“I still haven’t seen everything this place has.”“You will, in time,” she says. “But that’s later. I’m still wet.”Luke looks over to the hose hanging off to the side and casts a devilish grin. He steps over to it, unravels a bit and turns on the water. “Wet, huh?”“I don’t mean like that,” she quickly interjects. “I haven’t watered the plants yet.”“I’m not interested in the plants,” he says.“No?” she asks, returning his grin with one of her own. “Give me that,” she says yanking the hose from his hands. “This could be devastating in the wrong hands.” She then sprays herself with the water. “Oops...” Her shirt goes transparent.Luke’s mouth drops open. Her breasts are showing through the fabric now. Her nipples strain against it. He looks around the patio on all three sides.“We picked these apartments because of the privacy,” she says assuredly. “We can be ourselves inside and out without worry. It’s just too bad the out part is so limited.”“There’s enough room,” Luke says with a. A long, stressful day of perpetual arousal was finally over, and her insides were ticklish with the knowledge of what she planned to do with those hands once they and the cottage were warm enough. Was it the chill that had her nipples hard as diamonds, or was it her plans for the immediate future? Or was it simply that it was nearly Christmas, a time of year when she had always seemed to get wound up more easily than ever? Probably all three, she mused, deliciously aware of the warm, wet sensation between her thighs against the chilly, dry air and enjoying the sweet torture of not giving in just yet to the arousal that had been teasing her all day. After a few uncertain moments, the bright crackling of the pitchwood gave birth to a small but sturdier flame from the big oak log, putting an official end to Maura’s long work day. Satisfied now that the entire guest cottage would soon be the toasty oasis she had been envisioning all day up at the Morrisons’ house, she turned on the.
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