened my eyes yet. I know I’m in Kane’s bed, and that it’s morning because there’s light in the room.
I reach over my head and stretch, my muscles a little tight and sore from several hours of enthusiastic sex.
I’m not sorry in the least.
I turn onto my side and open my eyes. Right there in front of me, his nose inches from mine, is Murphy.
“Does your dad let you on the bed?”
He licks me happily but doesn’t move a muscle. I rub his ears and kiss his cheek.
“You’re a good boy.” I kiss him again. “The goodest boy ever.”
I laugh when he wags his tail, slapping it hard against the mattress.
“And you’re happy, too. I don’t blame you, you have a great house and an amazing human.”
I realize I’m having a one-sided conversation with a dog and sit up, noticing a note on Kane’s pillow under half of Murphy’s head.
A-
I’ve made coffee for you. Good morning, darling.
-K
I grin and slip from the bed. I’m not about to wear the clothes I had on last night, so I find a T-shirt of Kane’s and a pair of boxer shorts, then pad down to the kitchen where there’s a clean mug sitting next to the coffee pot.
No Keurig for this man.
But there is another note.
A-
There’s cream in the fridge, along with yogurt and fruit if you’d like something to eat. I’m out in the barn working. You’re welcome to come out whenever you like.
You’re beautiful.
-K
It seems the reclusive artist is a romantic.
I set the note aside, fetch the cream from the fridge so I can make my coffee, and then pull out some strawberries to munch on.
I quickly scan Kane’s pantry and discover he has all the makings for some muffins, so I get to work pulling together the treats. By the time they’ve finished baking, and Murphy has talked me out of a whole one for himself, I’m ready to go outside.
I even found a pair of shoes that sort of fit me. I think they’re women’s shoes, but I’m trying not to dwell on that too much. He has sisters, after all.
I pile the hot muffins on a plate, grab a fresh cup of coffee, and head out the back door, admiring the sunroom just off the kitchen.
“Oh, Murphy, I could hang out back here.”
Murphy flashes me a doggy smile, hoping for more handouts, and joins me on the short walk to the barn. I can smell the ocean and hear it beating against the cliffs. The view is breathtaking.
Yes, I could spend some time here.
Smoke billows out of the chimney of what Kane calls the barn. I’m sure at one time that’s what it was, but it’s been remodeled and looks more like an industrial space now. I open the door and slip inside. And stop cold.
Holy shit, Kane’s hot when he’s working.
And not just because it’s sweltering in the barn. He’s sexy.
“Shut the bleeding door,” he yells, snapping me out of my trance. I hastily shut the door and wait as he turns a long pipe with a bulb of molten glass at the end of it. He blows into the pipe and turns the rod again, then reaches down with a thick, heavy towel and rubs it over the hot glass.
I can’t take my eyes off the man.
He’s sweaty from head to toe, his T-shirt sopping wet, and his hair molded to his cheeks.
It looks damn uncomfortable.
But from the expression on his handsome face, he doesn’t give a shit. He’s too consumed by the glass to notice.
Murphy and I wait for a while. At first, I worry that the heat from the room might trigger my asthma, but so far, so good.