Page 4 of Desired

The garage is double-doored, and the back door leads to the gazebo and garden out back. A kidney shaped pool is hidden behind the gazebo, and the whole place is surrounded by landscaping, trees, bushes, flowers, you name it. I could have a party back here, and nobody would know, unless they were in a helicopter. Admittedly, I have had many gatherings here, mostly for work, and mostly for seasonal things like Christmas parties, things like that. “Do you want to see the outside or inside first?” I ask her.

“Either way.” She shrugs, looking around, in awe.

I chuckle. “Come on. Let me take you to the office inside.” I hesitate to take her to the main house now, if she’s this enthralled with the guesthouse. “For someone that has a lot of money, you don’t seem like you’re used to larger dwellings.”

Something changes in her face. “My house is a shoebox compared to this. I mean, it’s nice, and it has all the modern things, but it’s small. And it’s a condo.”

I lift a brow. “You don’t seem like a condo sort.”

“I hate yard work and the idea of having someone come and trim my bushes makes me shudder.”

I’m not sure if she’s speaking in euphemisms or if she’s being literal, but with her profession, what she just said is funny to me. I snort a laugh.

“What?” She smiles, broken from her reverie.

“Nothing.” I lie.

It takes her a second. Her face turns pink and she slaps me playfully. “Pig.”

“Come on. Let me show you inside, so you won’t think I’m such a swine.”

Her long brown hair glistens in the sunlight that’s peeking in from the picture windows. Calves so edible and toned, I have to divert my eyes from her legs, she’s stunning. Breasts perfectly shaped under her conservative blouse, yet she’s so sexy I could fucking take her against my accent wall before us. What a sight. I’ve never met a lass so beautiful. When her eyes meet mine I can’t help the smile. Every. Single. Time. It’s something about her presence. She’s...luminous. There is not a pretentious, sinister, manipulative air to her body language. Moira is about as transparent as you can get. And about as sexy, too.

“So you had this designed yourself?”

“Aye. I know a few architects.”

She scoffs, impressed. “I’ll bet. Hey, I can hook you up with a good doula if you need it.” She frowns, lightening the conversation.

I snort. “What’s a doula? Or, do I want to know.”

Her smile is wicked. “For that I’m not going to tell you.”

“That’s my punishment for being a smartass, hm.”

We walk into the living room. The fireplace still smells of the fire I had last night. “Oh, wow. That’s nice.” She says, inhaling the fumes. I watch her breasts swell upward and downward with her breaths. My cock twitches.

“It is. That’s the best way to relax after a long day.” I have a better one, but I keep that to myself. Suddenly, I can picture her and I fucking on the leather couch, her legs spread wide, as she lays on her back, begging me to make her come as fast as I am. I have to divert my thoughts, so I take her to the back of the guest house, away from the bedrooms, not bothering to worry if she’ll question me. “Do you like gardening?” Then I chide myself for the foolish thought. “Sorry. I forgot for a second there that you live in a condo. And that you hate that sort of stuff.”

“I like swimming.” She says, throwing me a bone.

“Oh yeah?”

“I swim in the pool in the basement almost every night after work. That’s how I relax.”

“I do, too, most of the time.” I open the sliding glass door that leads to the back, figuring I’ll take her back to the office in a moment.

“You mean the pool isn’t just for show?” She asks coyly.

I shake my head. “Nothing is for show here, lass. You’ve seen my truck. I own just one vehicle. I’m not the showy type.”

Her head tilts slightly. “I can see that about you.”

I’d like to slide my tongue into her mouth while I have the chance, and I know that my eyes betray me, as my gaze moves down to her lips. But I’m battling with myself. I’ve never been one to make the first move. It terrifies me. Even with Moira here, who I find most attractive, and where all arrows point to the fact that she’s into me, too. My brothers call me a pansy for never taking the reins, but it’s not in me, and until I get a twinge of a signal from her, my feet remain firmly planted on the ground.

“I don’t like to play games, Moira.” I tell her, giving her multiple angles to take that in.

“Me neither.” Her voice is soft, her eyes round. “I’ve got too much at stake.”

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