Chaste

by Lydia Michaels

  Kelly crowded her back as he looked over her shoulder at the sketch of the greenhouse. His scent mixed with the tang of sweat, labor, and soil, concocting a potent perfume she found herself breathing in and memorizing.

  “What’s this?” he asked, leaning close and dragging his finger over the portion of the trap door she’d sketched. Their arms brushed and she shivered. Her eyes shut as she let the heat of his body seep into her pores.

  She swallowed, her throat parched. “That’s…um…the top. It opens on hinges for easy access and watering, but when it’s closed it traps the heat and sun, like the greenhouse effect.”

  “And this?” His body nudged closer. She sucked in a breath and tried to focus on speaking, but the press of him was incredibly distracting.

  “That’s the…um…” She caught her breath. “Um…” Her eyes shut. What was the question? “I can’t concentrate when you touch me,” she blurted.

  He didn’t move. His breath tickled the back of her neck, as the soft press of his tongue traced over the curve leading to her shoulder. Her spine stretched as her skin drew tight. His lips made a smooching sound. “Mmm, you taste like hard work and sunshine.”

  “Kelly…” she rasped, silently panting. Her insides vibrated so rapidly she worried she’d shatter into a thousand pieces of flesh and bones. Never had anyone aroused her the way he did.

  He nuzzled her ear with his nose. “Have I ever told you how sexy you are? The glasses make me crazy. And I love the way your hair looks different every day. You remind me of a little garden nymph.” The weight of his palms closed over her baggy overalls, low on her hips, and she grew aware of every part of her body.

  His lips sealed over her ear and she quivered, her body tightening and trembling. Her hands gripped the edge of the worktable with her leather-clad fingers, her knees turning unstable, as he proceeded to do wonderful things to her earlobe.

  It amazed her that he found her hair nice. She’d cut it off after she graduated, finding the long locks dreadfully annoying. When her hair had been long it was always in her face. And she wore glasses because contacts were too much trouble with the dust from the gardens.

  Oh my goodness! Is that his tongue in my ear?

  Her knees buckled as he kissed over her racing pulse. Strong fingers dug into her hips, massaging beneath her overalls deep into her flesh. His hands had slipped into the gaping sides of her clothes where her tank top met the waist of her panties. No one had ever touched her so intimately.

  “Let’s go inside,” he whispered.

  Somehow she managed to shake her head. “I…I need to finish this.”

  “Ashlynn…”

  His mouth. He had a wicked mouth. She formed some sort of response in her throat as the tip of his finger toyed with the hem of her tank top next to her navel.

  “Please…let me in,” he whispered as his tongue traveled over the slope of her shoulder, each word an erotic tattoo on her flesh.

  Her feet shifted and his grip tightened. She whimpered. “Kelly, please…”

  His whisper had faded to a breath of words. “I want you.”

  Her hands closed over his, tightening, stilling his progress. Those last uttered words returned some of her common sense. “If we go inside my work will never get done.”

  His fingers squeezed. “Do you know how many fantasies I’ve had about you? The things I could do to you without breaking your vow…” His touch never traveled, but the teasing chills escaping his whirling fingers seemed to go right to her breasts.

  Baiting temptation, she breathed out a question she had no business asking. “Like what?”

  “Mmm. I could spend days stripping you, unveiling every bit of flesh, anointing each square inch of skin with soft kisses. Only kissing, Ashlynn, but I’d kiss you everywhere.”

  Holy Hannah, she needed to put some space between them. They hadn’t discussed boundaries and the line of her virtue was becoming more blurred by the second. Her breath stuttered out of her lungs as his mouth teased over her pulse. She wanted to know what such kisses would feel like, but feared her control would break.

  “No naked.” Incapable of forming complete sentences, it was the best she could do.

  “Touching?” he whispered.

  Oh, God. She wanted to feel his touch, know what it was to be caressed by those strong fingers holding her now. She whimpered. Her promise had never been this difficult. There had never been such a temptation as Kelly and, now, with his hands playing over untried parts of her body, came a nagging desire for relief. “I should say no.”

  “But?”

  “Maybe.”

  His front pressed into her bottom and her neck gave out, drooping her head to his broad shoulder. He growled and his mouth sealed to her throat, his hand sifting under the front of her overalls and holding her stomach, fingers splayed wide, pressing her into his hard form. “So fucking sexy, Ashlynn.”

  “Kelly…”

  “I want to go inside.”

  He was already inside, inside of her head, in her blood, thrumming through her veins, inside every breath filling her lungs. She worried she could die from such over stimulation. She’d never survive sex, at least not with this man. But that was off the table.

  Her muscles contracted and strange urges had her body fluttering in unfamiliar ways. It was too much. “No more,” she pleaded and he froze.

  It took him a second to answer. “Okay.”

  His hand slithered out from under her overalls and he stepped away. She caught her breath and wiped the back of her glove over her heated cheek. She was probably as red as a bell pepper.

  She desperately searched for her bearings, but Kelly seemed fine. From the corner of her eye, she watched him slip his gloves back on and pick up the sanding block as she quietly panted. The longing inside of her had transformed into a painful ache. Her throat was thirsty, parched. Yet water did nothing to quench her yearning.

  Kelly worked with precision and efficiency. Her concentration was crap. Every move she made was deliberate and clumsy, but Kelly proved to be a master carpenter. She suspected he wanted to be done with the chore and that scared her, because the moment they finished she’d have to come up with another distraction.

  The echo of the nail hammering into the wood rattled through the air. “How far can we go, Ashlynn?”

  Her hand stilled. Her gaze focused on the head of the nail she’d been about to hammer into the wood. Swallowing repetitively, she struggled to find the honest answer, but the truth seemed to abandon her in that moment. “I don’t know.”

  The weight of his stare intimidated her. She couldn’t take her eyes off the nail. She searched for solid ground. Nail, Christ, the cross, His sacrifice. You made this vow for a reason.

  “I never want to push you too far and do something we can’t take back, love. This isn’t easy for me and I’m not going to deny wanting you, but I want to respect your limitations more.”

  Oh, God, why did he have to say things that endeared him more? “Okay.”

  “The clothes stay on.” Thank goodness he was saying what she couldn’t manage.

  “Yes.”

  “And…what about…” His voice was restrained. “Penetration?”

  It wasn’t a sexy word or even an erotic one, but the weight it carried had her eyes shutting and need thrumming in her veins. “I don’t know. I can’t…” She couldn’t talk about this. “I…”

  “Okay,” he said quietly. “We don’t need to decide now. I was just curious.”

  She continued to stare down at the half-hammered nail. What was happening to her? “Kelly, I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I’m frightened I’ll lose my will to say no if we go too far.”

  Sand scraped under his boots and she shut her eyes, terrified to face him. His warm finger touched her cheek. He’d removed his glove. “Look at me, love.” She hesitantly opened her eyes. He was crouched in front of her, his blue eyes creased with sincerity. “I promise you’re safe with me.”


  Her throat was too tight to talk. She nodded and he waited a beat then nodded back in agreement. It seemed they’d made some sort of truce. Silently, he stood and slipped his gloves back on. They returned to their work, but her focus was shot.

  No matter how much she tried to doddle, the greenhouse was in place in under an hour. It took all of that time to regulate her breathing and even as the last nail was hammered in, she still felt breathless. She sipped from the canteen as they admired their handy work.

  He took the water from her hand as if sharing a drink was something they’d done a hundred times before and chugged deeply from the canteen, his lips taking from where hers had been. He pulled the bottle away with a satisfied sigh. “It looks good. Let’s eat. I’m starved.”

  She gathered up her tools with trembling hands and he followed her to the shed. The shed was large, more along the lines of a small barn. Inside there were only the sharp streams of light thrown through the cracks and the shadows introduced a new level of awareness. Dark deeds happened in shadows.

  When she turned he was directly behind her. She nearly lost her footing as she tried to step back. His hand closed over her arm.

  “Easy there.” His blue eyes appeared dark in the dimness. Floating dust motes danced in a ray of light that crossed the sharp angles of his face, showing off a bit of those wild indigo highlights he had in his hair. “You have a smudge of dirt on your cheek and it’s incredibly distracting.”

  Her head tipped back as she stared at him. His fingers trailed over the arch of her cheek and her chest rose as she drew in a breath, his scent filling her like champagne, making her drunk. He stepped close until her breasts were pressed into his hard chest. She was shaking like a leaf when his mouth lowered to hers. The kiss was soft, teasing, no tongue, yet remarkably arousing. Wicked mouth.

  “I love the way your kisses taste,” he whispered, his lips never leaving hers. “I’m very, very hungry, Ashlynn.”

  Dear Lord, she was going to pass out. Her fingers somehow fit their way between their mouths and covered his lips, stopping him short. His smile pressed against the calloused pads of her fingertips and she fought back a whimper when his dimple appeared. “I’ll make you something to eat.”

  He pressed a kiss to her middle finger. “Cobbler?”

  She let out a shaky laugh. “That’s dessert and it’s not on the menu today.”

  “It’ll keep. I have a feeling…” He shook his head, his lashes lowering, cutting off his words.

  “What?”

  A small grunt of laughter rumbled in his throat. “Feed me, woman, before I shock you.”

  Her eyes widened. She was already shocked, but wise enough to heed his warning. Stepping to the side, she grabbed one of the many baskets and handed it to him. She tried for normal, but still sounded breathless and scattered. “First we have to pick out our lunch. Do you like Mexican?”

  “Sure.” His voice was tight. She looked away as he shifted his clothes, heat crawling up her already burning cheeks.

  They walked the paths and she selected the best from each plant. The basket overflowed with tomatoes, peppers, red onions, limes, cucumbers, and lettuce. Her attention stayed strictly on her task. There was no way she was making eye contact with him.

  “My sister-in-law could have a field day here,” he said, plucking an orange from her tree.

  “Who’s your sister-in-law?”

  “Mallory McCullough.”

  Ashlynn smiled as she pulled some tomatoes off the vine. “I know Mallory. She comes to the market almost every day with the twins.”

  “She’s a health nut.”

  “And look how healthy your nephews are for it. She’s one of my best customers.”

  Kelly followed her into the screened porch where she clipped off a handful of cilantro.

  “What are you going to make?”

  She led him into the house where they each kicked off their boots. His boots were enormous next to hers. “Guacamole. Don’t judge me. I order my avocados because no matter how much I try, they won’t grow here.”

  “Totally judging.”

  She faced him then saw he was teasing. Meeting his stare was a mistake. The second their gazes crossed, all of her flustered emotions came flooding back to the surface. Her stare ripped away from his and locked on the floor. Stuttering, she said, “J—just give me a minute to wash up.”

  She fled upstairs and grimaced when she saw her reflection. Her hair was a mess, her glasses smudged, and dirt caked in every crease of her skin. Glancing at the door, she quickly locked the knob and turned on the shower. Four minutes later she’d scrubbed herself to a rosy shade of pink.

  Ditching her clothes in the hamper, she hustled into her bedroom and searched for a clean outfit. She didn’t have anything cute. Resigned to some old carpenter pants, she pulled on a ribbed tank top and headed downstairs.

  * * * *

  Kelly glanced at the ceiling as the water shut off and the patter of Ashlynn’s feet scuffed above. She’d only been gone about five minutes, but in that time he gleaned an understanding for the kind of woman she was.

  Unlike her understated dress, her home held hidden pockets of femininity. She was definitely a daddy’s girl. Pictures of Ashlynn and her father were posted all over the dated refrigerator in the kitchen.

  In the den he found a glass cabinet like the one his mum had with items that didn’t seem her style, but then he realized they were likely her mother’s. Doilies and vases and old sewing needles and thread sat on the shelf like priceless relics. The pictures of her mother were all framed.

  So much of Ashlynn’s personality was from her father, but her looks were definitely from her mom, a beautiful woman with the same whiskey brown eyes and snowy blonde hair.

  The sound of footsteps had him turning.

  “Kelly?”

  Like a punch to the gut, his breath left him when his gaze settled on her. Loose men’s pants hung low on her narrow hips. A trace of skin showed below her shirt and he wanted to drag his tongue over the expanse of perfect lily-white flesh. His eyes traveled up her tank top, likely a men’s small, and he choked. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

  His eyes widened as his gaze zoomed in on her perfect tits, noting each little groove of her areolas, and nothing seemed as important as finding out if her nipples were pink or brown.

  Fuck.

  Swallowing, his gaze went to her face, now clean of all dust. She wore nothing on her skin but her glasses and her hair was damp, pointing every which way. She was the most striking image he’d ever seen. Today would be a test in restraint.

  “What are you doing in here?” She didn’t sound angry, just curious.

  “Sorry.” He swallowed, his voice hoarse with longing. “I was passing the time.”

  Her hand carefully adjusted a frame holding a picture of her and her mother. It seemed a natural thing for her to make sure it was in the right place, a sign of respect for the woman who brought her into this world.

  “I’ll start lunch now,” she said, turning as if not wanting to get too close to him.

  Perhaps he should go. Everything suddenly seemed too complicated. He was suffocating with longing and feared he might just take her right on those steps with the dated wood planks.

  Don’t you dare leave. You made it inside.

  Truth be told, he didn’t have the strength to walk away. But he made her a promise that she was safe with him and he intended to keep it—even if it killed him.

  He was under her spell, dying to see what she’d do next, hear what she might say, find out where she might blush. She had the most intoxicating scent coming off her, soft like a hidden spring. It was soap, of course, but nothing like the floral musk most women wore.

  He followed her into the small kitchen and drew in a deep breath. God, that scent. His body hardened noticeably and he sat down, seeking distraction in the environment. The walls were cornflower blue and the ceiling a soft shade of yellow. It was a country kitchen, complete with an old
basin sink and an antiquated gas stove, the kind that still had legs like furniture.

  She efficiently washed off the items they’d collected from the garden and proceeded to carry them to the small wooden table along with a two bowls and a cutting board.

  “So how do you make guacamole?” he asked, arching his spine along the stiff wooden chair in hopes of finding space in his ever-tightening jeans.

  Her hands expertly handled the knife, skillfully cutting into the avocado and scraping back the brown skin. He frowned. That green stuff looked more like what he’d find in his nephews’ diapers than anything he wanted to eat.

  “The main ingredient is avocado, which is becoming more and more popular. I really wish I had better luck growing them, but our climate isn’t right.” She scooped out the green goop and dumped it in one of the bowls, tossing the skin and pit in the other bowl. “Here, you can mash it with the fork. Not too much though. The trick’s to leave it chunky.”

  His lip twitched as he mashed. Ashlynn diced a tomato and minced half an onion. “Fold this in,” she said, tossing it over the green goop.

  “Fold?”

  “Like this.” She took the fork and turned the goop over the veggies. He shut his eyes and inhaled her scent. Annnnnnd…he was hard again. The fork clanked on the bowl and she left him to the rest, not seeming to notice the effect she had on him.

  The blade quickly chopped the cilantro and he contemplated her innocence. A week ago she’d never been kissed, but she had to know some stuff. Yet she seemed totally oblivious to the fact that his dick could hammer nails at the moment. And she always seemed flustered and surprised whenever he got close enough to kiss her, like she couldn’t fathom how he found her so sexy and tempting.

  He liked watching her move. She stood and returned with a juicer. Halving a lime, she pressed the green citrus over the rounded spike. The delicate muscles in her biceps flexed as the glass filled with fresh lime. After pouring the juice over the guacamole, she added a few shakes of salt and pepper.