I imagine pushing her down when her pants are halfway up her legs, trapping her knees, grabbing those wide made-for-childbearing hips, and placing her in the exact position I need her to be in.
Lucky lopes over to the door when it starts to open, his tongue lolling, his tail wagging like crazy.
The drum-beating in my chest gets even more persistent when she emerges. She’s wearing a light gray hoodie and cargo pants, a dog-walking look that has no right being as sexy and captivating as it is.
But even in these mundane clothes, her curves are clear, her breasts round and tasty-looking, her thighs thick and gorgeous.
“Ready?” she asks, pacing over with Lucky at her feet.
What man could resist Daniella when she’s got that spark in her eye, the same spark that took hold of her when she gave me some sass in the bedroom. I was so stunned when she emerged from her shy shell like that, head tilted, fiery as hell as she snapped at me.
I must be fucked up because when she snapped at me it only made me want her more. It’s a sign of the raging fire deep inside of her, nothing like the anxious lip-biting and fidgeting she’s displayed so far.
I want to learn all the different parts of her, every single steamy piece, as intimately as I know myself.
But, shit, do I even know myself if I can fall this hard this fast for a woman I only just met?
“Yes,” I say, realizing I’m just staring at her, hard, like I’m going to devour her right here. “Come on. I haven’t got long.”
That’s a damn lie, but I need to give myself an escape route if she becomes too tempting.
I walk slightly ahead of her as I lead her through the mansion, down the corridor past the art, and then taking the right that leads toward the garden.
“This place is huge,” Daniella murmurs. “Don’t you ever get lost? Because I’m telling you right now, I am one hundred percent going to get lost.”
I let out a laugh, surprising myself with the sound. Maybe I’m a grumpy bastard but I never normally laugh with anyone except for Kesha, but there’s something about Daniella that makes me feel as though I can relax.
I try to remind myself she’s a stranger, but when I feel as if I’ve known her my entire life, it doesn’t feel convincing.
“You’ll learn your way eventually,” I tell her. “If you decide to stay with us long term, that is…”
I curse myself for putting that out there because long term probably means something different to her as it does to me.
When I think of long term and my woman, I think of the rest of our lives, of filling this massive estate with the laughter of our children and the barking of even more dogs.
“Maybe I should make a map, huh?”
She giggles, dodging the question as I open one of the rear exits and let in a light tickle of spring wind.
I walk onto the lawn, heading past the fountain and toward the bushes at the back. The bushes are tall, masking the rest of the garden, the pond, and the tennis courts, and the small copse of trees that serves as a miniature forest for Lucky.
Lucky bounds ahead, off at once, tail wagging as he frantically sniffs the ground.
“You’d never think he was ill,” Daniella murmurs, walking beside me now, our arms almost touching as we head toward a small gate at the edge of the bushes. “Look at him go.”
Lucky leaps in the air, opening his jaws to try and snag a butterfly, but the insect darts away too quickly.
“He doesn’t let it hold him back,” I say, nodding. “It’s one of the reasons I respect the little man so much.”
I feel her gaze on me, staring hard, but when I turn to face her she glances at the ground and another blooming flush spreads across her cheeks. She doesn’t have any idea how badly I want to caress those cheeks, to track the path her blush takes, tickling her neck and down to her breasts.
“What?” I say, pushing the gate open to let Lucky run through.
I keep my eyes on her as we walk, but she bites her lip and looks elsewhere, anywhere but at me.
“What?” she echoes after a moment, with a note of bratty petulance in her voice that makes me want to show her who’s in charge here, show her in the most intimate and possessive way.
I smirk, almost reaching over and brushing a wayward strand of her wavy hair from her forehead. It flows down to her shoulders, spiraling here and there, begging to be caressed.
“You were going to say something.”
“Was I?” she says.
I chuckle, the laughter coming easily. “Yes, you were.”
She throws her hands up as I lead us down the gravel pathway, flowers lining the edges, throwing up their fragrances that have no chance of competing with the luscious scent of my woman.