She never expected to be here, in a place like this, with a man like Oliver. Despite her desire to make more of herself one day, she never wanted it to be because she dated up on the social ladder. Even though being friends with women like Emma and Violet exposed her to plenty of sexy, successful men, she didn’t think for a moment they would be interested in her.
But Oliver was definitely interested.
His hands moved over her body, exploring and caressing each curve and hollow like he was trying to commit it to memory. When his fingertips brushed over the bare curve of her back and waist, she shivered from the sizzling heat of his hand against her skin.
“Are you cold?” He whispered the question against her lips. “Your skin is freezing. We can go back inside.”
“I’m not cold. You’re just hot.” In more ways than one, she thought silently. “And I like it.”
“Oh really?” He smiled and gripped firmly at her hip. “Then I think you’ll like this, too.”
Lucy let out a soft squeal of surprise as Oliver pulled her into his lap with a firm tug, guiding her to straddle him on the chaise. The position was much more comfortable than lying side by side and allowed her free access to his body with her hands. She ran her palms over his chest with a naughty grin, feeling the hard muscles beneath the starched fabric of his shirt. “You’re right. I like this as well. I’d like it better with some of this fabric out of the way.”
She moved quickly to his tie and the buttons of his shirt. He didn’t resist, he just closed his eyes and tensed his jaw as her hips slowly moved back and forth, teasing at his rock-hard arousal.
“Damn,” he muttered under his breath.
His response to her made Lucy bolder. Once his shirt was unbuttoned, she pushed it open and ran her hands across the golden bronze ridges of his chest. He wasn’t a soft, pale businessman who spent all his time indoors in front of a computer. Apparently gardening was hard work that he did without his shirt on and she appreciated that.
He lay mostly motionless with his eyes still closed as she admired the gift she’d just unwrapped. Her fingers traced the edges of his muscles, grazing over his sprinkle of dark chest hair and trailing the path it made down his belly to his belt. She could feel his stomach quiver beneath her touch as she moved lower.
Oliver could only tolerate that for so long, it seemed; as his eyes flew open, he reached out to cup Lucy’s face and pulled her mouth to his own. There was an edge of frenzy when he kissed her this time, the slow, sensual kiss from earlier harder to maintain as the tension built between them. She didn’t mind. She gave as good as she got, touching him and pressing into his caresses to intensify the pleasurable feelings that they sent through her body.
Lucy only felt a moment of nerves as Oliver’s fingers unfastened the strip of red fabric that held on her dress. There was nothing beneath it but the black cropped pants that paired with the open-backed gown, so she would be fully exposed. She didn’t want to act nervous, however. She didn’t want Oliver to know how long it had been since she’d been with a man or how badly she didn’t want to screw tonight up. So instead, she pasted on her most seductive expression—at least that was what she was going for—and let the gown slip down her arms to pool with the rest of it bunched up at his waist.
She bit at her lip as Oliver studied her bare chest with appreciation. She held her breath until he brought his hands up to cover her breasts and knead them gently. He groaned aloud with approval as she leaned into his touch.
Oliver let go of her only long enough to tug the fabric of her discarded dress into a ball and cast it to the vacant side of the chaise. That allowed them to get closer, and he took advantage of that by sitting up, wrapping his arms around her waist and capturing one of her hard, pink nipples in his mouth.
Lucy’s head went back with a soft cry she couldn’t hold in. For a moment, she looked around, expecting to feel exposed somehow, but the garden was incredibly private. She could shout, cry and remove every stitch of clothing she had on without anyone being the wiser. It was an unexpected turn-on, titillating the inner exhibitionist she didn’t know she had.
She clutched the back of his head with her hands, burying her fingers in the thick waves of his chestnut hair and holding him close. She was so caught up in the moment, the feel of his lips on her skin, that she didn’t realize she was moving backward until her skin made contact with the chaise.
Now Oliver was on top with Lucy’s legs clamped around his narrow hips. He held himself up with his arms planted to each side of her as he looked down with a satisfied smirk. Pressing forward, he rubbed his firm desire between her thighs. The sensation shot through her like a fiery arrow despite the pesky pants they both still had on. Not for long.