Breath of Scandal(156)

The estate was an unworldly setting. The empty old house was private and romantic, their island of seclusion. The birds seemed to have slept late. Even industrious squirrels were taking a day off. The air was sultry and still. It was a hazy, lazy morning when everything that lived and breathed intimated sex. He wished he could stop the clock for about a hundred years and spend every minute of it making love to Jade.

"Get up and let me sit down."

"Then where will I sit?" she asked saucily. "In my lap."

The idea must have appealed to her because she got up



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to let him have the swing, then sat down in his lap. "Peach? One of the last of the season."

He bit into the peach she held to his mouth. The sweet, fragrant juice oozed out of it, running over her hand, down his chin and dripping onto his bare chest.

"Good?" she asked.

"Mm-hmm." He curved his arm around her neck, tilted her head back, and kissed her with unapologetic carnality. When it ended, he sighed, "Very good." He guided her hand up to her own mouth. She took a bite of the peach. He forced her to take another one, then another, until her mouth was full and juice was streaming over her chin and down her throat.

Dillon watched it trickle onto her chest before lowering his head and licking it up. He untied the knot at her waist and parted her blouse, baring her breasts to the sunlight and his own seeking lips.

Forgetting about the peach in her hand, she folded her arms around his neck and leaned back, offering her throat and breasts to him. He kissed his way up to her lips. When their mouths fused, he growled with animal arousal.

He turned her to face him and guided her legs to rest on his hips. As they kissed, her body squirmed against his, making him crazy.

Against his mustache, she murmured, "Would you think I was forward if--

"No, not at all."

Her hand disappeared beneath her skirt, which was bunched around her waist. When her fingertips brushed him, he moaned. When her hand cupped his testicles, he muttered a mix of prayers and curses. And when she lifted his cock out of his jeans, he kissed her hard. She guided it into her body, and took all of it, slowly sheathing every hard inch.

Dillon nudged the ground with his heel and the swing moved forward, driving him even higher into her. The pleasure was immense. Then the swing arced back and Jade was pressed down on him. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

"Don't let me hurt you," he whispered.



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"It doesn't hurt. But I can feel more of you than last night. "

"I'm in deeper." "Yes. Yes."

The swing continued to rock. Each time it started to slow down or stop altogether, Dillon would give them a gentle push. He was ready to come before she was, but he held back. Dipping his head low, he whisked his tongue across her nipple, then rapidly fanned it until he felt her body begin to close around his like a velvet fist. She gave a senes of choppy, breathy cries as her body milked from his a long climax.

They clung to each other, damp with sweat and sticky with sex and peach juice. After a slumberous time, he raised his head and gazed into her face. He brushed damp tendrils of hair off her dewy cheeks. "I woke up this morning," he began softly, "and before I even realized where I was, I wondered why I felt so good."

"I feel good, too, Dillon. I can never thank you for-He laid his finger against her lips. "The pleasure was all mine. "

"Not all yours."

"It was some great sex, Jade. But it was more than that." He clasped his hands behind her head. "I liked having you asleep next to me."

"I liked that part, too," she said mistily. "Very much. It's the first time I've ever slept with a man. I didn't know that it could feel so safe. No wonder people make such a big deal over it."

"No wonder. " He grinned and pulled her against his chest.

She laid her head on his shoulder. "Dillon?" "Hmm?"

"Last night, just as I was about to, you know, for the first time . she said haltingly.

"Yes?" "You said, 'No, Jade.' Why did you say no?" "I was going to put on a condom first."

"Oh. I didn't even think about that."

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"Well, you should have, but since you didn't, let me reassure you that there's no need for you to panic. The worst that could happen is that you could get pregnant."

She raised her head and looked at him. "I'd never strap you with a baby."

His eyes delved into hers. "I can't think of anything nicer. "

On a catchy little breath, she asked, "Are you saying you love me?"

"That's what I'm saying.

"I love you, too, Dillon. I love you, too." She softly kissed his lips before returning her head to his shoulder. The only sounds they could hear were those of their



matched heartbeats and the squeak of old rope. They stayed in the swing long after it had coasted to a full stop.

Myrajane Griffith parked her gray Ford sedan in the sem-

icircular driveway in front of Ivan Patchett's house. Neal's invitation to brunch had come Re a bolt out of the blue. Myrajane had retired two years ago. Since then, she hadn't seen or heard from the Patchetts. She had often thought it tacky of them to present her with her gold pin, shake her hand, and then forget her entirely after working for them for thirty-five years.