A little while later, sitting on the shore, Duncan stands. Before I can ask where he's going, he bends down. When he turns, he's holding a half dozen or so bright yellow daisies. The flowers grow wild in the meadow, creating islands of gold within the sea of long green grass.
"For you," he says, handing them all to me as he adds a kiss to my cheek.
I reach for the flowers.
"So many?"
"So many firsts. My first walk with you in the woods, my first visit to your childhood lake." He laughs. "My first wild freshwater fish."
"Wild?"
He nods. "Didn't you see it? It jumped right out of the water. We're lucky we escaped with our toes. I've been on deep-sea charters that haven't yielded such dangerous fish."
Shaking my head, I roll the stems between my fingers and remind myself that this is pretend. "Thank you for saving me from the wild fish. Oh, and for my flowers."
"No… Thank you for showing me this place. I like learning more about you."
I lie back on the grass and stare up at the sky. Suddenly, my view is blocked as wide shoulders and a sexy grin lean over me. "You don't have to do this," I say. "All these sweet things."
"You're right. I don't." Duncan reaches for my chin and lifts my lips. With our noses nearly touching, he says, "And I don't have to do this either...but I want to." Our lips unite.
His kiss is soft and slow. With only a feather of a touch, he pushes away the sadness of our pretend performance and brings back the fantasy. I whimper as I lift my face, pushing upward, wanting more of him, and longing to feel his skin against mine. The heat builds as he adds more pressure. He tastes like coffee with a hint of bacon. It's when his tongue seeks entrance that I decide to stop worrying about what will happen when we get back to New York and enjoy what is right in front of me.
My fingers lace through his thick, dark hair as I pull him closer.
He sits up and looks around. "Can your grandma's binoculars reach way out here?"
"No," I say with a giggle, "but unless you knew this was going to happen, that box we picked up at the store is back in my room."
I can see the contemplation as he presses his lips together and his emerald eyes scan me slowly from head to toe. Like lasers to my flesh, his gaze ignites my skin. The heat builds, from the warmth equivalent to the sun's rays to smoldering white-hot coals in milliseconds. Finally, he says, "Then let me see you."
"You can see me. I'm right here."
"Kimbra."
The way he says my name—rolling from his tongue, deep and commanding—pinches my insides to a painful pitch. "Duncan?"
He reaches for the hem of my t-shirt and lifts. I don't argue; instead, I sit upward allowing him to remove it and then the camisole underneath. "Fucking perfect," he assesses as he dips his head lower to my breast.
I gasp as he teases my nipple, sending electricity straight to my core.
I push him back. "No way."
His eyes open in question.
"No way is my top coming off and yours is staying on. Take it off, Mr. Willis."
His grin quirks upward. "Fuck. Every time you walk in my office from this day forward, I'm going to replay that line in my head."
His biceps bulge as he reaches for the back of his shirt and lifts the t-shirt over his head, revealing his toned chest and abs.
I run my fingers down his torso to the indentations that accentuate the V near the band of his shorts. "Very nice."
His laser vision is back and my body reacts. Without so much as a touch, my nipples pebble to hard nubs, and Duncan nods his approval. "No, beautiful. Better than nice. Fucking perfect."
Chapter Fourteen
Kimbra
With our clothes back where they belong and the grass removed from my hair, we walk back toward the house. As if we both need the connection, our fingers intertwine and we move through the trees in sweet silence.
At the lake's edge, we'd made out like two horny teenagers, not like two adults who'd fucked like rabbits the day before. The urgency was different. We’d been together, united, the closest two people can be, but today we wanted more.
With the gentle breeze blowing across the water, we'd moved tentatively, tenderly exploring one another and taking in what we've missed in our five-month-long nonexistent courtship. Using all of our senses, we kissed and licked, teased and satisfied. Nothing was out of bounds as we touched and sought more. The only thing we didn't do was have actual sex.
Though the lack of condoms was our excuse, the reality seemed deeper.
There is something sensual in learning about one another, whether discovering that I'm insanely ticklish on my stomach or that Duncan's warm breath behind my ears causes my entire body to erupt in goose bumps.
I also learned a few important facts about him, ones that don’t appear in Buchanan and Willis’s dossier.
Duncan Willis is also ticklish, but his secret spot is the soft skin behind his knees. And when he's erect, his impressive penis points upward. On his left arm, he has a small scar from a dog bite from when he was young. Lastly, in the sunlight the gold flecks in his eyes become more prominent.
Together we lay in the sunshine and watched wisps of clouds float overhead. We playfully argued about the pictures they created. Where I saw a dog, he saw a horse. I suppose it's true what they say: size matters.
We may have even napped until a deer rustled the grass nearby.
If last night in my bedroom had been the most erotic experience of my life, the way we spent the morning was the most sensual. Our bouquet is growing. The flowers are multiplying at unknown rates. Each one is different—unique. The boundary between reality and make-believe is blurring. Soon, the vase with our flowers will overflow and shatter.
Once again back on the path to the house, Duncan pulls my hand and stops. "Before we get back to your family, I want to tell you something."
I take a deep breath, ready for whatever he's about to say. Maybe this is all too weird. Maybe he wants to go back to New York today. Hell, he has a plane. He could do that. Maybe he wants to come clean to my family and tell them that this is all pretend.
I lift my gaze to his, expecting the worse. "What do you want to tell me?"
"I know the weekend has only started..."
I hold my breath, refusing to cry.
"...but it's—"
I can't take the suspense. "If you need to leave, I understand."
His eyes spring wide. "What? Leave? No." He lets go of my hand and reaches for my shoulders. "Is that what you want?"
"No, but this is all so different than what you're used to. You can admit that."
Duncan nods. "It is. And I'm having the time of my life."
"You are?"
"I am. And I wanted to tell you—"
"Kimberly Ann, Kimberly!" My mother's voice calls from the porch.
Duncan kisses my forehead. "I'm having a great time. Stop worrying."
I nod against his soft t-shirt, recalling every line and ripple of his toned chest beneath the fabric.
Mom's arm is waving as she repeats my name. "Your cousin has called a hundred times. Where have you two been? What am I supposed..."