Dance Away with Me - Susan Elizabeth Phillips Page 0,94
present. I’m disorganized.” She flipped her loose braid over her shoulder. “And that’s not all. Pack up, Miss Contrary. You’re having a sleepover at Auntie Heather’s house.”
“Heather, you don’t have to. . . .”
“A wedding present. Now time’s a wastin’. Wren’s favorite male stripper is due to show up at my house any minute now.”
Tess smiled, but the last thing she wanted was time alone with Ian. Heather, however, was an unstoppable force, and she soon had Wren and a bulging diaper bag loaded up.
“Grab a blanket,” Ian said as Heather drove off. “I’ll get the wine.”
“Blanket?”
“I don’t want to stay inside.”
He had the tree house in mind. A sturdy platform with a skeleton frame stood about ten feet off the ground. He climbed the ladder first with the food and wine, then reached down to take the blanket from her. When she got to the top, she spread out the blanket and sat on it cross-legged, using the view as an excuse not to look at him.
It was the golden hour right before sunset. A wash of honeyed light glazed the trees and softened the edges of the rocky outcrops. He handed her wine in a plastic cup, poured some for himself, and sat next to her. His arm brushed hers.
“I like your tree house,” she said.
“Studio,” he clarified.
“Uhm.”
He rested his wineglass on his thigh. “You don’t think I’ll work here?”
“Of course you will.”
She’d replied too quickly, and he frowned. “I will. Once I have some peace and quiet.”
“It won’t be long.” She gazed out at the land—the trees and crags, ridges and valleys. “Wren and I should be resettled at the cabin in the next day or two.”
“Then what’ll my excuse be?”
His brutal honesty touched her. “You’re finding your way. Those beautiful drawings of Wren . . .”
“And of you,” he said scornfully. “Sketches like that are a dime a dozen.”
“You’re the authority, so I suppose you’re right. But I love them.”
The sun slipped behind the hills. Straws of pastel light reached into clouds that looked as if they’d been splashed by Easter egg dyes. The back of his hand brushed her neck as he picked up a long lock of her hair. It curled around his finger, and gooseflesh pebbled her skin. She took in his fierce nose and graven jaw; the whittled lines of his cheekbones; those enigmatic eyes. This was a face that had learned at a painfully early age to obscure its emotions. The face of a man who would only give up his secrets with his artist’s tools.
What was he seeing when he looked at her? Was he seeing the smudges under her eyes from worry and interrupted sleep? Was he seeing how ordinary she was?
He kissed her. The lightest brush of his lips on hers. He drew back and gazed into her eyes. “Say ‘stop’ whenever you need to.”
“Go,” she heard herself whisper.
“Don’t let me rush you.”
He couldn’t rush something she’d been waiting so long to enjoy.
He kissed her again. A deeper kiss. His fingers eased into her hair. His tongue slipped through her parted lips. He explored, taking his time, sending her into a slow frenzy. His big hands moved to her shoulders, down her back, drew her closer until her breasts pressed into his chest. It was only a kiss. Just a kiss. And yet she thought she would expire from it.
She needed to take over. To do her job as she was meant to. To repay him. And she would. Any second now. As soon as this kiss ended. But for this moment, she would enjoy.
The moment ended as he rolled them both to the floor of the platform. He angled his body under hers and pulled her over him as if she weighed nothing. It was a position she knew all too well. Forever on top. She straddled him, ready to take charge. She owed him everything, and she had to do this right. What would he like the most?
He liked kissing. She could definitely do that.
Her hair made a private curtain around their faces as she leaned forward and touched her lips to his. He liked deep kisses, but she didn’t have much practice using her tongue. Thank god she’d only had wine and no cheese. Cheese mouth would be disgusting.
How deep should she go? Not far, or she might choke him. But she didn’t want it to feel like a dental exam, either.
Trying to do everything perfectly had cooled the fire that had been burning inside