Rising, he came to her, bracing one foot in its polished loafer on the step into the shed. Sliding an arm around her hips, he brought her close enough to place a kiss in the pocket of her throat. The strength of his arm, the firm press of his lips, conveyed exactly how interesting he had found that kiss. However, the gaze he lifted to her own saw her mixed feelings on the matter. "Still worried about Lyda?"
"This is moving fast beyond infatuation."
"You have to let them figure it out, angel."
She arched a brow. "Because you never push your own agenda on someone or interfere with the natural course of things."
"Of course not. But when the natural course of things can be helped along by my will..." He shrugged. "God does it all the time."
"I'm sure Satan does the same thing."
"Imitation is the best form of flattery."
"I'd like to say I'm surprised you'd compare yourself to God or Lucifer, but that would be a waste of breath."
He brought both feet onto the step, giving him back his height advantage, but she was okay with that, since he wrapped his arms around her, twisting his fingers in the soft stuff of her shirt, teasing the bra strap beneath. As he slid his lips past her ear, he nipped at her throat, making her fingers grip his biceps under the dress shirt he wore. He'd probably left his coat in the Ferrari, but he still bore that rich aftershave smell she loved, that had clung to him when they'd shared a bathroom this morning.
"I have a far better use for your breath."
She smiled against his mouth, let the kiss take her under, relying on his strength to hold her up as her knees weakened, as they always did when he kissed her. Not that she'd ever tell him that.
He already knew.
When he lifted his head, she gave him an amused look, despite the rapid trip of her pulse. "Was that a marking thing? Making sure Gen's kiss isn't the one I carry around for the rest of the day?"
"My wife knows me well." His hand dropped to curve around her buttock, stroke with unapologetic proprietary intent. "Just like she knows tonight I'll tie her to the bed and make her tell me every single thing she felt while she was kissing Gen, until I make her come with my mouth between her legs."
"Sorry. I have to wash my hair tonight. I'm busy."
"I'll wash your hair. Right after I make sure you need a thorough shower." Stepping back down, he pressed his lips to her palm. As he held it there, a silent communication, she touched his hair with her free hand and wondered at the miracle of this never-ending combination of peace and yearning he kept alive in her heart.
"See you soon, angel."
"I love you."
She didn't say it outright too often, infrequently enough his gaze lifted to hers now, his scrutiny telling her he was ensuring she was okay. Then his eyes glowed with pleasure. That made her want to say it over and over again, but she didn't have to. He knew that too.
*
When Gen arrived at Lyda's house, she didn't see her Escalade, but a quick glance at her phone explained it. She'd missed a follow up text while weaving through traffic.
Running late. Make yourself at home. Wine and beer in fridge. Noah in guesthouse in back.
She had to grin at Lyda, giving her the whereabouts of alcohol and Noah. But with her new resolve about things, Gen found she wasn't in the mood to do any sampling of the latter unless both courses were present, so to speak.
Still, she did want company, and she enjoyed being around Noah, not just for his admirable physical attributes. Instead of going into the house, she circled around it on foot. At last, she would get to see Noah's personal space. As she approached the guest cottage, she noticed the touches that said Noah was in residence. A small wooden boat was propped facedown on a sawhorse, being cleaned, painted or whatever one did to maintain it. A couple buckets and brushes were stacked neatly next to it. Even here, he respected the space Lyda had given him by keeping it clean and orderly.
If she'd gotten in touch with her inner Domme earlier in life, and if her husbands had had a shred of service-orientation to them, Gen reflected she might have obtained a more worthwhile investment out of those relationships.
She scoffed at the likelihood. Noah took genuine pleasure in service, and though she could understand the argument that it benefitted his need to serve and submit, she thought about what Lyda had said, that there was a difference between a bottom, who took pleasure merely from being topped, and a submissive, who had a much more complex give and take. Noah had a lovely form of selflessness. Neither of her husbands had had a shred of that quality.
She must be getting better at reasoning this out. It wasn't making her temples pound anymore.
The screen door was in place, the main door open. However, when she pulled back the screen door, she froze.
The door was splintered around the lock. It had been forced open.
She'd been in Miami when Chloe was attacked at Tea Leaves a couple years before. Everything had been over by the time Gen found out what had happened and returned to town. Marguerite had been in a bad way, convalescing at Tyler's. Chloe was still in the hospital. Tyler was of course absorbed in Marguerite, so by unfortunate chance, Gen had been the first one, after the police, to come back to the tea room.