“Use those long arms of yours.”

  “Thanks for the tip.”

  “Left. No, your other left.”

  A muscle in my back twinged sharply as I dropped to my knees. At least I was tall enough to lean in. Good thing, since it took another twenty minutes until she was satisfied with the angle of the tree.

  “That’s good! Don’t touch!”

  I quickly tightened each screw before I collapsed onto the floor. I looked up and she was standing over me. “It better be straight.”

  “It’s perfect.”

  She stepped over me and turned herself until she could straddle me. “I like your hybrids.”

  I folded my arms behind my head. “Is that right?”

  “Now that I’ve seen them firsthand, I’ll be able to write up a great newsletter reminder for this weekend.”

  “Is that so?”

  She pressed her palms against my chest. “Yes, that’s so.” She narrowed her eyes. “Your plan all along?”

  “Actually, this was my plan all along.” I relaxed as she spread her fingers over my thermal shirt. It gave her touch an extra texture, especially when she paused at my nipples.

  She inched her way lower. “Get me back to your place to see your…stained glass?”

  I grinned as she lowered her mouth. “It is pretty impressive. I wanted to share my space with you. See you in it.”

  She paused before our lips touched. “Are you sure you want memories of me here?”

  “Even if we’re nothing more than this, I would never regret it, Rach.”

  I could feel her brain whirling, but she didn’t voice anything going on in there—as per usual. Instead, she covered my mouth with hers.

  It took everything inside of me to stay relaxed under her. To let her take the lead in our kisses, in the way she touched me. It had been days since I’d been inside of her, wrapped around her, tangled up in every part of her.

  I missed it.

  My body missed it.

  My cock sure as fuck missed her.

  But she’d been so uneven all night, I knew this was what she needed. Maybe it was even what I needed.

  She sipped from me. Tentative touches that slowly got more bold. I groaned into her mouth as her nails dug into my muscles. As her hips lightly rolled as she inched lower.

  She brushed her nose along my neck, and I absorbed the flick of her tongue at my clavicle as she nosed the three buttons open. She drew my necklace free, placing it outside my shirt before she slid her way down my thighs.

  With rock-steady fingers, she tugged my buckle open. She licked over the arrow of hair above my waistband, nipping lightly before she undid my jeans.

  She watched me as the teeth opened on my zipper. I had no control over this situation—or my dick, which lengthened in reaction to her nearness.

  It had been so damn long since I’d let someone go down on me. I preferred to do the pleasing, to watch my partner go over before I took my satisfaction.

  She splayed her knees, lifting up and directing me to do the same so she could get my jeans free. She left on my boxer briefs, dragging off my jeans and boots.

  I’d never forget this time with her on the rug by the tree.

  The tree I’d been planning for a good chunk of the last ten years. And here was this woman I hadn’t seen coming, her hot breath fanning over my aching shaft.

  Everything about her was unexpected. How she made me want more than I ever should, how she’d opened and blossomed since the first day I met her.

  And now she was going to drive me even more crazy.

  I wouldn’t regret a single thing about this moment, but I was pretty sure she was going to ruin me for anyone else.

  She pushed at my shirt, her nails dragging through the hair on my belly as she freed me with the other hand. There was no teasing, no tentative licks—that wasn’t Rachel.

  She took me into her mouth, smoothly and deeply until I rose up, every muscle locking.

  She moaned and took me again and again. Her nails dug deeper into the walls of muscle on my stomach until I collapsed back. I couldn’t stop watching her.

  Her silky dark hair curtained her face as she changed the angle and squeezed the base of my shaft as she sucked.

  “Fuck.”

  She let me free and swiped at her wet mouth. “Soon.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I like this. You taste like spice and salt.” She tongued the tip of my dick before dragging me deep into the recesses of her hot mouth.

  She studied, adjusted, drove me insane.

  Her head bobbed as she took me deep and then shallow before licking the entire length of my shaft and returning to kick up the insanity.

  I tried to stay laying down, but the pure satisfaction of her gaze set me off. She wasn’t going to be happy until I spilled in her mouth. I knew that look.

  Determination lit her gaze as she sucked me deeper, as she sucked at my heavy sac, then went back to my dick. I was a puzzle and she was finding the way to lock each piece together.

  My hips lifted to her long strokes, my fingers found her hair, dragging it away from her face so I could watch her take me. Watch her end me.

  I didn’t mean to pull so hard. Her eyes flashed wide and something else dented the determination. Surprise and heat as she suddenly retracted her claws on my belly to touch her breast.

  “Fuck. Get that shirt off.”

  She released me enough to laugh and take a deep breath. “No.”

  “It’s my shirt. I want it back.”

  She licked her lips, then sucked my tip hard. “No.”

  I curled up around her and she tightened her hold on my shaft. “I’m not done.”

  I rolled back, my hands gripping my hair.

  “You gotta stop.”

  She took me deeper, her throat hugging the tip of my cock as she nearly deep-throated me.

  I slapped the floor and arched up off the rug. “Rachel.”

  She sucked me harder and I was lost to her. The lights above my head fuzzed and darkened as I came so hard, I was pretty sure my spine shrieked as loud as I yelled.

  My throat was hoarse as I dragged in huge, gulping breaths. I draped my arm over my face as I tried to gather my wits. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d come that hard.

  I dropped my arm and rolled up to a seated position. “Proud of yourself?”

  She licked her lips then pulled my boxers back over my spent dick. Her mouth was cherry red, and her skin was puffy all around her lips and chin. “I like your taste.”

  “Jesus. Get over here.”

  She shook her head and swung her leg off my thighs. “I want to stay like this for a little while.”

  “Pants off.”

  She bit her lower lip. “Nope.”

  She stood and for fuck’s sake, she was still wearing her boots. I was half naked spread out on the floor, my brain somewhere down her damn throat.

  “You’re going to feed me, you said?” Somehow her voice was coming from near the kitchen.

  I rolled onto my side, still dazed. “You want food?”

  “That was just an appetizer.”

  “Damn fucking right it was.”

  “Hey, there is a dessert in here. Would it be wrong to eat that before dinner?”

  “Yes,” I called out as I got to my feet. I was pretty sure I was dehydrated. What the hell had she done to me?

  Briefly, I used the back of the couch for support as I stumbled around the living room to the wide stair that broke up the space. She was sitting on one of the stools at the breakfast counter. She’d kicked off her boots and one lime green socked foot swung while the other was wrapped around the leg of the stool.

  She dried her hands with a towel then she used the tip of her wine-colored nail to break off a piece of the mystery dessert’s tart shell. At least I was pretty sure it was a shell. I wasn’t exactly up on my baking terms. She popped it in her mouth and moaned in a way that made my dick stir again.

  Which was a damn miracle. It had needed last rites by the time she’d finished me off.

  “I’m not sure where that came from.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Baking fairies?”

  “As good a guess as any other.” I frowned. No one had been here but Ransom.

  I came up beside her and settled my hand on her lower back. “Maybe it’s from the orchard. Ransom gave me shit for making brownies to go with our dinner.”

  She propped her head on her hand as she twisted the tart on the table. “It smells really good.”

  “So, brownies are a no?”

  “Oh, I’ll eat both, don’t you worry.”

  “So, you leave me dead on the floor and just walk away?”

  She shrugged. “I had the salty, now I want the sweet.”

  “Diabolical.” I snorted and walked around the counter to my kitchen.

  Her lighthearted giggle made my chest tight. She was a far cry from the tightly wound Rachel from this afternoon—and from the woman who had damn near killed me not five minutes before. Talk about whiplash. But she did seem overly pleased with herself.

  I was used to dealing with women in the city who didn’t like revealing their cards, but they had nothing on Rachel.

  I grabbed a knife to cut the tart, forks, and two dishes. “We make the rules, right?” I slid the pile over to her. “You cut us each a piece and I’ll make dinner.”

  She sat up straighter and gave me that thousand-watt smile I so rarely saw. “Deal.”

  The snap of knife to plate seemed even louder when she scooped out a slice for herself, and then for me. She licked the pad of her thumb and I had to turn around again. My boxers wouldn’t hide a damn thing. Somehow I was half ready to go again.

  “This is not from the café.” She hummed and dragged the tines of the fork across her tongue to get every last bit.

  I pulled out the pancetta and turned on the stove before returning to the breakfast bar and leaning across it. “Let me try.”

  She started to cut me a piece and I shook my head. “No, from yours.” I wiggled my fingers, greasy from opening the wrapping.

  She pulled the plate closer to her. “Mine.”

  “Joey doesn’t share food?” I quipped.

  Her blue eyes sparkled. “Okay, not that bad.” She scooped up a forkful and held it up for me. “Just one.”

  I dragged my teeth down the tines of the fork. Her eyes closed a little as she watched me. Not so unaffected from before after all. I knew she wasn’t, but the fact that she’d walked away from me so quickly certainly felt like a one-two punch out of nowhere.

  Finally, the sharp tang of the pears and blackberries cut through my thoughts. The crust was buttery and practically melted on my tongue. “Whoa.”

  “Right?” She took another bite. “Reminds me of stuff my sister makes actually. She’ll be watching television and suddenly hops up and goes crazy in the kitchen to figure out how to make what she saw. I have no idea how she does it. She barely looks at recipes.”

  “You have a sister?” I asked the question lightly before I went back to the stove. That was the first time she’d volunteered anything about herself.

  “Willow. She’s younger than me. Lives in Brooklyn with a bunch of roommates.” She hopped down off the stool and came around the counter to the wine fridge. “Mind?”

  I shook my head. “Go ahead. The Pinot Grigio on top will go well with the meal.”

  She pulled it out and uncorked it without asking for help. She’d never been in my kitchen, but she seemed to just know where to go to find glasses. She poured a glass for me and set it next to me, but far enough away that I wouldn’t knock it over.

  She peered around me. “No cream sauce?”

  “You won’t miss it. I promise.”

  “All right.” She took a sip and hummed a little. “Was this part of the seduction scene?” Then she smacked my butt. “Cute look, by the way.”

  I handed her my wooden spoon. “You watch this and I’ll go change.”

  “I don’t mind the boxer briefs. Cups all the good parts.”

  I laughed. “I’ve got sap all over me.”

  She took the spoon with a sigh. “Fine.”

  “Can you handle pancetta?”

  “How crunchy do you like it?”

  I reached for the spoon.

  She held it away from me. “I’m kidding. I’m passable in the kitchen.”

  I kissed her forehead. “All right. I’ll be right back.”

  She frowned at me, but she didn’t say anything. It seemed like she was only good with affection when we were naked. Then she wasn’t self conscious with her body or about touching me. Otherwise, she seemed like there was an invisible forcefield around her.

  If I was a smart man, I’d wouldn’t take that as a challenge.

  Evidently, I wasn’t a smart man.

  Chapter 17

  Rachel

  No Strings Was the Deal

  The pancetta, or bacon to me, popped and snapped in the pan. Willow would slap me for saying it too—but it sure looked and smelled like it. Okay, maybe a little better. Fancy, kinda like this whole deal.

  I shook the pan to make sure all the little pieces were doing their thing before I took another sip of wine. And this was definitely not a twenty-dollar bottle like I usually drank.

  Clue number seventeen telling me he had more money than he was owning up to. He was probably one of those richie rich city guys who liked to buy property in Upstate New York for tax reasons. Granted, this was a little northwest of the usual places people flocked to.

  Scarsdale was considered upstate to most Manhattanites. They were also incorrect on a number of levels. Regardless of the status of Clay’s bank account, I still couldn’t get a good read on him. He was smart, that was for sure. He made my body light up like one of his fancy Christmas trees, and he was fairly self-contained when it came to details about himself.

  Okay, I was too, but for good reason.

  We were temporary.

  I didn’t need to air all my dirty laundry when we were just bouncing on one another for a few weeks. He’d go back to his life and I’d…

  What?

  I didn’t even know what I’d do after the seasonal aspect of this job. The Christmas Tree Farm wouldn’t need me once the last tree was sold for the year. Jim and Mary handled the propagation portion of things, taking care of the trees that would be ready for next year in a behind the scenes manner that didn’t include me. They even had a crew who cared for the seedlings due to be planted.

  They were always talking about the science-ish stuff that I couldn’t begin to comprehend, along with taking dirt samples I was less than interested in. I liked my photos and spreadsheets, thanks.

  But the important question in there was…what next?

  Did I go back to the city?

  Did I start over?

  My partner, Natalie, had taken over after…well, after. She’d had the drive and desire to do it all along, but now I could see I’d held her back. Controlling everything, making all the decisions, being everything to everyone until I’d simply imploded.

  In a spectacular way.

  That was enough of that line of thinking. I had been Rachel with a plan for so long, I didn’t know how to just be Rachel. That was why I was here, figuring her out.

  Figuring me out.

  I turned off the flame and moved the pan to the back of the stove. Another minute and the pancetta would definitely be dusty and crusty. I refilled my wine and wandered out of his kitchen. My breath caught again, same as when I walked in. Each part of the main section of the house seemed to be its own series of arches and joints. The wood was bent into an intricate, vaulted ceiling.

  Even with all the wood, the wall of glass that made up the front of his home was definitely the focal point. It was crystal clear with a frame of stained glass in watery gray colors that matched the stone throughout the kitchen and living room. I wasn’t sure how he’d made it all work.

  Nothing this grand should feel homey at the same time.

  But the leather couches looked well-loved and comfortable. A stack of blankets, some handmade, overflowed from an oversized apple box. I couldn’t help smiling at that. Then there was the weathered stone fireplace, which seemed as if it was blended into the warm walls by a craftsman.

  Not a prefab cookie cutter cabin-slash-mansion. Nope, this spoke of true architectural love.

  I drifted back down into the living area. The fireplace was massive with an equally impressive mantel lined with different heights of photos. Some were stark black and white landscape photography and there were a few of Clay with an older man. Easy smiles and hiking clothes made up the candid shots. As well as what seemed to be a dinner with an older woman and that same older man. If I had to guess, they were his grandparents. At the edge of the shelf, a younger couple was stiffly posed behind Clay in a small frame.

  I picked it up. Everyone in the photo looked ill-at-ease. They must be the academic parents Clay mentioned. The lanky man, who had the same build as Clay, was looking off to the side as if he wanted to be anywhere else. The woman was looking straight into the camera, as if daring the person behind the lens to take the shot. And then there was Clay. He was younger here, still athletic but on the leaner side.

  Maybe this was the tech side of Clay he’d told me about. The one who didn’t really fit the man I’d come to know a bit. The same intelligence glowed in his eyes, but now he was broader in the shoulder and stood up straighter. It wasn’t arrogance, but more of a sureness of who he was.

  “Sorry I took so long.”

  I set the frame down and turned. My tongue got a little big in my mouth. Mostly because it wanted to roll out and have a lick. He wore soft black pants and a faded red long-sleeved shirt pushed up at the forearms, revealing a sprinkle of dark hair. The shirt was frayed at the cuffs and a little tight on him as if he’d grown larger.

  Some of young Clay’s clothes he’d found at the back of his closet? I wasn’t sure why that relaxed me, but it did. His feet were bare, which should not have been sexy and yet here we were. I cleared my throat. “Bacon was getting a little crispy. I shut it off.”