Page 3 of Blurred Lines

He nods his head slightly. "And you're the star of tonight's show."

I laugh lightly at that. "Good cook, seasoned flirt. You're Michelangelo with spatulas. I need the recipe for this cake." I cut myself a second slice and dig in, hoping he'll disappear. I don't particularly care for how he's making me feel.

He moves closer, and his shoulder brushes against mine. "There's more than a recipe that goes into baking a cake, you know? You're speaking a dialect."

I slide my eyes up to meet his. My lips curve when I see the desire in them. He takes the plate from my hand and sets it aside.

"Come with me," he says huskily.

I should refuse. This isn't good. Instead, I let my fingers curl around his as he pulls me away from all the light and people. A beautiful lawn stretches under a sea of dotted stars outside. It's reasonably empty.

"What's your name?" I breathe as he leads me to a cluster of trees and pushes me against the trunk of one.

"Caeleb," he replies in perfect baritone.

"Who—"

Before I can ask the question, his arm curls around my waist, and his lips land on mine, hot, ravenous, and delicious. A tiny moan escapes my mouth as I part open the folds, welcoming his seeking tongue inside. He kisses like a man who knows what he wants and isn't afraid to claim it. His free hand pulls my leg, and I instinctively wrap it around his hip.

My fingers seek the zipper of his pants.

At that very instant, he stops me, laying a gentle palm on my shoulder. "Before we move any further, you should know something. I'm a single father. Does that change anything?"

I blink, momentarily confused. Does it matter? Not really, no. I look into his eyes. "It matters if you make a thing out of this. It doesn't if we just … go with the flow."

"Go with the flow," he repeats, watching me with a slight smile. "I like that."

"Good," I reply. The next second, I'm pulling him to me again. I don't know how we do it, but then, his cock is in my palm, a big, pulsating thing, begging to nest inside me. I groan as his kiss deepens, and he bites down on my lower lip. His fingers are pulling my panties down. I don't want him to stop. He breaks the kiss and dots my chin with kisses.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes against my neck.

"Mmm." That's all I can manage. My skirt is bunched up at my hips, his cock just an inch away from my core. I pull him in, closing that paltry distance, and gasp as the first inch slides in.

"Oh gosh," he growls, beginning to move. "Fuck, you're glorious." My breath snatches in my throat as his speed builds. I bite his ear, feeling the roughness of the bark, his thick cock pounding into me, and his lips hot on my skin. I'm seconds away from a climax, and this also … never happens.

"Ah," I cry as it comes, washing over me. "I'm coming!"

He pulls out just the second it hits me, making me gasp harder. He turns me around and enters me again. My hands slam against the tree's bark as I attempt to steady my trembling legs. I groan harder as his skin slaps against mine, his pace becoming feverish.

"Good God," he calls out, and I feel him beginning to build his way to his climax. I realize I don't want it to be over right when it does.

His breath is still flush on my skin as he rests his head on my shoulder for a quick moment. Then, he releases his hold on my skirt. I turn around, laughter in my eyes. "I didn't think that's how I'd end tonight."

There are so many questions in his eyes. I see what he wants in them. He thinks there can be something here. He's going to ask for my number, I know it. After many years, I actually want to give it to someone.

His dimples ripen.

"Don't," I say before he can ask the question. "It'll just complicate things."

I think I see something shift in his eyes, but it's gone too soon. "Let's go back inside," he says instead.

I let the silence stretch as we gather our bearings and walk back. When we reach the main entrance, he touches my arm lightly. I turn to face him.

"I'm sorry," I mumble. "I don't do … relationships. They're too messy for me."

"Fair enough," he replies. "What if we just do coffee instead?"

Against my instinct to stay noncommittal, I giggle. "How badly do you want that?"

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