Glow (22 page)

“I'll manage,” she croaked.

He smiled. “Good.” Disappointment spiked through her when he stepped back and took her hand.

“Should I wear shoes?” she asked uncertainly, glancing down at her bare feet.

“You won't need them. Follow me.”

She was a little surprised when, instead of leading her down the grand staircase and downstairs toward the terrace entrance, he led her in the opposite direction and down the west hallway.

“Where are we going?” she asked, even more confused when he led her up the staircase instead of down a moment later.

“You'll see.”

“Oh, the back porch,” she said happily a moment later when they finally arrived at the narrow set of stairs that she recognized. Dylan had taken her here last week in order to watch the sunrise. Even though the rear porch appeared to be rarely used and weatherworn, Alice had found it extremely romantic and lovely. She especially loved the huge old porch swing.

Dylan turned toward her as he reached for the door. “Close your eyes.”

She followed his instructions, unable to repress her grin.

She heard the latch on the door and he tugged on her hand. She walked several feet blinded, guided only by his hand.

“Okay. Just stand there for a few seconds and keep your eyes closed. No cheating.”

“Hurry up,” she insisted amusedly after what felt like forever. Was that the sound of a lighter being struck? “The suspense is killing me.”

“Patience,” he remonstrated. She felt his hand enclose hers.

“Okay. Open them.”

It took her several seconds to absorb what she was seeing. The entire veranda had been transformed into a romantic fairyland. It'd been repainted. The wood floors and beamed ceiling a soft gray that matched the limestone of the house, the railing and large porch swing were a pristine white. The wrought iron chaise lounges had been spruced up with cheery red cushions. Pots of
colorful red and white flowers had been set along the railing. Interspersed between them were glowing, flickering lanterns. Several small leafy trees in large pots had been placed along the back of the veranda, and someone had intertwined strings of tiny white glowing lights on them. In the center of the porch a round cloth-covered table had been placed along with two chairs. The table was a feast for the eyes, decorated with a low crystal bowl of lush purple hydrangeas and flickering candles. Before each chair sat a silver domed dish.

A small lacy three-tiered cake and a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket had been placed on a side table. The pretty little cake was lit with candles on each layer, making it look like a glowing confectionary tower.

“Happy birthday,” Dylan said, leading her toward the cake.

“It's all so beautiful,” she murmured, wide-eyed, soaking in all the minute details around her with wonder. Her gaze landed on the white railing and flowerpots. He watched her reaction warmly. A heady feeling rushed through her. “You remembered what I said that day about how the railing should be white, and flowerpots should be in front of it.”

“I never came up here when you were small, and I've never seen any photos,” he said, his hand moving at her back. “When you said that it should be white with flowerpots, that was my only hint of what this porch looked like twenty years ago.” He nodded at the cake. “Well? Make a wish.”

She swallowed thickly, finding it hard to focus with so much happiness crowding her consciousness.

I wish I could live up to it all,
she thought, her gaze wandering over the lovely veranda and thinking of everything it entailed. It landed on Dylan.
Please let me be what he truly wants—
me
—not freedom from the burden of grief and guilt he's felt all these years.

She blew out the candles . . . all twenty-four of them.

“Do you think it was a real memory? The one about the white
railing and the pots of flowers and my love of the porch swing?” she asked Dylan after he'd seated her at the table and sat down across from her.

“I see no reason why not. Louise and Marie both assured me that the color choices were ideal, one way or another.” He lifted the champagne from the ice, his brows arched in a question.

“Please,” she murmured, going back to staring all around and admiring the romantic setting. “So Louise and Marie helped you with this?”

“Couldn't have done it without them. I had some painters come in a few days ago. Louise did all the decorating and flowers. She's been at it all day. Marie prepared our meal and baked your cake.” He set her champagne flute down in front of her. “The only thing I did was follow Marie's instructions for heating the dinner. Let's hope I didn't blow that.” He whipped off the domed lid and Alice stared down at a steaming, beautifully presented meal.

“Chicken cordon bleu, rice pilaf, and braised asparagus. They both say happy birthday, by the way. Louise and Marie, I mean. I gave them the day off tomorrow—I wanted the house to ourselves—so they told me to be sure to tell you for them.”

“That was nice of them. This is wonderful. Thank you.”

“Like I said, I didn't do much,” he assured, removing the dome from his own plate and setting it on the serving table.

She reached across the table and caught his hand. He glanced up in surprise.

“It's the exact opposite of nothing. You planned it all. No one has ever given me a birthday dinner before, let alone one like
this
.”

His mouth pressed into a hard line. “Never?”

“It's okay,” she assured, grinning. “This makes up for it all.”

“If only that were true,” he said quietly.

She swallowed thickly, regretting the shadow that fell over his features. She shouldn't have brought it up. The reminder of his regret when it came to her—when it came to Addie—had thrown
a temporary pall upon the magical moment. She was eager to make it disappear.

“I have a little surprise, too,” she said brightly, reaching for the tie on her bathrobe. She stood and went over to a chaise lounge, the fluffy robe falling past her shoulders. She laid it on the cushion and turned to face him, holding her breath. His expression went rigid as his stare lowered over her.

“You said I could wear whatever I wanted,” she said tremulously, affected by the heat of his gaze. “It was one of the things in the lingerie you got for me last week,” she added when he just continued to stare.

“I bought you a nightgown. You've turned it into an event.”

She blushed in pleasure. What had he meant,
an event
? Whatever it was, she knew by his stare it was a compliment. “It fits really well,” she agreed lamely, taking a step toward the table. It was an understatement. The dark blue and silver fitted gown might have been made for her. It dipped very low and cupped her breasts, rib cage, and waist before it flared ever so slightly, still skimming sensually against her belly and hips. An inch of elasticized black lace was the only thing that covered her nipples. The upper mounds of her breasts were fully displayed. Her cheeks warmed even further as Dylan continued to eat her up with his stare. She stepped toward the table to take her seat again, but Dylan caught her hand and pulled her toward him. His stare was fixed on her breasts.

“Turn around. Let me see you,” he urged gruffly.

Arousal prickled at her clit in response to his hungry expression. She turned slowly.

“Hold still,” he directed when her back was to him. She looked over her shoulder. The gown was backless. His gaze traveled downward, making her naked spine flicker in awareness. When it reached her ass, he reached and stretched the silky material over a buttock. He cupped the cheek in his palm and squeezed. Her sex tingled in excitement. Slowly, as though he was relishing the anticipation, he
lifted the fabric, exposing her buttocks. He caressed the bottom curve of her ass with his fingertips. She exhaled shakily at the intimate caress combined with his intent stare.

“No panties. You really are going to turn this into an event,” he said. He released the fabric. She blinked when she heard a brisk metallic sound, and then another. He'd placed the domed warmers back on their meals. His hands on her hips, he turned her and brought her closer, opening his thighs. He stopped her when she stood just inside his knees. She watched, holding her breath, as he ran his fingertips over her silk-covered belly. His expression was almost feral. A sharp thrill went through her. She didn't know why, but she loved it when he grew single-minded in his arousal. A fool might have thought he became selfish in those moments, but Alice knew the truth. His sexual hunger fed her. She loved being the object of his lust.

His hand lowered. He brushed her mound very lightly with his fingertips through the silk. Pleasure tingled through her at his touch. Her nipples tightened beneath the lace. She whimpered softly, and he looked up. The candlelight gleamed in his eyes.

“You're so lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“I'm going to have to have you. Your dinner will have to wait. Cake, too.”

“I'm very patient,” she whispered, trapped in his dark eyes.

“No, you're not. Neither am I.”

Still holding her stare, he once again brushed his fingers against her mound, his fingertips finding the cleft between her labia. He rubbed gently against the silk. The subtle pressure made her tremble.

“You're like something out of a fantasy. So beautiful. So primed to my touch.”

She exhaled shakily and reached for him, longing to dig her fingers in his hair. He stopped her by grabbing her wrists and placing them at her sides.

“Keep them there, or I'll tie them behind your back.” His tone was mild enough, but the flash of steel in his stare told her he was serious. He cradled her hips in both his hands, then ran his palms along her waist and the sides of her body. She shivered in pleasure.

“Cold?” he murmured.

“No,” she replied. The summer air was warm and a little muggy. It was his skimming hands that were making her tremble. He brushed his hands over the top of her breasts. His forefingers dipped beneath the clinging lace, pushing the fabric beneath her nipples. His low, rough growl of satisfaction caused arousal to stab at her clit.

“Look at that,” he muttered, his gaze glued to her protruding nipples. “You're the feast here tonight, Alice. I'm going to savor you.” His stare flickered up to her face. “And then I'm going to gorge myself on you. Are you ready for that?”

The edge to his lust intimidated her a little, but also excited her hugely.

“Without a doubt.”

His mouth softened slightly at her eager reply. He lowered her gown down to her waist, baring her breasts completely.

“Good. Let's start with some appetizers and champagne.” He leaned forward. With his hands at her hips, he pushed her back slightly, as though he wanted a full view of her. He grasped her wrists and raised her hands. “Touch your breasts.”

Alice cupped the mounds uncertainly. His request made her a little self-conscious. Especially when he leaned back in his chair and picked up his champagne glass. He took a sip, watching her all the while like a hawk about to pounce on its prey.

“You have uncommonly beautiful breasts. Firm. Soft. Fat pink nipples that turn so hard with the slightest stimulation. Touch them now,” he commanded gruffly. Alice ran her fingertips over the crests, loving the way his eyes narrowed and glittered greedily. With his elbow on the arm of the chair, he pressed his fingertips against his whiskered jaw and mouth in a manner that distracted Alice
thoroughly. All the things he'd said about her breasts struck her as true for the first time. The skin felt satiny smooth beneath her hands, the mounds firm and soft. Her nipples stiffened beneath her circling fingertips and Dylan's hot, focused stare. Experiencing her power over him thrilled her. She pinched lightly at the beading crests. Recalling something he'd done in the den this afternoon that he seemed to enjoy, she lifted the mounds and released, bouncing them softly.

He groaned roughly through a snarl. “Again,” he said. She gladly complied. His little game was turning her on. She bounced her breasts. He took a sip of his champagne and watched while she pinched at her nipples. His hand moved to his crotch. Alice moaned shakily, watching him while he stroked his cock through his clothing as intently as he watched her.

“I'm showing you mine. Show me yours.”

A smile curved his mouth. “Would you like that?” he asked, still rubbing his hand up and down along the shaft of his cock slowly. He was killing her. She could see the outline of him clearly though his pants, his stroking fingers molding the fabric against his erection. Her mouth watered.

“Yes, please.”

“How can I refuse a
polite
request from Alice Reed when the occurrence is so seldom,” he said, smiling at her frown. He fleetly unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants. He kicked off his shoes and drew off his socks before standing to remove his pants and boxer briefs completely. Alice watched in mounting excitement. He sat back down in his chair and lifted his shirt. She gasped softly at the vision of his erect cock lying against his taut belly, the candlelight casting it in a rosy gold hue.

He cupped his round, shaved testicles and slid his hand along the shaft. She shivered in excitement.

“I wouldn't have agreed to do it if I thought you'd stop,” he said with a dark glance.

Alice blinked. She'd been so mesmerized by the sight of him, her hands had fallen to her sides.

“Hands back on your breasts,” he instructed. “Hold them up for me. That's right,” he muttered as she did what he said. He stroked his cock more firmly. “Keep holding them up and play with the nipples.”

Alice did everything he asked of her, becoming increasingly aroused by her own touch . . . by the powerful vision of him stroking his cock. In one hand, he held his champagne, which he sipped occasionally as he watched her. His other hand fisted and pumped his erect cock. Alice felt very much on display, like she was putting on a show for his pleasure. Maybe it should have offended her, but it didn't. Instead, it aroused her intensely.