Desire #1
Authors: Carrie Cox
DESIRE (I)
by Carrie Cox
Copyright © 2012 by Carrie Cox
All rights reserved.
These stories are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from THE AUTHOR or the Publisher.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
I stopped my old, red truck in front of a set of imposing, twenty-foot high iron gates.
The security guard stationed beside them recognised me and waved me on with a cheerful smile. I waved back. After a struggle, I managed to get the truck in gear, then put my foot on the gas and slowly drove along the winding driveway to Cliff House, one of the largest of the magnificent Newport mansions that lined the shoreline of Newport, Rhode Island.
As I drew closer to the grand building, I felt a slight flush of embarrassment, as I had every morning since I started working there.
I pulled round to the back of the house, not wanting to embarrass the owners any more than necessary. It was only seven-thirty am. So I still had half an hour to kill before Mrs. Wicker would open up the front doors.
I needed to sort through the stuff in the back of my truck, so my early arrival wasn’t a problem. I’d turned up early for work every morning this week. I don’t think I had ever been as excited about a job as I was about this one.
I jumped down from my truck and took a deep breath. I could smell the ocean and freshly cut grass. The smell reminded me of the other reason I’d turned up early this morning: The estate’s head gardener. At least I
assumed
he was the head gardener.
Yesterday morning, he had wandered over the grounds, wearing a tight, white t-shirt and faded blue jeans. He was absolutely gorgeous. I lusted over him for a full twenty minutes before starting work. If I was honest, he was the main reason I turned up early this morning.
I scanned the area, taking in the Elizabethan garden and the rose garden. There was no sign of him yet.
The property was immense, so it was entirely possible he was working on another area of the grounds today. I felt disappointment sit heavily in my stomach, which was stupid.
I set about sorting through my tools, arranging the brushes and solvents I would need today. Thankfully, after a series of early starts and long days, I’d broken the back of the project, and with just two days until the gala dinner, I thought I might finish in time.
I caught a movement to my right and turned my head. My heart leapt in my chest. It was him. He leaned over a flower bed, dead heading a couple of blooms. He wore a white t-shirt again today. This one seemed even tighter. It clung to his well-muscled chest, and immediately I imagined running my fingers along his torso and down to…
At that moment, he looked up, catching me staring at him. I felt the blood rush to my face. He’d seen me practically drooling over him. I quickly turned my head and ducked behind the door of the truck.
Way to go, Kate
.
It had been a while since I’d been with a man, at least a year since my last date, and that hadn’t even made it as far as the bedroom. I wasn’t usually the type to get dizzy over men, and I didn’t usually salivate over hot guys quite so obviously. But there was something about him that intrigued me.
I leaned into the truck and began hauling out a box of paints. I figured it was a good idea to have them all in one container, but I hadn’t planned on how heavy they’d be. The box got stuck next to a large bottle of solvent, so I pulled harder. All of a sudden, the box was dislodged and slid forward easily. Surprised, I fell back, landing on my butt in the gravel.
Why was I so clumsy?
I scrambled to my feet, praying no one had witnessed my spectacular stupidity. I glanced around.
Oh, hell.
The gardener was striding towards me with a concerned look on his face.
My cheeks grew hot and my mouth dry.
I turned back to the truck and busied myself with the tools. Hoping he’d decide I was all right and leave me to it.
No such luck.
Tanned forearms appeared in front of me and grasped the box of paints.
“Let me help you with that,” he said, in a deep, smooth voice that was impossibly sensual.
Butterflies danced in my stomach. I tried to conjure up a sassy reply, something sexy.
“Oh, okay,” I muttered.
Way to go. Bowl him over with your wit, Kate
.
I finally gathered the courage to look up at him. He was tall. He pushed his dark hair back from his face and stared down at me with intense brown eyes. His lips curved upwards a little, as if he found me amusing.
Irritated, I stood up a little straighter and tossed my hair, which wasn’t very effective as I had scraped it back in a ponytail this morning.
“Thank you for your help,” I said in a stiff and formal voice. “I think I can manage from here.”
His soft brown eyes travelled the length of my body and back up slowly. “You look … very capable,” he said.
Dammit, that voice made my insides melt. How could his voice alone have such an effect on me? Was I really that desperate?
Before I could react, he reached his hand down to my backside and ran his fingers across it. “You’ve got a little dust on your pants from the gravel.”
My cheeks flamed. So he had seen me fall on my ass. Great.
I stepped back, out of his reach. “Thank you, but I can do that myself,” I said, craning my neck to try to see the dirt on my behind and swatting at the dusty marks.
“Are you sure?” he asked in a sexy drawl, leaning against the side of my beat up truck. “I really don’t mind helping.”
I stopped wiping the dust from my jeans, transfixed by his voice. Talk about a loaded question. I bit my lower lip.
“Come here,” he said. His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the command in his tone.
Something warned me he was dangerous. A spark in the back of my mind, warning me not to get too close, or I would get burned. I was sure this man had lots of notches on his bed post. Probably the love them and leave them type. That wasn’t for me. I didn’t do quick flings.
Despite the warning bells ringing in my ears, I inched forward.
He smiled, and I felt the butterflies in my stomach start to do the rumba. Holy crap, what was I doing?
He took my hand, his fingers cool against mine, and then turned me around so my back was facing him. He pushed my upper body gently but firmly forward, so my butt tilted towards him.
“Hmm.” The timbre of his voice sent pleasurable shivers along my spine.
I felt silly and vulnerable and wanted to straighten up, but he held me in position. I knew he was going to put his hands on my ass and I tingled in anticipation. Images flooded my brain, picturing myself bent over in front of him, naked. My breathing grew fast and shallow.
He ran his hand over my backside. Slowly. He wasn’t brushing off the dust. He was feeling me up, and God help me, I loved it. I wanted to push him down on the bed of the truck and let him stroke me all over.
My breath caught in my throat, and I pulled away.
What was I doing?
He let me straighten up and turn to face him, but he didn’t let go of my wrist. His eyes burned down into mine, and I was pretty sure he was turned on. I briefly fantasised about getting in my truck and driving him some place quiet and letting him run those strong hands anywhere he wanted…
“So you’re the artist?” he said, his face now a mask of professional friendliness.
“Huh?” Maybe I’d misread the signals. Maybe I’d projected my lust onto him. “Um, yes. I’m the artist doing the restoration work.”
“How’s it going?”
I took a deep breath, surprised at the sudden change in direction. My brain struggled to arrange a coherent sentence. “Quite well. It was a tough job, but I hope to be finished in a couple of days.”
“That’s great.” He smiled, showing off white teeth and a perfect mouth. Dammit, he was so good-looking.
“Perhaps you would like to look at the chapel?” he asked.
I frowned and shook my head, trying to focus and bury the erotic images that kept popping into my mind. “Sorry?”
“The ceiling in the chapel. It has a fresco by Juliaane Retour. I wondered if you’d seen it yet. It’s quite beautiful.”
I couldn’t take my eyes from his mouth. His lips looked soft. I wondered how they felt, how they tasted.
For goodness sake, Kate, snap out of it
.
“I haven’t seen it,” I said.
“I could take you if you like?”
I noticed his fingers still held my wrist. I should say no. Mrs. Wicker would open up the Great Hall for me soon, and I needed to make an early start if I was going to finish the restoration by the weekend.
He noticed my hesitation, and his fingers traced a line along the inside of my arm.
“It’s not far,” he said, his voice low and persuasive. “But I understand if you are too busy.”
He dropped my wrist, but I could still feel the warmth his fingers left on me. I looked at my watch. I still had twenty minutes. Perhaps I could see the chapel and get back to start work in time.
“I’ve only got twenty minutes.”
He smiled, which set off tingles in my stomach. “Well, that will have to do, I suppose.”
He offered me his arm. I was surprised by the old-fashioned gesture, but linked my arm through his as we set off along the drive. As we walked, I was conscious of the warmth of his skin, the taut muscles in his arm. Just being this close to him sent my imagination into overdrive.
Halfway along the gravel driveway, he veered off and led me along a footpath I hadn’t noticed before. As we walked further along the path, the trees grew more numerous, blocking us from sight of the main house. The thick vegetation muffled the sound of the ocean. As birds chirped happily above us, I thought no one can see us. He could do anything he wanted to me, and no one could see. That thought didn’t scare me, but it did set my heart racing.
He could throw me down on the ground right now and slide his hands up my shirt, strip off my jeans and…
“Are you okay?”
I jumped and looked up to see him staring at me. That dark, hungry look was back in his eyes. I knew I wasn’t imagining it.
If only I was brave enough to slip my hand up his t-shirt and feel that muscular chest… But I wasn’t. I wrenched my gaze away and stared down at the ground, scared he might be able to read the desire in my expression.
He stopped walking and turned to face me. After putting a finger under my chin, he tilted my head up. The look in his eyes turned my insides into liquid desire. I trembled.
“There are other ways we could fill twenty minutes,” he said, his voice husky, and stepped closer to me.
“Oh?” What else could I say?
He smiled and moved even closer, until my chest was touching his. I realised with a jolt of embarrassment that my nipples were hard and pushed up against his chest. My mind filled with naughty things I wanted him to do to me. I might not have been able to verbalise what I wanted him to do, but my body was making the message loud and clear.
He reached up a hand and trailed his finger along my lower lip. I wanted to kiss it and suck it. But how could I do that without seeming like a brazen hussy?
“Lie down,” he whispered.
Lie down? Did he really just say that? I stared down at the flattened grass beneath my feet. Broken twigs scattered along the path. Surely he wasn’t serious? We couldn’t do it here. Anyone might stumble on us in the middle of … I let out a low breath as another image of us entwined on the floor filled my mind. Maybe this path didn’t get used much. And if he was feeling as hot as me, it wouldn’t take long.
His hand gently cupped my elbow, and he guided me a few steps to the right to a mossy area. It looked more comfortable, but if anyone walked along the path we would still be seen.
“What if someone sees us?” I said. My voice sounded strange, all breathless and husky.
He smiled slowly. “That adds to the excitement.”
Oh my God.
His words sent shivers of desire spiking through my body, and I felt a warm wetness tingle between my thighs.
I sat down on the moss, as he stood in front of me and pulled of his t-shirt. I’d been right. His body was beautiful, smooth, tanned skin over hard muscle. I longed to touch him, to kiss him.
