Playfully harassing and poking fun at each other throughout the meal, the combination of the easy laughter and shared flirtatious glances feed the arousal blossoming in my gut, and by the time we get ready to leave, I’m a ball of raging hormones. When he reaches across the table to wipe away some errant barbeque sauce from my mouth, my new bold, uninhibited alter ego comes out to play, drawing his thumb in between my lips and sucking seductively.

His ravenous green eyes are trained on my mouth as a low growl emanates in the back of his throat, now hungry for something other than food. “We need to leave before I help myself to dessert right on top of this table,” he rasps, “and I’m not talking about their double-layered chocolate cake.”

Releasing his thumb with a loud pop, I demurely bat my lashes, offering my best doe eyes, and whisper, “No? What about vanilla cream pie? Is that more your style?” Seriously, what in the world has gotten into me?

“Let’s. Go. Now.” The muscles in his jaw flex as he tosses a couple of twenties on the table, and stands up, motioning for me to do the same.

With his hand pressed firmly at the small of my back, we hastily walk out of the restaurant, the pressure between my thighs intensifying with each step. The second we’re inside my car, the air between us is so thick with sexual tension, I can hardly breathe. I’ve never been in a situation like this, and more than anything, I don’t want to fuck it up.

Thankfully, Crew seems to be having the same problem as I am, because he wastes no time crashing his lips to mine, reviving life back into me with each stroke of his tongue. Losing myself in the kiss, desire storms through me as I paw at his shirt, frantic to get the buttons undone.

“Not here, not in your car,” he pulls away, panting with longing. “Is there anywhere we can go?”

“Umm…” The heat around us, the inferno raging inside me, hinders my ability to think rationally. “There’s only one place I can think of with any privacy…well, at least somewhere we can lock from the inside that isn’t my bedroom.”

He slides his hand up my leg and squeezes my thigh, his lust-filled gaze rivaling the passion blazing through me. “Drive, beautiful.”

Not a single word is spoken during the twenty minute drive back to the resort, and when we pull into the long, winding drive, I’m careful to park as far away from my family’s house as possible, hoping to go unnoticed. We spring from the car, meeting in front of the hood, and hurry off under the light of the late afternoon sun—almost an afterthought in the clear sky—in the direction of the greenhouse.

Fumbling with the two padlocks, I finally undo and remove them, and then swing the door open, ushering him in. I secure the locks on the inside of the sturdy door before spinning around to find a shirtless Crew standing amongst hundreds of pot plants. Oh, my word, there is a God.

Suddenly, I’m nervous. This is real, and it’s happening. And I want it to. But…I’m really fucking nervous. I don’t want him to know. Any hesitation on his part and I’ll die. Or combust. And that wouldn’t be safe in here.

Frozen in place, I hiss sharply through my lips as he stalks toward me, gawking at the physical specimen that is Crew Elliott. My eyes rake over his bare, seamlessly sculpted chest and tan, corded arms, landing on the well-defined V that vanishes behind the denim of his low-slung jeans. Before I can gawk too long at the obvious erection straining to be freed behind his zipper, he raises his hands to the front button and I’m forced to bite my lip to keep from groaning as he unfastens and pushes them off his hips.

Then he’s fully naked, larger than I ever expected, the plants framing him in all his glory. Like the Garden of Eden, except opposite. And I want a bite of that apple.

He leers at me with an expectant grin, his eyes darkening with lust, eyebrows raised as he waits confidently. I don’t move right away, every muscle in my body taut with expectation, as I’m afraid I might melt onto the floor, and I don’t want to miss any of this. Stalking toward me, he grasps my hips and yanks me up against his hardness. Oh em gee.

“Like what you see?” he murmurs into my hair.

At a loss for words, I nod and tip my head to the side, granting his lips easier access to the soft skin on my neck. My hands begin to wander, and with every inch I explore, my reservations dissolve, my skin catches fire, and my clothes feel too rough, too tight. As if he senses my desperate need to get rid of the fabric, his fingers make quick work of unzipping my vest and hauling my turtleneck sweater over my head, tossing them both aside.

Trailing his hand along my collarbone then down to my chest, his fingertips slowly brush over my pebbled nipple as shivers spill down my spine. My bra whooshes off of me, joining the pile of discarded clothes, and the next thing I know, his mouth is on my breast and I’m crying out at the mix of pain and pleasure when his teeth rakes along my erect bud.

After treating the other boob to the same tantalizing behavior, he pulls back with his heavy-lidded eyes, and asks, “Do you have any idea how fucking hard I am for you? How badly I need to be buried inside you?”

His mouth slams down on mine as my hands slink around behind his neck, tangling in the soft waves sticking out under his beanie, while he walks us over to one of my worktables and sets me down on top of it. With pleading swipes of our tongues, our lips mold together in a desperate kiss that has my heart beating out the bass line of urgency. I need this with him more than I thought I could ever need anything.

Breaking our mouths apart, he drops to his knees in front of me and pulls off my boots, chucking them out of the way, then hooks his thumbs in the waistband of my pants, peering up at me with the silent request. I lift my hips, an open invitation to slip the leggings down my thighs and calves, which he fulfills in mere seconds, leaving me only in my white silky panties.

He straightens his legs, extending to his full height, as he scoots my body closer to him, my butt cheeks nearly hanging off the edge of the table. With one of his hands cupping the back of my neck, the other falls between my legs and softly strokes my sex over the flimsy piece of material, teasing and tormenting me while he peppers kisses across my jaw.

“You’re fucking soaked for me.” The words are gruff and arrogant, but they send a shot of electricity jetting through my veins, and I want more.

Never before have I felt so vulnerable in front of someone, naked in every sense of the word, and my body quivers from the frenzy of nerves whirling through me. “Crew,” I whimper, squirming against his feather-light touch. “More.”

Triumph blazes in his eyes, and then, with one abrupt movement, my panties are gone from my body and I’m completely exposed to him. His lips never break contact with my skin, floating from kissing my face to licking his way down my throat to sucking on my nipples, all while he pushes first one, then two fingers, inside me. My hips buck up off the table at the unfamiliar feeling, but he’s quick to soothe me with hushed whispers of my name, and as he begins to gradually glide them in and out while his thumb brushes back and forth over my swollen clit, I completely give myself over to him.

“Oh fuck, that feels amazing,” I moan as I lie back, resting on my elbows on the cool metal surface, watching as he steadily increases the pace of his fingers. With each thrust, something inside of me swells, something I have no control over, but I realize if he doesn’t stop, I’m going to explode. And God, the last thing I want is for him to stop.

Gratefully, he doesn’t, and before I can grasp what’s actually happening, I burst into a million tiny euphoric pieces, calling out his name as my inner walls clamp around his fingers. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. My eyes squeeze shut and a colorful display of starbursts and sparkling rays play out behind my lids while my entire body quakes with sheer ecstasy.