She was pretty, but that tiny droplet of sweat and the way she licked it off with her kittenish, pink tongue, was so damned sexy it took every ounce of his self-control not to lean over and kiss her.
If she’d been any other woman, he would have. At forty-plus years, he had an easy confidence with women and wasn't shy, but Beth was his first greenhouse assistant— which technically made him her boss.
She smiled, and his cock twitched in his jeans.
Jesus, this was going to kill him. His gaze dipped to the dusky nipples just visible beneath the white, cotton tank top she wore. She had perky little breasts. They would fit in his mouth perfectly. Saliva flooded his tongue at the thought.
He swore he could smell her pussy nectar mingling with the other hothouse smells— Frangipani, Stargazer and Lilac perfumes, tangy green plant starter, and good old soil and water. She always wore skirts, so maybe she didn't wear panties. Maybe she was just as turned on by him. Maybe he should lift her right up onto the potting bench, spread her long, lean, legs wide and…
No. They had a job to finish, and though Alan was not one of those botanists who had an ego about what he produced— he grew just about anything, as long as he liked it—he was really excited about helping the New Orleans Botanical Garden rebuild by adding some of his collection to theirs. For a man who dabbled in horticulture as a hobby, it was thrilling contributing to such a worthwhile cause.
His greenhouse had been his solace since losing his wife, and though life was full, friends were many, and he was content, he had to admit this place was his own slice of heaven. When he wasn’t working, he spent most of his time tending his plants. Despite the automated systems, without someone watching over things while he was away, he’d be uneasy leaving, even for two days.
Beth, with her eager-to-learn attitude and quick mind, had proven herself a kindred, earth-loving spirit and a natural with the plants. She and Alan shared a love of the simple, unaffected beauty found in nature, and they both enjoyed coaxing life out of seed and seedling.
Alan watched her spread her fingers, gently cupping a newly sprouted orchid and easing it from its hydro-tube into the dirt needed for traveling. He imagined those slender hands milking his cock and groaned.
“You OK?” She blew wayward strands of brown hair from her face. One lock curled fetchingly around her right breast.
It was all he could do not to gawk like a teen-ager.
“I’m great, but we’ve been at it all day. How about a break?”
“Sounds good. Oh! I brought you something, a little treat from my garden.” She brushed her hands off before rummaging around in her backpack.
He grinned when she pulled out a large, shiny, red apple. “You trying to tempt me, Eve?”
“If I thought it would work, I’d bring you a bushel of apples.” Her eyes twinkled as she offered the fruit, held aloft on her palm.
“Hey, I've been tempted all summer. Didn't you know that?” He reached for the apple, letting his fingers drift over hers.
She stepped closer, so close her pebbled nipples pressed into his chest and his excited cock jutted through his jeans into her belly.
She smiled up at him. “I do now.”
The apple fell to the ground.
They stood together for what felt like forever, until she nodded and, in silent agreement, they kissed for the first time. The contact was electric—hot, sizzling chemistry made more so by months of subtle flirtations and longing.
He breathed in the scent of her—wet soil, tangy green plant starter, and heady flower perfume. “Beth,” he sighed.
She helped him lift the shirt from his body, and he stepped quickly out of his jeans. Pulling her down onto a huge pile of potting-soil, he did what he’d wanted to do for so long; he yanked up her skirt and buried his fingers between her legs.
He explored her mouth, his tongue dipping in for another taste, as his fingers parted the luscious folds of her dripping pussy. She was as ready as he was, as if the days of impassioned side-by-side work had been foreplay leading to this moment.
Covered in dirt and flower petals, her long legs spread wide in offering, she was like some mystical, erotic, woodland being. She reached for his cock, her hands hot and eager.
Needing no further invitation, and not wanting to wait another minute, he slid his prick into her velvety cunt. They rolled together in the dirt, the gritty soil on their skin acting as a catalyst for their fucking, heightening every sensation.
He fucked her slow. He fucked her hard. He fucked her just the way he’d wanted to for weeks. Beth responded with a woman’s experience and a girlish artlessness.
Limbs tangled like vines stretching in the sunshine, they moved in perfect unity. When they came, it was together, his juices gushing and mingling with hers. The explosion was quick, the climax intense. When it was over he rested, stunned, atop the dirt, quiet until she began to giggle, which set him off too. Together they laughed like kids and took turns hosing each other off.
“That was…,” she said, shivering visibly.
“Yeah. It really was.” He wrapped her up in his shirt and, taking her by the hand, led her up to his house, to what he sensed might someday be their house.
“Come with me to New Orleans tomorrow,” he said, stepping into the shower for a warmer, cleaner, round two.
“What about the greenhouse?”
“I think we can leave it for a couple of days,” Alan said, realizing it was finally true.