Page 80 of Summer At Willow Tree Farm

He found her ear lobe and bit into the tender flesh. She choked out a sob, all her performance anxiety issues dissolving in the rush of blood to regions that had been neglected for far too long. He nuzzled, sucking the rampaging pulse, as rough hands sank beneath the waistband of her flannel pyjamas to cup her bare bottom.

She jolted, hot breath skating over her skin, as the ache became heavy and insistent.

‘It’s just sex, Ellie,’ he rasped.

Just sex.

She spread her fingers determined to believe it, absorbing the hard planes of muscle and sinew.

Art was a mercurial and enigmatic man. And she had always wanted him, even as a girl. Why not take this for herself? It would be their secret and no one would ever need to know.

The tension that had been punishing her for days, for weeks, sang a hallelujah chorus in her blood. She tipped her head back, and lifted her hands to rub the day-old stubble on his cheeks, loving the rugged feel of him, absorbing the sublime strength in his jaw. Arousal darkened his irises to rich chocolate. Her pulse leapt at the evidence he was as wild for her as she was for him.

She could have this. They could have this. It would be their secret.

‘How about it?’ he asked.

She nodded, the power of speech having deserted her.

The quick grin made her heart stutter, before he turned his head to bite into her thumb, the playful nip sending sensation shuddering down.

He bent and scooped her into his arms.

She choked out a laugh, exhilarated and overwhelmed, as he carried her to the bed and placed her on the coverlet.

‘Time to get naked, Princess Drama,’ he said.

She laughed, joy and excitement battling in her chest with the swooping beat of affection.

*

Art felt the rush of blood southwards, as the adrenaline mainlined into his bloodstream.

This was mad. Certifiable. He’d been telling himself that for days, for weeks, ever since she’d watched him from the edge of the millpond. But with his hands on her at last, her subtle sexy scent driving him nuts, mad seemed like the only way to go.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. Hadn’t even been able to keep out of her way any more. When she’d told him she wanted it too, had made it clear that whatever she’d said three days ago, her desire for him wasn’t in question, he’d had all the permission he needed to demand more.

Everything else was just practicalities. Sex was simple, and satisfying, and would take this ache away.

He perched her on the edge of the bunk, then gripped his T-shirt and hauled it over his head. He flung it aside, gratified when her gaze fixed on his chest. ‘Lose the pyjamas.’

‘Stop acting like a caveman.’ Her chin took on that stubborn tilt he’d become addicted t

o.

‘Then stop wasting time,’ he countered. ‘We haven’t got all night.’

She huffed, but did as she was told, undoing the buttons on the soft cotton top. Underneath was a wispy lacy thing that moulded to her breasts and did nothing to disguise the shadow of her nipples.

Arousal gripped the base of his spine. He kicked off his boots and ripped open his flies, releasing the aching erection confined in his shorts.

‘Do you have protection?’ she asked, as she wiggled out of her pyjama shorts.

‘Yup.’ He reached over to prise open the draw on the bedside table, digging out the box of condoms he had stuffed there yesterday, while convincing himself he wasn’t going to use them.

Now that she was here, delightfully naked as she perched on the bed, her arm drawn tight over those lush breasts, he knew that was a big fat lie.

After dropping the box on the bed, he finished tearing off his clothes.