Page 65 of Sunshine
“I bought you presents.” Daisy pulls two small, gift-wrapped boxes from the cupboard, each tied with a pink silk bow, then returns to us still on her knees. She offers up the boxes with a goofy grin. “Happy Galentine’s Day.”
I feel guilty as I accept the present and pluck the ribbon loose. “But I didn’t get you anything.”
Daisy climbs to her feet, hands clasped under her chin and hazel eyes twinkling as she waits for us to peel back the wrapping paper. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I bought one for myself too. I won’t miss out.”
Charlie gets her box unwrapped first, and a quiet groan sounds in the back of her throat. A moment later, I can see what Daisy has bought us. It’s a cute pink toy, not much longer than the palm of my hand, with curves and buttons, variable vibration settings, and a whisper-quiet guarantee.
With a smile, I recall our conversation about the paper-thin walls at Mona’s place and turn the box over to read the product description. “I wonder if whisper-quiet is quiet enough?”
“Just make sure you’ve got a pillow to scream into when you finish,” Daisy suggests.
“Thanks, Daze.” I keep my tone light and my grin steady, but my thoughts jump from getting myself off solo to getting off withDylan. It takes effort not to twitch with restlessness as I yank her in for a thankful squeeze.
“Love you, Daisy,” I murmur, even as my traitorous blood buzzes with thoughts of her brother.
“Love you too,” she says before turning to Charlie. “You like it?”
“Can neither confirm nor deny,” Charlie replies, but her lips curve up at the corners. “I’m going to bed now.”
“Yeah, you are.” Daisy smacks her sister’s ass as she walks past, and Charlie swats her away, but she chuckles as she disappears up the stairs.
“I really do need to go,” I say. A white lie cloaked in truth. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“I’ve got early trail rides, so I’ll be gone when you get here in the morning, but I’ll be around later. Oh! Let’s have lunch?”
“Deal.”
When I’m in my car, I send a quick text to Dylan to let him know I’m on my way, then drive away from the main house. Instead of heading into Aster Springs, I follow the perimeter of the enormous Silver Leaf property and pull into the driveway to the restaurant. By the time I swing into the parking lot and cut the engine, Dylan has returned my text.
Dylan
I’m ready.
The stacked stone, white-cladded, and glass-walled building is dark inside, but the path to the entrance is lit by tiny lamps lining the garden beds. My heart skips every other beat as I lock my car and head to the front entrance. Nobody is there to greet me, but the doors are unlocked, so I let myself in.
“Hello?” I call out in a hushed tone, excitement—and maybe a little trepidation—making my pulse jump. “Anybody there?”
At the far end of the dining room, the door to the private function space falls open, spilling out a column of golden light. I weave my way around the empty tables, past the dark kitchen, and hesitate for as long as it takes to figuratively pinch myself. My fingers tremble a little as I push on the door, not knowing what to expect.
I inhale sharply when I see what waits on the other side.
The space was designed for intimate functions, but vaulted beamed ceilings and floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the vineyards give it a sense of understated elegance. In the middle of the room is one long, oversized timber table without any chairs, each end topped with clusters of flickering pillar candles surrounded by loosely scattered red roses. The center of the table is littered with loose rose petals, and there’s also a basket of fat red strawberries alongside a silver bucket of champagne on ice. Gentle music plays from a hidden sound system, adding the finishing touch to what feels like some kind of Valentine’s Day altar.
I take a tentative step forward, searching for the shape of Dylan in the shadowy corners of the room, before a floorboard creaks behind me and I spin around.
A giggle bursts from me before I clap a hand to my mouth, but it still bubbles out between my fingers. The same way arousal coils behind my navel and lust gathers between my thighs.
Dylan stands at the door to the room wearing nothing but a crisp white apron tied around his waist, a sexy black bow tie around his neck, and that ridiculous white chef’s hat on his head.
Oh, and the most breathtaking smile I’ve ever seen.
“You like?” Dylan opens his muscled arms, inviting me to ogle his carved stomach with the sharp V-lines at the hips, his smooth, hard pecs, and his broad, ropey shoulders. My mouth falls open as he twirls in slow motion, showing off thick thighs, a muscled back that ripples and dances, and finally…
A whimper escapes my throat. Sweet Baby Jesus. Dylan is naked under that apron.Naked. And his curved, hard ass is twin globes of pure sink-your-teeth-into-these perfection.
“I like,” I reply with a breathy laugh of disbelief. “I likeverymuch.”
He sets his hands on his hips, blue eyes dancing in the candlelight as he flicks his gaze upward. “Even the hat?”
