Chapter Five
Cassie tossed and turned all night. A ghost of a lover loomed over her with amber eyes, and as she twisted her hands in his hair and urged him to drive her over that peak, he disappeared. Over and over again, he returned to drive her to madness only to dissolve into a mist at the last minute.
There was just something about him that she couldn’t put her finger on. It was more than just the clear signs that he was attracted to her. It was more than just the obvious notion that she was attracted to him. She’d felt an invisible cord reach out and wrap around her. No matter where she was, she knew when he was near. It was impossible, and it had made her run just has as hard and fast as she could in the opposite direction.
Finally, as the sun rose over the horizon, she called it a night. An hour later, she was a pot of coffee in and scribbling furiously on her notepad. If she couldn’t sleep, she’d work.
A knock at the door interrupted and made her jump. “Christ,” she muttered, disgusted with herself. All it had taken was one look from a man to make her absolutely worthless even hours later. What was wrong with her?
She blew out her breath in an effort to get ahold of herself before crossing the kitchen to open the door.
A vase of a dozen long stemmed white roses stood on the porch.
For a second, she just stared. There was no way. There was absolutely no way they were from him. She leaned out the window and scanned her driveway and street. There was no sign of anyone, but she could feel him lingering somehow.
She reached down and picked up the card.
All night long, in my dreams, I reached out to you. I can only hope that somehow, I was able to touch you.
“No. No, no, no, no,” she chanted. “This is not happening.” Heart pounding in her chest, she leaned out the entrance. “If you’re thinking of stalking me, I will call the police!”
Gripping the card, she slammed the door shut.
Of all the nerve. He found out where she lived? Just because she had a reaction to him, a sexual pull, did mean that she was actually interested in him. She didn’t want to be wooed. She didn’t belong to him.
Three minutes later, she opened the door again and snagged the roses.
There was no point in letting them go to waste.
He grinned wickedly as he watched her freak out on her porch. The card had the desired effect.
This was going to be fun.
She was halfway through her tormented series of burpees when the next knock came. Caught off balance, she shrieked and fell to the floor. Her body was screaming for a break, but at least it wasn’t screaming for his touch. She rolled over on her back and gasped for breath.
He wouldn’t be daring enough to try it again. Would he?
Curiosity got the best of her, and she hauled herself up and opened the door again.
This time, they were long stemmed yellow roses.
I dreamed that your skin would be as silky as these petals, and I long to brush my fingers over your most sensitive spots and make you quiver. I long to run my tongue gently over your curves and make you moan.
“Oh yeah?” she yelled. “Well my vagina is going to be as sharp as these thorns if you’re thinking of sticking anything inside!”
She heard a gasp to her left and smirked as she leaned around the corner. Only it wasn’t him. Her elderly neighbor was watering his bushing and she cringed. “Sorry Mr. Caswell. That wasn’t meant for you.”
He gave her a severe look of disapproval, and she sighed, collected, the roses, and moved inside.
Now she would have to do a whole new round of burpees.
Tow hours later, the third knock came. She launched herself from the table where she’d been gorging on a bowl of ice cream and threw open the door.
No beautiful blonde Adonis. The new roses were swirls of orange and yellow.
Your folds will be as wet as the dew on these flowers, and when I finally taste you, you will be as soft and sweet.
She swallowed hard as she imagined him dipping his tongue inside her, and she nearly moaned. Cursing, she stomped down and searched the yard. He had to be here. There was no way he was sending these and not waiting around for a reaction.
“This is harassment,” she announced as she searched under the bushes. “And you are wasting your time. Okay? I have a boyfriend,” she lied. “I have ten boyfriends. And I don’t have room for another.”
But there wasn’t a trace of him. Sighing, she stomped back in the house.
At this rate, she’d have to pull her vibrator out.
The pink roses were next.
Will your nipples be as pink as these roses? Will your cheeks flush with excitement when I run my tongue over your peaks and pull at them with my teeth?
He watched from a safe distance as she turned red. Was it his imagination, or did she just moan a little?
The deep blue roses followed.
The dark beauty of these roses will be nothing compared to the sight of your release. I long to hear the breathy sighs of your pleasure, the muffled screams, the uncontrollable moans, the gasps as I wrench from you the most secret of actions. Over and over again. Fingers. Tongue. And finally, myself.
On yeah. Max smirked. That was definitely a moan.