by Lilia Moon
Her far hand thrashes around, confused, just like she is, looking for a place to land.
I capture her wrist and guide it, setting it down over her heart.
She looks at me and blinks.
I kiss her very expressive eyebrows. “You’re in a hammock with a view, a fine fire, and a man who wants to run his fingers over your skin a while. Relax, just as you were before with my fingers in your hair.” I run them into her curls to remind her. “You draw curves, sweetness. Let me keep playing with yours.”
Her eyes drift shut, more a response to my fingers than my words, but that’s fine.
They’re saying the same thing.
Chapter Fifteen
Daley
The man has done nothing but touch me and it’s turned up the thermostat inside me to beach-in-Tahiti levels. I’m nothing but melted sunshine encased in skin that can feel every small change in the breeze. Or I was, except now he wants to change the rules, and the confusion of that is trying to cast shadows over my sunshine.
My lion flicks her tail. She likes him. She wants this. She wants to play, and any part of me that doesn’t needs to take a vacation.
I chuckle and let myself sink a little deeper into the man who has me draped all over him. “All right. You can pet me while I fall asleep.”
“You would be welcome to do that.”
Not going to happen. I’m drifting, but not the kind that leads to snores and drool on my pillow.
His fingers slide back into my pants, but I don’t seize up this time, even when he lands in surprising wetness. That’s not somewhere my body goes quite so easily anymore.
He cups me, not moving really, not feeling me up at all. Just a gentle rocking, almost like his hand is a hammock, one with no purpose in the world but to hold me this way that feels wildly intimate and strangely comforting.
I let the melted sunshine creep back in. It’s an odd state, one of utter laziness and prismatic awareness. His breath on the top of my head. The warmth of the cardigan covering my toes. The hardness of him, pressed against me, not in demand, but in simple presence. Crackles as a log in the fire reduces itself to coals.
His fingers are moving, stroking my most intimate zones the same way they explored my shoulder—with curiosity and confidence and absolute lack of intent.
He brushes my clit on one of his passes and I squirm as the melted sunshine inside me tries to grab his fingers. He keeps moving languorously, ignoring my small reactions. Tracing meandering lines on my inner thighs. Cupping me while his thumb rubs circles on my lower belly.
Holding us to the shallows. We truly aren’t going anywhere.
I let myself sink into the fullness of that, into the experience of putting lines on paper with no intention of drawing anything more recognizable than curves. Art as process, not destination, and it is art, because no matter how casually the man holding me brought this about, it’s entirely clear just how skilled he is. He’s never met my body before and he’s playing it as deftly as I play with my favorite charcoals.
His breath whiffs down my temple as he nuzzles his head a little closer to mine. A man deep in this moment of sweetness, just as I am. I tip my head, seeking the heartbeat I had under my ear until he rolled me over. I stretch a little, working myself a little more deeply into his chest, his hands, his warmth.
Wrapping myself in a blanket of melted sunshine.
Chapter Sixteen
Callum
She’s stirring, which is a shame. Holding her as she’s slept has been one of my finer pleasures in recent memory. She naps the way I imagine she draws—with utter commitment. Not a muscle has twitched since I slid my hand out of her pants and onto her belly, and there’s an adorable, whiffling breath she has when she’s deep asleep that I won’t call a snore, but I won’t soon forget, either.
I smile as her eyelids scrunch up, and kiss her cheek. “Hello, lovely. Welcome back to the waking world.”
Her eyes fly open. “I fell asleep?”
I watch her carefully. For some, that’s a kind of vulnerability far deeper than anything else we’ve done in this hammock. She’s clearly gathering her wits, but I’m not seeing any tension flowing back into her. Not of the anxious kind, anyhow.
I hide a grin as her hips rock against mine. Someone’s desire wakes up before she does.
Her hands scrub her face, and then her eyes are back on mine, much clearer this time. I can see her sorting through the memories of what was happening as she fell asleep and connecting the dots to the clear need coursing through her body now. I wait to see what she does with it. I’ve some guesses, but those would shape her, and she’s a right to name where she wants to go next.
She rolls over in my arms, a surprisingly graceful move given just how thoroughly we’re ensconced in the hammock. Her hand reaches up to my cheek as her hips snug against my cooperatively hard cock, and I can see the invitation in her eyes. “That was truly lovely, Callum. But I’m thinking only one of us got what they needed.”
It’s a good thing my Dom wasn’t the one taking the nap. I can feel him watching. Weighing. Thoughtful. “I got exactly what I needed, sweetness. Trust and intimacy are experiences I treasure.”
Her hand stills, and I can see the wheels turning. “So that’s a no to doing anything further?”
I wonder if she knows there’s hurt in her voice. “For today.”
She frowns, pushing off my chest, which isn’t very effective, but it communicates perfectly well. “I don’t understand.”
I keep my hands where they are. Touch would gentle her, and it would be unforgivable to do that right now. “How are you feeling?”
She glares at me. “Horny.”
“And?”
“Annoyed. Stirred up.” She rolls out of the hammock and stands, turning to face me, hands on her hips. “I have all this energy and I don’t know what to do with it.”
More careful Doms would be stepping out of the gasoline, but I find myself not in the mood to be careful. “That energy is more than sexual. It’s the energy of creation. Of art. Of music. You could use it to draw or sing off your balcony or dance naked in the rain.”
There are hints of amusement, but it hasn’t dispersed the gasoline any. “But you won’t help.”
This isn’t a conversation I want to be having lying down. I swing myself up to my feet, far less gracefully than she did. I’m close enough to touch her, but I don’t. “I will. Tomorrow, if you’d like, invite me in and ask for what you need, and I’ll be happy to bend you over your front entry table and fuck you silly if that’s what you want. Today, I’m keeping my promise.”
The sound that comes out of her is definitely a growl. “I can take care of myself long before tomorrow.”
That’s a lovely bit of temptation to think about, but I manage not to take the bait.
She sighs. “I’m sorry. I wake up cranky. My friends know to avoid me until there’s been coffee or a cold dip in the lake.”
That sounds extreme in February. I glance out the windows, curious.
She laughs, even as she scowls at me. “Not past October. There are locals who go in the water all winter, but I like to be able to feel my body parts after a swim.”
I grin. “I’m a fan of hot springs, myself.”
She reaches for her cardigan, wrapping herself back up in its warm, red softness. “We’ve got one of those on the other side of the lake.”
I file that away for later. Right now, I want to catch the woman who’s carefully, thoroughly distancing from what just happened. “Daley.”
She looks back at me, pausing in mid-motion.
I close the space between us. “I’ll leave soon, because that’s part of the promise I made to you. But I’d like to hold you a bit first if I may.”
She cocks her head. “Haven’t you had your fill of that?”
“Not hardly.” I’m not above using my dimples, especially when they’re being so very honest. “But that’s not my reason for asking. I’m seeking a way
to give us a little time and make sure we’re both steady on our feet before I go.”
She makes a sound that could mean many things. “Usually, I wash dishes.”
I’ve lost track of the plot somewhere.
She smiles and holds out her hand. “When I’ve immersed myself in drawing for hours and I’ve stopped, but I’m not quite ready for re-entry, I stick my hands in a sink full of hot water and let it pull me back into the world.”
I follow, not sure whether I’m being led to a couch or about to be handed a drying towel.
Neither turns out to be true. She leads me to the door.
The Dom on alert inside me wants to protest, but even he can see she’s back on her feet. And she’s allowed the distance between us to close, even if she’s about to toss me out into the cold. I dip my head. Acquiescing. I’ll go. For today.
She kisses my cheek. “I’ll wash the dishes and make sure I’m set back to right. And I’ll keep the promise I made to check in with you tomorrow.”
It pleases me that she remembers. “I’ve had a lovely time in your home, Daley. Thank you.”
Her forehead tips into mine for just a moment. Then she straightens, and her grin is full of mischief. She hands me the small bag I brought in from the car and my still slightly damp suit jacket. “Go. Out into the rain with you.”
I don’t say any of the many things I’d like to say as I walk out her door.
Tomorrow is going to be interesting enough as it is.
Chapter Seventeen
Daley
I march into Liane’s kitchen carrying some of the containers I borrowed the last time I raided her fridge, and start tucking them back into her cupboards. I don’t intend to hit and run today. I need a friend as much as I need breakfast.
Liane emerges from her pantry, which she loves the way most women cherish their walk-in closets. “Good morning, sunshine.”
It clearly has been for her—she’s practically glowing, and that’s not something that happens by accident, not in early February, anyhow. I passed Matteo on the drive here, so I have a pretty good guess about what might have polished Liane’s shine this morning. My fingers itch for my sketchbook. They often do around her lately. She’s always had a quiet confidence my charcoals love, but lately it doesn’t hide away under her flannel.
I’m halfway to my bag when India bursts in the back door. “Sorry. Took a while to get your message.”
India answers texts on her own time. Which is a good thing. Cell phones and butane torches don’t mix very well.
Liane shoots us both a wry look. “I was planning to experiment with a new soufflé recipe this morning. I guess I don’t have to put the sign out front asking for volunteer tasters.”
She only did that once. Forty people showed up. She fed them all, because she’s a woman who keeps her promises, just like the man I somehow managed to yank into my life yesterday. “I need your wisdom, but I won’t turn down breakfast.”
She chuckles as she pulls eggs out of the fridge. “You never do. Does this have anything to do with Callum?”
My fingers pause in their hunt for my charcoals. “You know him?”
India hops up on a bar stool, frowning. “Why is it that every time I hibernate these days, I miss important shit?”
Liane laughs at her scowl. “Do you not talk to the man you sleep with?”
India blinks. “Sometimes. Not so much last night, though.” Her ears turn adorably red. “We were busy.”
Anything that can make India’s ears blush must have been a wild night. We’ve heard things in the past four months that have made me realize just how sheltered I am, and I’m pretty sure we only get the heavily edited version.
Bowls and a monster whisk land on the counter. “He’s a sexy Irish architect. A friend of Matteo’s and Rafe’s who showed up in town unannounced yesterday. He brought by a bottle of wine after dinner last night. He’s lovely.”
India’s eyebrows shoot up. “A bit taller than Matteo, silver hair, gray-blue eyes, looks like he walked off a battlefield and cleaned up really well?”
Liane nods, surprised and amused.
“Heh.” India tips her bar stool back against the wall and shoots me a sharp look. “I’ve seen him in some of Rafe’s photo albums.”
I’m still busy trying to keep my brain from drawing Callum in battle armor. He’s an absolute gentleman, but she’s not wrong about what lives underneath. Which makes the jitters I woke up with start practicing synchronized maneuvers. “I ran into him in the gallery yesterday. He said something that made me think he was a Dom. Which of course got me all cranky.”
India stops with her glass of orange juice halfway to her mouth. “Why?”
I just stare at her until the sugar hits her brain.
She turns to Liane, eyes wide. “They didn’t.”
Liane snickers. “Nope. They actually didn’t. But Daley thought they did, so she quick-marched him through the rain to their offices to yell at them for their perfidy.”
Someone’s been playing too much Scrabble lately. I sigh and pick up the glass of juice Liane pushes my way. “Yup. That was me, wet and furious and yelling at three Doms who hadn’t actually done anything wrong.”
“Oh, they’ve always done something wrong.” India grins at me. “Did they yell back?”
“No.” That would have been easier. “They were all very nice about it and then somehow Callum convinced me to show him my etchings over lunch.”
India snickers. “Is that what the young ones are calling it these days?”
Liane shakes her head slowly. “You didn’t have sex with him. Something else happened.”
I grimace. “We cuddled. In my hammock.”
They both gape at me.
I close my eyes. “He touched me some and I fell asleep. Then I woke up horny and he kept his promises and left and I’m supposed to check in with him sometime today.”
There are no noises from either of my best friends, just funny fish motions with their mouths.
I sigh. Callum might not have understood just how far I strayed from my rules yesterday, but they do. “Exactly. Now tell me how I fix this.”
India manages to find the controls for her nervous system first. She sets down her glass carefully, never taking her eyes off me. “Do you want to?”
Damn. Liane’s the better mind reader, but India always knows where the trickiest bits live. “I’m not sure.”
Two eggs crack on the edge of a bowl. “The check-in part sounds like something a Dom would do.”
India’s back to scowling. “The whole thing sounds like something a Dom would do. He found his way into your soft spots, made a bunch of rules, and left you hot and bothered.”
That’s not an entirely inaccurate description of yesterday afternoon. Minus one rather important point. “He didn’t do it for him. He did it for me.”
India sighs gustily. “Those are the worst kind. Rafe pulls that crap all the damn time.”
Liane’s cheeks are pink as she goes fishing for the eggshells she just dropped. “Matteo too.”
I make a face at both of them. “I’m not a submissive.”
“No shit.” India snickers. “But that isn’t going to make a guy like him into any less of a Dom.”
Liane looks up, her fingers covered in egg goo. “It might not be a bad thing.”
I stare at them as they nod in unison. “Since when is being a sexual mismatch a good thing?”
“Mismatched labels, maybe.” India’s giving me the same kind of considering look she gives a new delivery of metal wire. “But you need a man who can handle your flames, because otherwise you try to be a nice, polite candle, and you know where that leads.”
I do. I pout anyhow. “I like candles.”
“Sure.” She looks down, which she only does when she’s being really serious. “But you like to be a bonfire sometimes too, and when it comes to men, you don’t think you can do that if they’re hanging around.”
My lungs hav
e to work to get air back in them. Stabbed, in the way that only a best friend who knows you really well can do. “I lose too much of me when I get involved with someone.”
India raises an eyebrow. “What does Callum think about that?”
Damn.
Liane’s eyes widen. “You told him?”
India’s eyes soften. “Wow. You did.”
I wrap my arms around my ribs. “He promised to help. To not let that happen.”
“Oh, honey.” India’s over beside me, her arm around my waist, before I can take my next breath. Liane stays where she is, but her warm empathy wraps around me even with a high counter between us. The absolute, unwavering support of two people who get me down to the ground—helping me figure out what to do with a man who maybe has what it takes to join those ranks.
India rubs her head against my shoulder. “What are you going to do next?”
I’m going to not be an idiot. “Talk to him. Get to know who he is without the distraction of his hands in my pants.”
India’s lips quirk. “Sounds like yesterday had some interesting details you left out.”
I shared the most important ones. “Where would you take Matteo or Rafe if you wanted them to behave?”
India’s grin is fairly evil. “Take him to the lighthouse. The wind up there at this time of year will totally shrivel his cock.”
I’m not sure that’s the part of Callum that dictates his actions, but I love that hike at any time of year. It’s a good idea. We’ll both need enough layers to make hands on skin next to impossible, and we’ll see what happens when he finds out that I’m not just a curl-up-by-the-fire kind of kitty.
I squeeze India’s waist in thanks and look over at Liane. She’s said very little, but her opinion matters. It always has.
