Valentine standing in the moonlight in a t-shirt that just barely covers her ass, no pants, and her hair falling around her shoulders, catching the light, is the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

My cock strains against my shorts.

I’ve been sitting here for an hour. Minnie had a rough time falling asleep, and the silence is almost too fucking precious to waste on sleep. I never thought I’d see Valentine making her way across her yard, then mine, with her head held high and shoulders back.

She hesitated at the front door, though, and I couldn’t help myself. Her nipples went hard when I scared her, and they’re still hard. She’s not wearing a bra beneath the t-shirt.

A part of me wants to stay in the house. I shouldn’t touch her. I shouldn’t go any further than we’ve already gone, because if I do that—if I do anything more—I’m not going to be able to stop myself. A hot, fast, reckless fling sounds like heaven, but if I get in too deep, it’s going to be hell. And I can’t take any more of that right now.

But I also can’t leave her out there. My hands ache to touch her.

“More than that?” She bites her lip, then grins. “Should I come in?” She shifts her weight toward the door.

“No.”

Valentine stops dead at the word, eyes wide.

“No?”

“Stay right where you are.” I see the shiver that runs through her. “Don’t move.”

“Okay,” she says softly, but by the time the word is out of her mouth, I’m moving to the front door.

The air is humid and sultry as fuck, running over my skin the moment I step outside. Lakewood is quiet in a way that New York City never will be. It’s so quiet that sometimes it hurts my ears. But tonight, for the first time, I notice the whisper of the wind through the trees. Over that, I can hear Valentine breathing. Her hard nipples press against her shirt with every single breath. She’s trembling, even though the air is warm, her hand tight around her phone.

I’m almost to her when she crosses her arms over her chest and cocks her head to the side. “Ryder, what kind of game—”

I close the gap between us and wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her to me, pressing the length of her body against mine. I’m a little rougher than I intended, but Valentine gasps, and I look down into her eyes, colorless in the light of the moon, for any hint that she’s not into this.

There is no such hint. Her entire body is leaning into me, and her free hand is on my bicep, her grip hard.

“Not a game,” I say firmly. “A fling.” I reach up to the wide collar of her shirt and yank it to the side, lowering my head to her collarbone. She gasps when I flick my tongue over the smooth skin there. The low almost-moans begin when I work my way up her neck, punctuating the kisses with words that have her pressing against me, somehow even closer than before. “A too-spicy fling. You’re going to be on fire for me, Valentine.”

She tilts her head back, giving me easier access to the side of her neck, and groans. “Shouldn’t we take this inside?”

“And burn down my rental house? I don’t think so.” She feels so damn good in my hands, even when she makes a little show of pulling away.

“We’re in the front yard...” Her voice is low and sexy near my ear.

I tighten my grip around her waist, and she doesn’t resist a second time. “Haven’t you ever had an orgasm in your front yard?”

Valentine sucks in a breath, and I kiss her neck slowly, moving upward one inch at a time until I reach her jawline. Her little gasps come quicker when I wrap one hand around the base of her jaw, holding her in place. A shiver that looks a hell of a lot like pleasure runs through her at my touch.

She hasn’t seen anything yet.

“You can go if you want to,” I murmur into her ear. “If you’re worried about someone seeing—”

“I am.” She’s practically breathless, and it strikes me that she’s telling me the absolute truth in this moment. There’s no pretense, no bullshit, no hesitation—not real hesitation, anyway, not in this moonlight, which is so bright you could mistake it for a streetlight if you were half drunk.

I’m stone cold sober unless you count how intoxicated I feel being this close to Valentine. The urge to lower her to the ground and take her right the fuck now is so strong that every muscle aches with it. The only thing stopping me is the possibility that this hotter-than-hellfire fling might burn out too quickly if I make that move tonight. No part of me wants to risk that. I want this to last every moment that it can.

Valentine might be worried, but she’s not so worried that she’s willing to walk away from me. There’s a spark in her eyes, just barely visible. I lean down and kiss her, deeper and harder, her tongue dueling with mine the moment I press past her lips. Jesus, she tastes good. She raises her hands to hold onto my arm like a drowning woman would hold a life preserver. I can feel her legs shaking.

I take that as a challenge.

I can make them shake harder.

I’ve got one hand on the back of her head, pulling her in, and she moans into my mouth, pressing herself against me, hard nipples brushing my chest through both of our shirts. That’s all I need to lower my hand, grazing her waist, her hips, the front of her shirt, and the hem, low, low down.

When I hook a finger into the waistband of her panties, she makes a kind of animal noise that has my cock standing out so hard it hurts.

“Let me in,” I growl into her ear, feeling that first bit of control snap into pieces and fall to the ground. I’m yanking her panties down, and her mouth is back on mine. “Let me in.” 

Valentine whimpers just a little as she spreads her legs, feet planted firmly on the ground, and finally, finally, I’ve got my fingers diving into her wet folds. She makes a sound like I’ve never heard any woman make before, and it turns electric and deep when I press my thumb against her clit.

I’m stroking her, playing her like a fucking violin, and Valentine loves it. Her hips rock against my hand, back and forth, back and forth, and she’s getting slicker by the second. The kiss slips into moans against my mouth, and after a minute I realize she’s saying something. I pull back.

“Please,” she begs, and I feel like I’ve been struck by lightning. “Please make me come.”

“Right here in the front yard?” I’m not teasing her anymore. I can tell how much this turns her on. “Right here, where anyone can see?”

“Yes.” 

“You love being dirty like this, don’t you?”

She opens her eyes wide, her hands sliding up to brace against my shoulders. She’s trembling so hard now that I have to lower my hand to her back, hold her in place. I don’t stop running my fingers over her hot slit for a second. We can talk all she wants. I’m going to keep up this rhythm until she explodes.

“Yes.” The word is a whisper that goes straight to the center of me.

I turn her head to the side so I can growl into her ear. “You’re not an innocent little waitress after all.”

“I’m not,” she says, and her breath hitches. “I’m so scared someone might see us—”

“You love the thought of being seen like this, with your legs spread wide for me, with my hand stroking that sweet pussy. You love it.” Valentine tenses. She’s right on the edge. “Say it for me, love. Say it.”

“I love it.” She cries the words into the night air, and I take the opportunity to thrust two fingers into her opening, my thumb circling her clit.

I feel Valentine start to come, her muscles clenching around my fingers, and I brace for the wave to hit.