“You know what,” I snap impatiently, but I can’t seem to break free of him. It feels too good.
“I need you to say it, Lucky.”
“So we can sleep together,” I whisper, feeling heat explode on my cheeks.
“Like a nap?”
I groan and it morphs into something guttural as the pad of his thumbs finds my ticking center. “Fuck. I want to fuck.”
He pulls aways, still kneading me, and raises an eyebrow.
“Will you please fuck me?” I pant. I’m not just ready. I’m bursting.
Sterling withdraws his fingers and lifts them to his lips. He sucks each one, a slow smile spreading over his face. “Lead the way.”
I don’t waste any time dragging him towards the hedge.
“My dad has tried to fix this hedge a dozen times,” I explain. “He still hasn’t figured out why he can’t.” I give Sterling a wink and step sideways through a gap in the hedge wall. A couple of branches snap as I pass, just like they always do. “Alright, you can come through. Make sure you don’t get poked in the eye.”
I hear a wordless grumble, followed shortly by an ouch, but Sterling manages to force his way through. He takes a second to shake off the foliage and look around. “It’s a garden,” he says, surprised.
My mother’s garden. I don’t tell him. That’s not what tonight is supposed to be. Of course, nothing tonight has turned out how I wanted.
“I hope you’re not too drunk to climb through a window,” I say, pointing to the pool house, which forms one of the garden’s four walls.
“All this to avoid your own cameras?” he says, incredulous.
“Exactly.”
The big picture window overlooking the garden can’t be opened, but the one through the kitchen does. I push it up, straddle the bottom of the sill, one leg at a time, and I’m through.
“Welcome to Wonderland.” I say triumphantly. “Now we can be alone.” I give him a sexy smile, but I doubt he can see it through the darkness.
“Too bad I only rate the pool house,” he says, his dark silhouette coming towards me.
Good. He’s joking. We might be able to rescue my birthday after all.
“We’ll see about upgrading you next time,” I tease.
Our bodies collide awkwardly in the darkness, but as soon as he touches me it doesn’t matter. I cover his lips with mine, and he responds instantly, hungrily. I explore the stubble along his neck, planting kisses and slowly making my way towards his chest.
“I suppose lights are out of the question?” he says with a deep purr.
“If you want there to be a sequel,” I say, pausing to nip his earlobe before continuing, “we’d better not.”
“Whatever you say, Lucky.” He puts both hands on my hips and spins me away from him. His hands are greedy on my body, and his stubble scratches along my neck as he kisses me there.
“Oh, that’s nice,” I moan, rolling my head onto his chest.
“You know exactly how hot you are, don’t you?” He sighs before planting kisses on my shoulder.
“Do I?” I whisper, melting into him.
His hands slide up slowly from my hips toward my breasts, which tighten in anticipation. Sterling’s fingers glide over the tight points of my nipples and pinch slightly. The other hand wraps around my neck, and I gasp as he turns my head to the side and kisses me again.
There’s nothing but him. I feel the bulge in his jeans against my ass, and I don’t have to tell my body how to respond. I collapse backward into him, needing him to touch every part of me. My hands search for his body in the darkness, but he swats them away. He’s in control. That’s clear. I’d argue, but I have no complaints.
He trails kisses along the way from my shoulder to my neck. A jolt of lightning crashes through me when I feel the first nip of his teeth on my neck. He goes from sweet-and-soft to rough-and-demanding, and back again, until I have no idea what will come next.
He whispers in my ear, “Let’s find somewhere more comfortable.”
Our bodies break apart, and it takes a moment for my senses to return to normal. “Follow me.”
I could lead him to one of the bedrooms, but the couch in the next room is much closer.
We stumble through the darkness and I push him onto the couch before he ever realizes it’s there.
“I guess you know what you want, huh?”
The picture window overlooking the garden gives the sitting room a lot of natural moonlight, and I can see Sterling’s features again. His eyes are narrow, but it’s not because he’s straining to see in the darkness. He’s not even looking at me. I can feel the gulf between us widen.
But I won’t let it. Not again. He’s drunk. It’s not ideal, but I’m ready. And besides, he’s not too drunk to remember if the last few minutes are any indication. That’s what matters.
I climb into his lap and begin to kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his perfect mouth. He’s surprisingly slow to respond, so I place his hands on my ass and pull my top off. If he suddenly needs the paint-by-number approach I can oblige.
I kiss him again. Our bodies collide again. But there is no softness there, just hard tension.
“What’s with you?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
He stiffens further. “It’s nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“Sorry. I was thinking.”
“You were thinking?” I repeat. How can he be thinking right now? I’m barely breathing.
“I was wondering how long it would be until the next one,” he says, as if it explains everything.
“You’re going to need to give me more to go on.” I bend forward to kiss him again, but he stops me.
“What you were talking about earlier: the sharing.”
The sharing? What is he talking about?
“Do you get me all to yourself for a while? Or maybe you plan to take turns?” He spits the words out like a bad taste.
