much time left. And in the spring, I want to take you to see some special gardens. I want to go places and do things...and I also want to walk down to the pub for sliders. On those rainy San Francisco nights, I want to build a fire and stay in.”
“What special gardens?” she asked, her lips still close to his.
He rubbed a thumb along her jaw. “There are so many. But we should go to Victoria, British Columbia. The Butchart Gardens for one. The whole town is beautiful and there’s always something in bloom. They have a perfect climate.”
“Victoria?” she whispered. She would love to go to Victoria with him. “I wasn’t hoping to find a man,” she said again. “What if this is just infatuation because of what we’ve both been through...”
“Then I guess we deal with it,” he said. “But what if it’s not? What if it’s real? And good? And right?”
“I’ve made so many mistakes,” she said, letting her eyelids fall closed.
“Welcome to the club,” he said.
Then he covered her lips in a searing kiss. Her arms reached around his neck and his went to her waist, pulling her closer. She moaned softly because she had wanted this for a lot longer than she cared to admit. She returned his kiss, opened her lips for him, held him so close she felt like they’d be bonded together forever. She loved the sound of his sigh as his lips slid to her neck, his hands running up and down her back. Then they shared a deep and open kiss, tongues playing. It lasted for a minute, at least. Then two. She loved his scent and the taste of him. She could detect a manly cologne and something like freshly turned, rich soil...or perhaps she imagined that because he was so comfortable in a garden.
She held him close, letting her fingers wander into the short hair at the base of his neck, kissing him deeply for minutes. And minutes. Their breathing became labored. She broke from his lips and rested her head on his shoulder, holding him tightly, as if he might slip away.
He held her and stroked her hair. “You have no idea how much I wanted to do that,” he said.
“Have you been practicing?” she asked in a whisper. “Because you’re very good at that.”
“You’re pretty good yourself. If it matters, I haven’t kissed a woman in well over a year. But I sure wanted to kiss you. I want to do it some more, too. But maybe I should go. I don’t want you to feel pressured.”
“You don’t have to go,” she said, snuggling closer.
They stayed that way for a little while, silent and comfortable. Finally he kissed her again, almost desperately. God, it felt so good to her to be wanted with this kind of passion. Tender but strong. She yielded completely, finally unafraid of where this might be going.
He broke the kiss. He looked into her eyes. “I should go,” he said. “I probably shouldn’t get any more worked up. This...us...we could move a little too fast and go off the rails.”
“Okay,” she said.
“You did say you thought it would be best if we got our legal shit handled before we—”
She nodded. She still thought that would be the smart thing, except she wanted to be less smart right now.
They stood. They hugged. He held her face in his hands and kissed her again. Then he went to the door and she followed. He stopped before opening the door. He paused. Then he turned and grabbed her around the waist, turning her so that her back was pressed against the door. He kissed her again. “I don’t want to leave,” he whispered against her lips.
“Good,” she said. “I don’t want you to.”
“Even if it’s not smart?” he asked.
“It’s the smartest thing I can think of at the moment,” she said.
“I want to make love to you,” he said. “For three days straight.”
She laughed softly. “I think we’re going to have to start off slower than that. I have to work tomorrow.”
“But now?”
“Now is good,” she said.
He leaned his head against her shoulder. “I promise. I’ll take good care of you,” he said, his lips against her neck.
“I know,” she said.
He lifted her up into his arms. “Time to undress the witch,” he said. And he carried her to her bedroom.
* * *
Standing at the side of the bed, they shed their clothes quickly, leaving everything in a heap on the floor. “Condoms,” he