Every Time I Fall (Orchid Valley 3)

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Lunch was amazing. Chicken salad sandwiches on focaccia with butternut squash soup and fresh strawberries. This is the second time Dean’s fed me. I don’t think I’ve ever dated anyone who cooked for me or brought me food. Food has always been my territory, and I was expected to deliver. As much as I enjoy cooking, I can’t deny it’s nice to be taken care of once in a while.

I’m happily full and stretched out on a chaise on his deck, petting Trixie and letting the afternoon sun warm my skin.

I love Dean’s house. Not only is it bigger than my place, but it also features an incredible view of Lake Blackledge and is shiny and updated in ways my Pinterest boards have only ever dreamed of. Perks of owning a home renovation business, I suppose.

I’m not sure what feeding me and letting me snuggle with his dog have to do with seduction, but I’m not complaining. This is the best day I’ve had in a long time, and I’m grateful for Dean’s determination to take this slow. I never would’ve been able to enjoy an afternoon like this if I thought we were leading up to naked time.

“Want some coffee?” Dean asks, standing from his own chaise.

“I either need caffeine or to surrender to a nap.”

He grins. “I’d let you nap here. Not to brag, but I have the best bedding in the world.”

Laughing, I roll my eyes. “Does that line really work? ‘Come nap in my bed, baby. My sheets are super comfy.’”

He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the chaise until I’m standing in front of him, smiling up at his warm brown eyes. “It’s true,” he says, gaze on my mouth. “And it’d be a good lesson for you too. Letting me hold you.” He cups my jaw in his big hand and skims his thumb across my bottom lip. “And I know all the secrets to help you fall asleep.”

“A massage, lunch, and an orgasm?” I grin. “I don’t think you’re teaching me to be better in bed. I think you’re spoiling me for all other men.”

Something flashes in his eyes. Before I can get a read on his expression, he lowers his head and sweeps his lips across mine. “Is that a yes?”

I’ve been unexpectedly at ease all afternoon, but this question on the tail of his offer makes my stomach shimmy. “I might need to test out this bedding before committing to anything.”

Grinning, he takes me by the hand and leads me into the house, Trixie trotting along behind us. When we enter his massive bedroom, we don’t make it to the bed before he spins around and pins me against the wall. Mouth on mine, hands in my hair, his body hot and hard against mine.

I release a little moan into his mouth, and he smiles against my lips. “That sound right there. I wanna hear it over and over again.”

“I’m pretty quiet in the bedroom, actually.” I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want to think about it. I just want to feel. But I also need to prepare him for what’s coming. Disappointment.

“Not with me.” He trails his mouth down my neck, licking and sucking.

My nerve endings go on high alert, and I gasp. I melt under each touch of his tongue, each scrape of his teeth.

“You’re so sensual,” he says. He slides his hand beneath my shirt and up to cup my breast, and I can’t help but arch into it. His big hands feel like they were made to touch me. “And I’ll use every trick I have if it means making you moan.”

Another desperate, breathy sound slips from my lips, and then I groan when I realize what I’ve done. “You’re determined to make a liar out of me.”

“I’m determined to make you moan my name,” he murmurs, pinching my nipple. “Tell me what you imagined me doing when you were touching yourself.”

“No fair. You made me tell you if I thought about you, but you never said if you thought about me.”

He buries his face in my neck and chuckles. “What do you think?”

“I think you made me say it, and double standards suck.”

He pulls back and grins down at me. “I thought about you.” He scans my face, his expression going serious. “I think about you all the time. Now tell me.”

His face is serious, his eyes dark and penetrating. I gather all my courage. “You were over me. Touching me. Watching your fingers slide over me.”

His nostrils flare. “That can be arranged.”

“What about your fantasy? What was I doing when you thought about me?”

“What weren’t you doing?” His teeth scrape over my earlobe.

This time the sound that slips past my lips is a whimper, but it’s muffled by the phone ringing in Dean’s pocket.