Chapter 3
Augustus Damiani glares at me and it”s even better than I imagined it would be.
My insides turn to jelly and leak into my panties.
What are the odds that he”d be willing to help me out with the v-card problem? Because now that I”ve had a chance to meet him in real life like this? I”m even more convinced he”s my number one pick.
I have to stop thinking about that. I have to stop thinking about him doing that. It”s making me delirious and I”m likely to end up doing something so embarrassing-- like literally throwing myself at him.
I”ve been crushing on guys since I was eleven but this is the first time I”ve met a guy that made me understand what it means to feel your clit throb just by being close to him. I think I”m sweating; I feel hot. And kinda itchy.
It”s probably just the warm afternoon sun. I”m being ridiculous. But I do have to get Hayle”s shirt off of me, pronto.
”Do you mind?” I hand the basket over to August, and strip the old flannel off like it”s a wool blanket. ”Thanks, it was too hot for the shirt,” I force an innocent smile, hoping he”s not onto me as I reach to take my basket of plants back from him.
He doesn”t hand it over. That discerning glare that has me in knots deepens and he watches me fold the old shirt over my arm with a frown like it insulted his mother.
”Nice flannel,” he says in a tone that makes it clear he doesn”t mean it.
”Huh? Oh...uh. It”s my brother”s,” I stare at the blue and tan plaid laid over my arm in confusion, then up at August”s dreamy dark eyes as I watch them soften as those sinful lips slide back into a smile.
”I can take the basket back,” I offer again, holding my hand out for it and making the huge mistake of brushing against him.
”Whoa, you okay?”
Augustus Damiani is holding my hand.
I am both very much okay and not at all okay. I think I literally swooned when I felt those rock-hard abs against the back of my hand as he pulled my flower basket farther from me. Now he”s got a firm grip on my hand and I”m sure he thinks he”s holding me up but honestly, he”s keeping me from floating away.
”Zephyr?”
This is a new tone for that silky, dark chocolate voice of his. A new look in those hauntingly deep brown eyes.
”Baby, you don”t have any water in your basket. When was the last time you drank water?”
He sounds worried. Is he feeling protective? He called me baby.
”I have a bottle in my car for when I get back.” I point in the general direction of where I left my car parked down by the lake.
”Come on, let”s go take care of you.”
August”s arm wraps around me and I shamelessly take full advantage of the opportunity to lean into his body as he steers me up the private road that leads to into the Turtle Dam ghost town.
There are so many rumors going around the Ridge about this man, I can”t keep track of them all, but one thing everyone agrees on it that he”s hiding from something-- and that he”s dangerous.
Gran told me he”s a mafia hit man. That he”s hiding out up here while he waits for heat to die down before he can go back to the city.
Then, when I was refilling the bouquets that Alice McAllister sells for me at her store, Alice said Gran has it all wrong and that August is hiding from the crime family he betrayed and that he”s in the witness relocation program.
Terra said that Hawk ran a background check on August when he showed up in town and that he really is just an electrical engineer, working for the power plant. No exciting criminal ties but a couple of fancy degrees from a college back east.
Whatever the truth about Augustus Damiani is, I am one hundred percent into these daddy vibes he”s putting off as he walks me into a big house at one end of the small village that”s now nothing but abandoned houses and empty stores.
”Sit,” he orders, pulling a chair away from a heavy, wooden table that sits between the kitchen and the living room.
”Drink.”
A glass of cool water from a filtered pitcher in the fridge gets set in front of me.
I”m not even thirsty-- August stands across the kitchen from me and leans back against the counter, crossing his arms and then his ankles as he levels a stern gaze at me and waits for me to down the water-- well, not thirsty for water, that is.
* * *
Augustus
Her brother”s flannel.
Relief has never felt more liberating, and that includes the day I made it back home in one piece.
I still don”t know why she”d come up here hoping to find me. From the sound of it, she”s already heard about me. Everyone else down in town steers clear of me, too scared of what they”ve heard to manage more than polite small talk. Except the deputy.
Hawkins seems like a decent guy. Under different circumstances we might have become friends-- but he”s recently married, with twins on the way by the end of summer. And that”s a stage of life I”m not likely to get to, myself.
The forest nymph at my kitchen table swallows down the last of the liquid in the glass and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
The gesture goes straight to my dick and the damn thing”s hard as stone again as I imagine her wiping my cum from those lips and looking up at me with the same self-satisfied grin, like she”s expecting a pat on the head for being such a good girl.
A growl escapes my chest.
”How are you feeling now?”
She still looks flushed. So many of those blonde highlights running through her hair have escaped the clip at the back of her head that they look like a halo shining in the sunlight filtering through the front windows.
Without her brother”s flannel shirt covering so much of her up, it”s easier to appreciate the fine curves filling out the top of that yellow dress, the peach-soft skin on display under the skinny straps that are doing double duty to hold up a set of truly magnificent tits, the full tops of which are tinged with a blotchy pink that contrasts with the light smattering of freckles.
I assume it”s a bit of heat stroke, standing out in the harsh sunlight too long without drinking enough water.
Thinking of her out there, not taking care of herself, has me wanting to scold her or even take her over my knee-- thinking about the way her round ass would jiggle and redden with my hand-print has me tightening my jaw, silently acknowledging that my motivation has less to do with teaching her to take better care of herself and a lot more about getting my hands on her perfect flesh...and marking it as mine.
”Better, I guess.” Zephyr”s eyes don”t quite make it all the way to mine when she answers. Her voice is breathier than when we were talking outside and I notice the way she chews her bottom lip as her gaze lays heavily in my direction.
”You sure?” She still looks a little out of it.
I”m about to force myself away from the counter where I”m reclining, desperately trying to find a casual position that relieves the ache of my dick. I”m planning to refill her glass, rummage through the fridge to see what I have on hand to get some sustenance in her, try to get her to tell me just what it was she was expecting when she came up here hoping to find me, when I see something that has me frozen in place.
A whispered oath moves past my lips in my second language. My fingers clenching the edge of the outdated laminate counter under me.
I cannot be seeing this. There must be a far more mundane explanation, flowers like Zephyr don”t bloom in the garden of my life.
”You speak Italian?”
The finely controlled movements of her upper arm still momentarily, her hooded gaze widening when she hears the soft string of words under my breath.
”My nonna wanted to make sure we were able to communicate with family in the old country,” I confirm with a nod, letting the knowing smirk that”s been fighting the corner of my mouth have its way when I see her lips fall open on a quiet sigh.
”What did you say?”
”I cursed the devil for letting me hope for such a gift,” I tell her truthfully.
The pink coloring her fair skin definitely has to do more with me than the high elevation sunlight. The blush deepens and spreads. Her eyes finally come all the way up to mine and a sly smile plays at the corners of her pretty lips while the small, measured movements return to the muscles of her left arm.
”Fiore mio, what are you hiding under my grandmother”s tablecloth?”
Zephyr stills, her eyes wide and alert like a mouse that knows it’s been spotted by a hawk.
”Nothing,” she swears emphatically in a voice so quiet it isn”t even a whisper.
A couple of quick steps is all it takes for me to cross the distance to her.
She squeals in shocked protest as I grab the chair by the seat beneath her tempting ass and pull it away from the table with a loud scrape across the tile flooring.
I might have embarrassed her, but she doesn”t make any move to deny what I”ve caught her doing.
He left hand is tangled in the fabric of her skirt, tucked tightly between thick thighs exposed where she”s lifted the dress and I know that if I brought her fingers to my mouth, I”d get a taste of the sweetest pussy that”s ever tempted me.
”Come here, fiore.”