Forbidden Fruit of a Gardener

"How reckless can you be, Juliette? Do you even realize what could have happened to you last night?" my mother's shrill voice cuts through my throbbing skull like a dagger.

I wince, cradling my pounding head in my hands as I sink into one of the plush armchairs in the sitting room. The remnants of last night's whisky still swirl in my stomach, making me want to retch. The last thing I need is another reprimand from my overbearing parents.

"You could have been killed, driving home in that state! Honestly, Juliette, what were you thinking?" my father chimes in, his usually stoic features twisted in a rare display of anger.

I drove home drunk and my parents found out. That is what this whole scolding session is about.

I open my mouth to respond, but the words catch in my dry throat. What can I say? That I've been trying to numb the relentless ache of loneliness that gnaws at me, even in the midst of the glittering social scene I'm expected to navigate? That the cold, stifling confines of high society suffocate me, leaving me desperate for even the briefest moments of reckless abandon? That being reckless is what makes me feel alive and uncontrolled?

No, they wouldn't understand. They never do.

"I'm sorry, alright?" I murmur, the words laced with a fatigue that goes far deeper than mere physical exhaustion. "It won't happen again."

My parents exchange a skeptical glance, clearly unconvinced by my halfhearted assurance. But I've long ago perfected the art of tuning out their disapproving lectures. As they continue to berate me, I let my gaze wander, seeking solace in the meticulously maintained gardens that stretch out beyond the bay windows.

If only I could escape to this place, away from the stifling judgment of my parents and the suffocating confines of this gilded cage they call a home. But for now, I have no choice but to endure their tirade, my head pounding in time with the guilt that gnaws at my conscience.

My parents exchange a skeptical glance, clearly unconvinced by my halfhearted assurance. "Sorry doesn't cut it, Juliette," my father says sternly. "This has gone on for far too long."

"We've given you chance after chance, and yet you continue to throw caution to the wind," my mother chimes in, her brow furrowed in a disapproving scowl. "If we catch wind of even one more incident like this, we won't hesitate to take away your car and your credit card. Do you understand?"

I clench my jaw, fighting the urge to lash out in frustration. As if losing my precious independence would somehow make me see the error of my ways. They just don't get it - this suffocating life they've created for me is what's driving me to these reckless acts in the first place.

"Yes, I understand," I mutter, my fingers digging into the plush armrests as I force myself to maintain an air of contrition. The last thing I need is to provoke them further.

"Good. Then we're done here." My father's tone brooks no room for argument as he turns and strides out of the room, my mother close behind him.

But before he reaches the door, he whirls back around, his face flushed with a mix of anger and disappointment. "Do you know how much I had to pay some paparazzi who caught you on camera drinking, partying and acting like wild animals with your friends? Do you know how that would have affected the family image if those photos of you got leaked online?"

I shrink back into the chair, my cheeks burning with embarrassment and shame. Of course I know - the very thought of such a scandal makes my stomach churn. Not that I wouldn't do what I did yesterday again, though. Oh, I am planning to.

"You are 19 years old now, Juliette. You are 19!" my father continues, his voice rising. "We have let you be a child for as long as you wished but now it is time to grow up. You have to live up to our family's legacy and succeed your mother and me. You should be out here taking acting classes and landing roles in movies and TV shows instead of drinking and partying all night. What the heck is wrong with you? We didn't raise you like this! Why can't you be more like your older sister, Madeline? She just finished shooting a blockbuster movie last week and is making us proud."

My parents are both renowned actors, their trophy cases overflowing with accolades. I know the immense pressure they feel to pass the torch, to ensure their family name remains synonymous with Hollywood royalty. But the thought of stepping into their footsteps fills me with dread, not excitement.

I hate being compared to my sister. If she is so good, then why can't see be the one who keeps the family legacy? Why try to force me to do it when she is already doing it so perfectly?

Before I can formulate a response, the worker pokes his head back in the room. "Pardon the interruption, sir, but the gardener is here to discuss the job position."

My father fixes me with a stern glare, his lips pressed into a thin line. "We'll continue this discussion later. In the meantime, I suggest you clean yourself up and start considering your priorities."

With that, he turns and sweeps out of the room, leaving me to stew in a cocktail of guilt, frustration, and the pounding ache in my head. Deciding I've had enough of their scrutiny for the moment, I push myself up from the chair. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go lie down for a bit. This headache is simply dreadful," I murmur, not waiting for a response from my mom before slipping out of the room and making a beeline for the kitchen and the medicine cabinet.

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I spend the whole day sleeping off the hangover, letting the pounding in my head gradually subside as I drift in and out of a restless slumber. By the time I finally pry my eyes open, the sun is high in the sky, signaling the next day has arrived. With a groan, I push myself up, my muscles protesting the movement.

Deciding I need to escape the stifling confines of this house, I make my way to the bathroom, the tile cool against my bare feet. I turn on the shower, letting the steam fill the air as I peel off my rumpled clothes from the day before. The hot water feels heavenly as it cascades over my aching body, washing away the remnants of my party night. I scrub my hair vigorously, making sure to remove any lingering trace of alcohol.

After thoroughly cleaning myself, I step out, wrapping a plush towel around my damp body. I brush my teeth, the minty taste helping to further revive me. Then, I apply a generous amount of fragrant lotion all over, the familiar floral scent calming my senses.

Wandering back to my room, I set about getting ready. I carefully style my hair, curling the ends to frame my face just so. With a practiced hand, I apply my makeup - eyeliner, mascara, a touch of blush. I want to look completely put-together, get myself all dolled up, every strand and every brushstroke precisely in place.

Finally, I spritz myself with a cloud of my favorite perfume, the intoxicating aroma mingling with the floral lotion. Satisfied with my appearance, I move to my expansive purse closet, scanning the rows of designer handbags. My gaze settles on a sleek black leather clutch, its gold hardware gleaming. It will pair perfectly with the black miniskirt and cropped top I have chosen, as well as my towering black heels. Grabbing the purse, I give myself one final once-over in the mirror, my lips curving into a coy smile. Time to go have some fun with the girls. All day, and all night.

I like hanging out with them because at least being with them is also like being alone in my room - a secluded oasis that shielded her from the cold, judgmental gaze of high society.

But on this crisp spring morning, as I move through the meticulously manicured pathways leading to the garage where my car is, my eyes are suddenly captivated by something too hot to look away.

A rugged, broad-shouldered figure moves purposefully among the vibrant flower beds, his tanned hands skillfully tending to the vibrant flowerbeds. I pause in my footsteps, captivated by the sheer physicality of the man - his sun-kissed skin glistening with sweat, his muscular frame straining against the worn fabric of his shirt.

I pause in my tracks, captivated by the sheer physicality of the man before me.

He is tall and imposing, his tanned skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. His muscular frame strains against the worn fabric of his shirt, the material clinging to the contours of his defined chest and arms. I can't help but let my gaze wander, appreciating the raw power and masculinity emanating from him.

"Excuse me," the stranger's deep, resonant voice calls out, pulling my attention to his face. "I didn't realize anyone else would be out here this morning."

His piercing eyes meet mine, and I feel a fluttering in the pit of my stomach. Suddenly self-conscious, I steel myself, unwilling to betray the surge of curiosity and attraction I'm feeling.

He has brown hair, grey eyes and a stubble beard. And I could guess his height, I would say it's 190 cm.

"I... I am on my way to get my car," I manage to say, my voice slightly unsteady as I bite down on my lower lip. There's something about this rugged, handsome stranger that has me utterly captivated. He looks so good, so tempting, that I find myself momentarily lost in the fantasy of what it would be like to have him.

The way he carries himself, the effortless grace with which he moves, has me practically aching to reach out and touch him, to run my hands along the contours of his body. He is everything I find irresistible - strong, confident, and undeniably attractive. In this moment, all I can think about is how much I want him already, how I want to know the feeling of his hands on me.

The man flashes me a disarming smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, then I suppose I've interrupted you. My apologies - I'm David Thorne, the new gardener. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss...?"

"Montgomery," I reply, extending my hand with practiced poise. "Juliette Montgomery."

My gaze lingers on him, taking in every alluring detail. The way his shirt strains against his broad shoulders, the light sheen of sweat glistening on his sun-kissed skin - it's all I can do to resist the urge to reach out and run my fingers along the contours of his muscular frame. There's an undeniable magnetism about him, a rugged, primal appeal that has me aching to know the taste of his lips, the feel of his calloused hands on my body. I bite down on my lower lip, holding his intense gaze. I can feel the familiar flutter of desire begin to build within me, urging me to close the distance between us, to give in to the forbidden temptation that he represents. This man, with his sheer physicality and undeniable charm, has awakened a hunger in me that I know I must satiate, no matter the consequences. But I know better than to just throw myself at someone I met just now.

But that doesn't mean I can't take him in my room after a little conversation, does it?

However, the moment I utter my full name, I notice a subtle shift in his demeanor. His expression becomes more guarded, the warmth in his eyes tempering slightly as he realizes I am the daughter of his new employer.

"Montgomery," he repeats, a hint of caution creeping into his voice. "I see. It's nice to meet you, Miss Montgomery."

I can't help but feel a twinge of disappointment at the sudden change, the promise of forbidden intimacy now colored by the weight of our respective positions. Still, I refuse to let this deter me. There's an allure to this man that I find utterly irresistible, and I'm determined to find a way to break through this little professional barrier. I am not the one who employed him, so I don't see why this would be inappropriate.

Although I would like it to be.

But would he see it like that being his employers daughter. Doesn't matter. The more forbidden the sweeter.

My dad just doesn't have to know, I think to myself and almost giggle. I just met this guy, but I don't care. I want him already. And I don't do too well with waiting. If I want something, I go for it the moment I see it.

Mustering a coy smile, I tilt my head slightly, allowing my gaze to roam brazenly over his rugged form. "The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Thorne," I murmur, my voice lowering to a sultry, conspiratorial tone. "I do hope we'll have the chance to get to know each other better."

As our fingers brush, I feel a jolt of electricity race through me, setting my nerve endings alight. In this fleeting moment of contact, I know with absolute certainty - this man, this forbidden fruit of a gardener, should be in my bed soon.

"So, I'll just keep working. It was nice to meet you, Miss Montgomery," he says to me, a hint of formality in his tone as he turns around with the large gardening shears in hand.

I look at him with interest. He is so professional, I like it.

I watch him intently, admiring the way his muscles flex beneath his shirt as he moves.

Suddenly my phone begins to ring in my pocket and I know it's likely one of my friends, probably Becca, wondering where I am. Because in this moment, they can wait. This man here looks like a tall big drink of water and I am thirsty.

I let the call go to voicemail, quickly firing off a "I'll call you back" text before slipping my phone back into my purse. With my undivided focus now on David, I can't help but feel a surge of anticipation.

Slowly, I take a step closer, allowing my gaze to roam unabashedly over his rugged features.

"So, David Thorne," I murmur, my voice low and sultry as I lean in slightly, my gaze roaming unabashedly over his rugged features. The stark contrast between his youthful, chiseled face and the salt-and-pepper of his hair is utterly captivating. "How old are you?"

"I'm 29 years old, Miss Montgomery," he replies, his deep baritone sending a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

He's 10 years my senior, a thrilling age gap that only serves to heighten the forbidden temptation. My father would definitely not like me being with anyone who is more than 3 years older than me. I remember he never let me go out with older guys in high school, only guys from my grade. It was his one big rule. So I am liking the fact that he is something I wasn't allowed to have all my life.

I can't help but wonder what it would be like to have those strong, calloused hands on me, to feel the weight of his experience as he explores every inch of my body.

Brushing those wanton thoughts aside, I focus my attention on the more immediate matter at hand. "Have they already have you settled in the SQ?" I ask, my tone dripping with feigned innocence.

"SQ?" he echoes, his brow furrowing ever so slightly in confusion.

"The servant's quarters, David," I clarify, relishing the way his name rolls off my tongue.

"Ah, yes," he nods, a flicker of discomfort crossing his features. "I settled in yesterday after starting my job."

I can sense the unease radiating from him. It's clear that he's uncomfortable but I refuse to be deterred. Reaching out, I allow my fingertips to graze the back of his hand, savoring the subtle hitch in his breath. "Well, you know, the main house can get rather... lonely at times," I murmur, my gaze smoldering with unspoken invitation. "Perhaps, if you find yourself in need of some company, you might consider joining me for dinner one evening?"

But suddenly, David takes his hand away from mine, taking a small step back. The warmth of his skin against my fingertips lingers, but the distance between us now feels palpable.

"I don't think that sounds very professional, Miss Montgomery," he says, his voice tinged with a hint of... regret.

I can't help but feel a twinge of disappointment at his withdrawal, but I refuse to let it deter me. Tilting my head ever so slightly, I hold his gaze unwaveringly. "And what does 'professional' sound like, Mr. Thorne?"

There's a subtle shift in the air between us, a charged tension that crackles with unspoken desires. I watch as his Adam's apple bobs with a hard swallow, his fingers flexing around the gardening shears he still holds.

"Well, you see, Miss Montgomery..." he begins, his brow furrowing as he searches for the right words. "As your father's employee, it wouldn't be appropriate for us to... to have dinner with you at the main house, you know."

I can hear the underlying strain in his voice, the conflict that wars within him. He's trying so hard to maintain his composure, and I like him. I like how nervous he looks, and it just makes me even more interested in him.

Taking a step closer, I allow my gaze to roam over him once more, unabashedly admiring the rugged lines of his face and the broad expanse of his shoulders. "And what if I don't want a professional relationship, Mr. Thorne?" I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. "What if I want something... more?"

David's brow furrows as he takes another step back, creating more distance between us. "Uhm, that wouldn't be possible, Miss Montgomery. You just met me a second ago," he says, his voice tinged with a hint of unease.

I can't help but feel a twinge of frustration at his refusal to engage. "So? What does that have to do with anything?" I press, unwilling to let the matter drop.

Suddenly, a look of realization dawns on his face, and he regards me with a mixture of caution and suspicion. "Is this a trap, miss? Are you trying to trick me to see if I would do anything inappropriate during my job?"

The accusation takes me by surprise, and I blink at him, momentarily at a loss for words. "Is that what it looks like, David?" I finally manage, my tone laced with a hint of exasperation.

"Well, yes," he replies, his posture becoming more rigid as he tightens his grip on the gardening shears. "Because why else would you meet a guy and immediately act like this with him? I think you want to see if I am trustworthy, and all I can say is... This job means a lot to me, Miss Montgomery, and I will never do anything that will make me lose it. I need it too much to risk getting fired. So, I hope me saying no to your dinner invitation would mean I have passed the test, right?"

I stare at him, taken aback by the depth of his conviction. The implication that I'm somehow trying to trap him stings, and I can't help but chuckle at the sheer absurdity of it all. "A test?" I echo, shaking my head in disbelief. "Honestly, David, you're giving me far too much credit."

There's a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he watches me, his shoulders still tense with the weight of his apprehension. It's clear that he's on high alert, cautious and guarded in a way that speaks to his deep-seated need to protect his position and livelihood.

Letting out a soft sigh, I decide to take a step back and reevaluate my approach. Perhaps a more subtle, patient hand is required to navigate this delicate situation. After all, the last thing I want to do is jeopardize his employment or make him feel uncomfortable.

"Very well, Mr. Thorne," I concede, offering him a small, understanding smile. "I won't press the matter any further. But do know that the invitation will always be there, should you change your mind."

With a resigned sigh, I turn around and walk away towards the garage, just as my phone starts ringing. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," I say after answering the call - it's my friend Becca.

I make my way to my pink Lamborghini and get in, ready to leave. As I drive out of the garage, I can't help but catch a glimpse of David still working in the garden. I can't help but smile, though the earlier tension still lingers in the air.

Without further comment, I simply focus on the road ahead and drive away, leaving David behind.

I can't help but feel a twinge of disappointment at David's rejection of my advances.

Hopefully, he can get a one night stand at least. Not that I would even want anything serious or more with him, or anyone else for that matter.

I always get what I want. Will I get this though? Only time will tell, but I'm certainly not giving up on the prospect of getting Mr. Thorne and adding him to my list.

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I try to come back early today so that I don't get in trouble with my dad. "How can I be 19 years old and still have a curfew like I'm 13?" I mutter under my breath in frustration. Oh well, it's their house, their rules.

My curfew is 11 pm, so I make sure to get home at exactly 11, not a second earlier. I had fun all day hanging out with the girls, but now all I want is to sleep.

Still, I'm relieved to see I made it back right on time, the clock just now striking 11 pm. I don't want to risk getting in trouble again for missing curfew. I roll my shoulders, trying to release the tension after a long day out with my friends. All I want is to get inside and collapse into bed.

After parking the car in the garage, I leave the garage and head towards the house. As I leave the garage and head towards the house, my steps are heavy with exhaustion. But as I approach the house, something catches my eye in the darkness of the flower garden on the west side of the mansion. Through the tall red bushes and trees, I can make out a figure moving about inside the greenhouse. I pause, squinting to get a better look. There, nestled between the tall red bushes, is the familiar silhouette of our gardener, David Thorne, moving about inside the greenhouse.

The flower garden is covered with trees and tall bushes of red flowers.

I furrow my brow, puzzled by his presence out here so late. What could he possibly be doing?

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I find myself slowly walking in that direction, my pace quickening with each step.

When I reach the garden, I can see David carefully pruning a beautiful rose bush. He seems so concentrated on his work, completely unaware of my presence. I can't help but be struck by the contrast - this man with such impressive, muscular arms handling the delicate flowers with such gentleness.

"I never expected someone with such huge muscles to be so gentle," I tease, a playful smile tugging at the corners of my mouth as I approach him.

The sound of my voice startles David, and he turns to face me, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Miss Montgomery, good evening," he greets me politely.

I can't help but quirk an amused brow at his formality. I look up at David, a mischievous smile playing on my lips. "It's night time, David. Aren't you supposed to be asleep by now?" my voice low and sultry.

He shifts nervously, a faint blush creeping across his cheeks. "I could ask you the same, Miss Montgomery," he asks.

"But I asked you first, didn't I, David?" I remind him, taking a step closer.

David clears his throat and stands a little straighter. "Well, I thought I could finish pruning the flowers today, just so I would have so much work tomorrow," he explains, his calloused hands gripping the gardening shears tightly.

I tilt my head slightly, my brow furrowing with concern. "So, you worked yourself overtime?" I ask, my voice laced with a hint of worry.

"Yes, Miss Montgomery," he replies, his gaze fixed on the ground.

I reach out and gently place my hand on his arm, causing him to look up and meet my eyes. "You don't have to be so formal with me, David," I murmur, my voice soft and soothing.

David's eyes widen, and he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "Well, you are technically my boss," he stammers, his heart pounding in his chest.

I let out a light chuckle and take another step closer, my body now just inches away from his. "No, I'm not. Your boss is my dad, not me. He is the one who hired you. Remember?" I remind him, my fingers tracing along the lapel of his coat.

David swallows hard, his adam's apple bobbing visibly. "Yes, I do. Miss Montgomery," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

I can't help but smile coyly. "Call me Juliette, David," I murmur, my gaze locked with his.

David shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting around as he struggles to find the right words. "I.. I don't think I can do that, Miss... Miss Montgomery," he finally manages to say, his voice trembling.

I reach up and gently caress his cheek, my expression softening. "And why not?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

David's face flushes, and he averts his gaze. "Because it would be unprofessional of me," he mumbles.

I let out a soft chuckle and move even closer, my body now nearly pressed against his. "What about we do something less professional. Just for tonight," I murmur, my fingers trailing down the lapel of his coat.

David's eyes widen, and he takes a small step back, his hands trembling slightly. "What do you mean, Miss Montgomery?" he asks, his voice barely audible.

I lick my lower lip, my gaze burning into his. Slowly, I lift my hand and snap the first button of his coat, punctuating my next words. "I thought that maybe we could... Uhm..." I pause, my eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief as I bite my lower lip. "Play a little."

But before I can say anything else, a familiar voice interrupts us.

"Juliette, that is not a way to treat our new gardener." I turn around, confused, and see my sister Madeline walking towards us with a smirk on her face.

"Madeline, you're here."

"I came to visit just this evening. I've been waiting for you to come home," she says to me as she pulls me into a hug.

She then turns to David and says, "Hello."

"Hello, miss," he replies, his voice still shaky from our previous interaction.

Madeline looks at me with a raised eyebrow. "I want to tell you she is not always like this, but I am a terrible liar. The only thing I can tell you is, don't let her scare you. She isn't as intimidating as she looks."

I furrow my brow, feeling a hint of annoyance at Madeline's teasing.

I hear a deep chuckle from David before he says, "I'll keep that in mind. If you'll excuse me," and then he quickly leaves the greenhouse, leaving Madeline and I alone.

I keep my eyes trained on David's backside, blatantly admiring the way his well-fitted trousers accentuate the curves of his rear. Biting down on my lower lip, I can't help but feel a growing sense of desire stirring within me.

Madeline leans in close, whispering in my ear with a disapproving tone, "What on earth do you think you're playing at, Juliette?" Her eyes narrow as she watches David disappear into the darkness.

Once he's out of sight, I turn to face Madeline, an unapologetic expression on my face. "Simple," I declare, my voice dripping with confidence. "I want to have sex with him."

Madeline's eyes widen in alarm. "But I heard mom say he's a new employee. He just started working here yesterday, if I'm not mistaken."

I shrug nonchalantly. "So?"

"So you've only just met him, Juliette!" Madeline exclaims, her brow furrowed in concern.

I roll my eyes dismissively. "Is there some kind of timestamp for how long you're supposed to know someone before sleeping with them?"

Madeline lets out a frustrated sigh. "You know, Dad was right. You have become so reckless these days."

I narrow my eyes, my lips curling into a sardonic smile. "Oh, I see. So he called you back home here to try and tame me, is that it?"

Madeline's gaze hardens. "Maybe he did."

I let out a derisive chuckle, crossing my arms over my chest. "Well, good luck with that. I don't see how you're going to succeed."

Madeline opens her mouth to retort, but I cut her off, raising a hand dismissively. "Save it, Madeline. I know what I want, and I'm going to go after it, regardless of what anyone else thinks."

Madeline's eyes widen in alarm as she grabs my arm, her grip tight. "You do realize that if your father learns you're trying to sleep with the new gardener, he'll fire the poor man on the spot? And you might as well be transported to a correction facility!"

I roll my eyes, shrugging off her hand. "Who's going to tell him, you?" I challenge, a mischievous glint in my eye.

Madeline lets out an exasperated sigh. "Why do you always have to play these forbidden games, Juliette?" she asks, her brow furrowed in concern.

She looks me over, her gaze scrutinizing. "And I can't help but notice that the gardener is at least five years older than you. He's also obviously not rich and certainly not of the same social status dad would approve of." She pauses, her expression shifting to one of suspicion. "Are you pursuing him just to provoke your father's anger?"

I scoff, shaking my head. "You think I want to date him?" I retort, crossing my arms defensively.

Madeline's eyes narrow. "Isn't that what all this is about?"

I can't help but chuckle at her naivety. "Maddy, you do know what can be better than sex, don't you?" I ask, a coy smile playing on my lips.

She blinks, confusion evident on her face. "What?"

"Sex with David the gardener," I state matter-of-factly, my gaze unwavering.

Madeline's brow furrows even deeper. "So you just want to sleep with him and that's it?" she asks, her voice laced with disbelief.

I nod, my resolve unshaken. "That's all I want. And that's what I'm going to get," I declare, turning on my heel and starting to walk away.

Over my shoulder, I call out, "Now, let's go to bed. I'm sure you're tired from waiting up for me until now."

Madeline opens her mouth, likely to protest, but I don't give her the chance. I stride off, my mind already racing with plans to make my desires a reality.

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I sit by the window, my heart fluttering with anticipation as I gaze out at the garden, waiting for David to arrive for his shift. The sun filters through the glass, casting a warm glow that does little to calm my nerves.

It doesn't take long before I see him now, those strong, calloused hands gripping the spear scissors as he approaches the unfinished garden beds. His black t-shirt clings to the defined muscles of his broad shoulders, and worn jeans hug his powerful thighs. There's a rugged, almost primal quality to him that sends a shiver down my spine.

I admit, I always thought I preferred men in suits - the polished, put-together look. But seeing David, his brow furrowed in concentration, sweat glistening on his skin as he works tirelessly, has made me realize the true appeal of a man sculpted by hard labor rather than the gym.

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I can't help but admire his physique. Then, without a moment's hesitation, I spring from my seat, my heart racing as I make my way towards the garden, eager to cross paths with him.

I'm alone in the house, the deafening silence almost suffocating as my mom, dad, and even Madeline have all left for the day. My parents went to work and Madeline went out for her morning run. A shiver runs down my spine, and I find myself restlessly pacing around the living room, my hands trembling slightly.

Suddenly, a thought strikes me, and without a moment's hesitation, I rush towards the front door, my heart pounding in my chest. I fling it open and hurry over to the garden, where I know David will be tending to the plants.

As I approach, I spot him, his strong, calloused hands gripping the spear scissors with a practiced ease. "David! David, you have to come with me, please!" I cry out, my voice laced with a palpable sense of urgency.

He turns to face me, his brow furrowed in concern. "Miss Montgomery, are you okay?"

I can feel the panic rising within me, my breathing growing rapid and shallow. "Come with me, please. You have to kill it," I plead, my wide, frantic eyes meeting his steady gaze.

"Kill what?" he asks, confusion evident in his tone.

"It's so big and grey, it's scary. I can't go back in there," I explain, my hands gesturing wildly as I speak.

I can see the confusion etched across David's rugged features as I plead with him to help me. "Kill what, Miss Montgomery? What are you talking about?" he asks, his brow furrowing in concern.

The words tumble out of my mouth, my voice trembling with fear. "A spider, David. There is a big, grey spider in my room. And you're the only one here who can help me get it out."

I can feel my heart racing, the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I describe the terrifying creature. My hands grip the fabric of my coat, knuckles turning white with the intensity of my grip.

Without hesitation, David nods, his expression softening. "Alright, show me," he says, his deep, calming voice washing over me like a balm. He sets down his tools and follows closely behind as I practically sprint towards the house, my eyes darting around nervously, searching for any sign of the monstrous spider.

A mischievous smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I lead David inside and up the stairs. He rushes forward, his long strides making it difficult for me to keep up. I have to practically jog to match his pace, my heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

As we reach the top of the stairs, I gesture towards my bedroom door. David waits patiently, his gaze scanning the hallway for any sign of the alleged threat. With a playful smirk, I push the door open and usher him inside.

The moment he steps over the threshold, David's eyes dart around the room, searching every nook and cranny for the elusive spider. He crouches down, inspecting the floor, and even peers under the bed, his brow furrowed in concentration.

When his thorough inspection yields no results, he turns to me, confusion etched across his features. "Where is the spider?" he asks, his voice tinged with a hint of exasperation.

I can't help but let out a soft chuckle as I watch him, my arms folding across my chest. "What spider?" I ask, my tone dripping with feigned innocence.

David's brow furrows deeper as he searches the room, his gaze scrutinizing every corner and crevice. "The spider that was in your room, the one that scared you?" he asks, his voice laced with confusion.

I take a step closer, my head tilting to the side as I feign innocence. "A spider scared me? When?" I ask, my lips curving into a coy smile.

David's expression shifts from bewilderment to realization. "Miss Montgomery, you came to get me from downstairs and asked me to come and kill it for you," he explains patiently, his calloused hands gesturing towards the room.

Furrowing my brow, I shake my head slowly. "I did?" I question, my tone dripping with feigned ignorance.

Letting out a soft sigh, David nods. "Yes, miss. That's why I came here – you were in a panic and asked me to come and take care of a spider in your room."

I can't help but let out a soft chuckle as I watch the puzzlement play across his face. "I don't remember doing that, David," I say, taking another step closer until I'm standing just a hair's breadth away from him.

Tilting my head to the side, I maintain my innocent facade. "I have no idea what you're talking about, David. There is no spider in this room, and I certainly haven't seen one," I say, my voice dripping with feigned confusion.

Confusion and frustration flicker across his rugged features as he searches my face for any sign of deception. "Why are you acting so clueless right now, Miss Montgomery?" he asks, his brow furrowing deeper.

A sly smile spreads across my lips as I take another step closer, closing the distance between us. "Maybe," I murmur, tracing a delicate finger down the firm planes of his chest, "because I already have you right where I want you."

David's eyes widen slightly, and I can see the realization dawn on him. "Miss Montgomery, what are you doing?" he asks, his voice laced with uncertainty.

Leaning in until my lips are mere inches from his ear, I whisper, "Don't think too much, Mr. Thorne. Just go with it." Without warning, I gently tug on his earlobe with my teeth, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the man before me.

I can't help but smile at David's flustered reaction as I slowly back away from him, my eyes never leaving his. With deliberate movements, I shrug off my coat, letting it slip down my arms and pool at my feet, revealing the crop top and miniskirt I have on underneath. It's not an outright strip, but the implication is clear.

Just as I anticipated, David's eyes are drawn down my body, his gaze hungry and intense. He then slowly starts walking towards him. When he finally catches up to me, he presses me against the wall, his hands braced on either side of my head, his eyes piercing into mine. He doesn't touch me, not at all.

"What are you trying to do, Miss Montgomery?" he asks, his voice low and gruff.

In response, I raise my leg, running it seductively along the length of his, biting my lower lip as I maintain eye contact. "I want you to fuck me, Mr. Thorne," I say, my voice dripping with raw desire.

The air is thick with tension, the atmosphere charged with an electricity that crackles between us. David's jaw tightens, his control visibly wavering as he struggles to maintain his composure in the face of my brazen advances.

I bring my hand to David's belt, gently grazing the area just above his manhood but not quite touching it. I watch as his expression shifts, his eyes darkening with barely contained desire. "That's all you want?" he asks, his voice low and rough.

Without breaking eye contact, I take his left hand from the wall and guide it to my right breast. Immediately, I feel a jolt of pleasure as his calloused fingers make contact with my sensitive flesh. I smile, reveling in the feel of his touch.

Keeping my gaze locked on his, I help him squeeze my breast gently, the simple action sending shivers through my body. Then, I remove my hand, silently daring him to continue on his own.

To my delight, he does, his fingers kneading and caressing my breast with an almost reverent touch. But just as I begin to lose myself in the sensation, he suddenly tightens his grip, making me gasp in surprise.

Leaning in close, his breath tickling my neck, he whispers, "You don't know what you're asking for, Miss Montgomery."

"What do you mean by that, Mr. Thorne?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

But instead of answering, he simply allows his breath to ghost across the sensitive skin of my neck, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from me. I wait, anticipation building, for him to finally press his lips to my skin, to leave his mark upon me. But the kiss never comes.

Instead, he pulls away, his hand leaving my breast. "Stop seducing me, Miss Montgomery," he says, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity. "There is only so much a man can take."

With that, he turns and strides towards the door, leaving me bereft and aching for his touch. I watch, my heart pounding, as he opens the door and walks out, the tension in the room palpable and the air thick with unspoken desire.

As the door clicks shut behind David, I'm left standing there, my body still thrumming with the residual heat of his touch. The space where his hand had been on my breast feels suddenly cold, and I can't help but crave the return of his caress.

The tension in the air is palpable, a coiled spring just waiting to be released. I can practically feel the weight of his unspoken desires pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe.

Part of me wants to run after him, to fling myself into his arms and beg him to finish what he started. But another, more cautious part of me knows that would be playing with fire. David seems like a man of immense self-control, and I've managed to chip away at that composure - I'm not sure I'm prepared for the consequences if I push him too far.

Still, the temptation is there, a siren's song that grows louder with every passing moment. I find myself inching towards the door, my fingers hovering over the handle as I debate making a move. The pull of his touch, the promise of his kiss, the tantalizing glimpse of the passion he's holding back - it's all so intoxicating.

But just as I'm about to give in to the impulse, I hesitate. This dance we've been engaged in, this delicate game of cat and mouse, is one I'm not entirely sure I understand the rules to. One wrong move and I could shatter the fragile balance I've maintained, the boundaries I've carefully constructed.

So instead, I retreat, sinking down onto the edge of the bed, my legs feeling suddenly weak. I rake a shaky hand through my hair, trying to calm the maelstrom of emotions raging within me.

Part of me is elated, giddy with the power I've discovered in my ability to unravel David's composure. But another part is terrified - terrified of the depth of my own desire, terrified of what might happen if I give in to it completely.

As I sit there on the edge of the bed, my mind racing, I can't help but acknowledge the truth that lies at the heart of this whole situation - I'm driven by pure, unadulterated lust.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

I have basically been an animal on heat ever since David touched me. I don't know why but I can't seem to calm down no matter what I do. I tried to distract myself all day, even spent the day with Madeline after she came back home from her run. But nothing seemed to help.

After taking a cold shower at 10 pm when everyone had retired to bed, I decided to take a stroll outside to cool off because I can't seem to get some sleep.

I am in my short night gown without any underwear or bra, and I am hoping the coldness will help but my horniness.

I shiver involuntarily as the cool night air caresses my bare skin, the thin material of my nightgown doing little to protect me from the chill. Yet, the goosebumps that prickle along my arms are not entirely from the temperature. No, there's a deeper, more primal heat coursing through me, one that not even the frigid night can extinguish.

I've been on the verge of madness all day, my mind consumed by thoughts of David and the way his touch had set my body alight. I'd tried to distract myself, to lose myself in conversation with Madeline, but nothing could quell the burning desire that simmers just beneath the surface.

Even now, as I wander aimlessly through the moonlit gardens, I can still feel the phantom caress of his hand on my breast, the lingering heat of his breath on my skin. It's as if he's imprinted himself on me, his very essence infused into every fiber of my being.

I wrap my arms around myself, clutching the thin fabric of my gown as if it might somehow contain the raging inferno within. But it's no use - the more I try to fight it, the more the flames seem to flare.

My body aches with an almost primal need, a desperate craving that leaves me breathless and dizzy. I can practically feel myself throbbing with want, every nerve ending alive and hypersensitive. It's as if my very cells are crying out for his touch, for the relief only he can provide.

I know I should be frightened by the intensity of these feelings, the way they've consumed me so completely. But in truth, I'm intoxicated by it, drunk on the raw, primal power of my own desire. This isn't love, this isn't some grand, sweeping romance - this is pure, unadulterated lust, a carnal hunger that demands to be fed.

And I find myself embracing it, reveling in the heady rush of it all. I want David, plain and simple. I want him to take me, to claim me, to erase every trace of reason and restraint until all that's left is the two of us, lost in a haze of passion and ecstasy.

My steps quicken as I navigate the winding garden paths, driven by a restless energy that refuses to be tamed. I can't stay still, can't find any measure of peace - not until I'm in his presence again, his touch igniting the fire that rages within me.

The cool night air does little to quell the burning ache between my thighs, and I can't help but let out a frustrated whimper as I press my legs together in a futile attempt to find some relief. But it's no use - the more I try to ignore it, the more insistent the need becomes.

I need him, now. I need to feel his hands on me, his lips claiming mine, his body joined with mine in a primal, ecstatic union. Anything less than that will leave me forever wanting, forever unsatisfied.

And so I continue my restless trek, driven by a hunger that knows no bounds, a desire that refuses to be tamed. I'm a woman possessed, consumed by a fire that threatens to devour me from the inside out. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

As I walk down the pathway, I find myself in the west garden.

I start wondering if David is here tonight, too.

I tiptoe quietly through the gardens, a sense of anticipation thrumming through my veins. The cool night air does little to temper the burning heat that seems to radiate from every inch of my skin.

As I approach the greenhouse, I see the warm glow of the lights emanating from within, and my breath catches in my throat. Could he be there? The thought sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through me, making my heart race and my palms grow clammy with nervous excitement.

Cautiously, I peer through the glass, my eyes immediately drawn to the sight of David tending to the blooming flowers. The muscles in his arms flex and ripple with each movement, and I can't help but imagine how those strong hands would feel caressing my body.

I bite down on my finger, desperately trying to stifle the whimper that threatens to escape my lips. Just the mere sight of him is enough to reduce me to a quivering, needy mess. I ache to feel his touch, to have him claim me, to erase every last shred of my control.

My thighs rub together in a futile attempt to alleviate the throbbing ache between them, but it's no use. The more I try to ignore it, the more insistent the need becomes. I'm soaked, if I had them on, my panties would clinging to me in the most delicious way, and all I can think about is having him fill me, stretching me, making me his. Even just for one night.

I close my eyes, allowing my imagination to run wild. I picture his calloused hands roaming my body, teasing and caressing every sensitive spot. I envision his mouth on mine, our tongues tangling in a desperate, hungry kiss. And I can almost feel the weight of him, the delicious friction as he moves within me, sending me spiraling into euphoric oblivion.

The longing is almost unbearable, a physical ache that threatens to consume me. I need him, now. I don't care about the consequences, the potential fallout. All that matters is quenching this maddening thirst, this primal hunger that has taken hold of me.

With a shaky breath, I want to push open the greenhouse door, my eyes to locking onto David's form. There's no going back now, no time for second-guessing. I'm a woman possessed, driven by a desire so raw and primal that it leaves no room for reason or restraint.

I'm going to have him, one way or another. And once I do, nothing will ever be the same again.

But suddenly when I open my eyes, I don't see David anymore throughly the glass and I start wondering where he is gone to. I look around the greenhouse but I don't spot him anywhere.

I start walking away from there in confusion wondering where he went to. He probably went to sleep. And I should probably go back inside.

But the moment I get near a big tree in the middle of the garden, my heart leaps into my throat as I'm suddenly pressed up against the rough bark of the tree, a strong hand covering my mouth to stifle any cry of surprise. The blood rushes in my ears, my pulse pounding as I realize who has caught me in this compromising position.

"I saw a shadow of someone peeping through the glass. I didn't expect it to be you, Miss Montgomery," David's deep voice rumbles, his warm breath ghosting across the sensitive skin of my neck.

I tremble, torn between the urge to flee and the overwhelming desire to melt into his touch. The contrast of his firm grip and the gentleness with which he holds me captive sends a bolt of electricity straight to the throbbing ache between my thighs.

Cautiously, he removes his hand from my mouth, his fingers trailing lightly along my jawline before falling away. I want to speak, to offer some kind of explanation, but the words catch in my throat, leaving me breathless and utterly at his mercy.

I turn my head to look at him, his gaze bores into mine, dark and piercing, as if he can see straight through to the very depths of my shameful desires. I feel exposed, vulnerable, yet there's a thrilling sense of anticipation that coils low in my belly.

Slowly, David leans in, his lips mere inches from mine. I can feel the heat radiating from his body, can almost taste the tantalizing promise of his kiss. My eyes flutter shut, my body trembling with barely contained need.

"What were you doing out here, hmm?" he murmurs, his voice a low, velvet caress that sends shivers racing down my spine. "Spying on me, were you?"

I swallow hard, my tongue darting out to wet my suddenly dry lips. "I... I..." I stammer, utterly lost for words.

His thumb traces the curve of my jaw, tilting my face up towards his. "Or perhaps you were looking for something else?" There's a barely concealed edge of challenge in his tone, as if daring me to admit the truth.

I can feel the tension coiling tighter with each passing second, the air thick with unspoken desire. I know I should pull away, should put an end to this madness before it consumes us both. But the lure of his touch, the promise of his kiss, is too strong to resist.

Slowly, I lift my gaze to meet his, my lips parting on a shaky breath. "I want you, David," I whisper, the words a desperate confession that hangs between us, heavy with longing.

The tension in the air is palpable as David's piercing gaze holds me captive. His hand leaves my mouth, but he doesn't step away, his other arm still wrapped firmly around my waist.

"What were you doing out here, Miss Montgomery?" he asks again, his voice low and steady, betraying none of the turmoil I know must be raging within him.

Summoning every ounce of courage, I turn to face him. "Do you want to know what I was doing, peeping in windows like a pervert?" I challenge, my voice thick with a mixture of shame and brazen desire.

His eyes instantly dart to my chest, darkening with barely concealed hunger, and he quickly looks away. I glance down, realizing with a jolt that the cool night air has hardened my nipples, the delicate fabric of my nightdress doing little to conceal them.

"Do you like them, David?" I ask, my tone coy and teasing.

"Miss Montgomery..." he starts, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

Without a moment's hesitation, I push the thin straps of my nightdress down, letting them slip from my shoulders and exposing even more of my ample bosom. Holding the fabric in place with one hand, I look up at him, my gaze burning with unabashed want.

"What will happen next, David?" I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. "The next move is yours to make."

The air crackles with tension, the world seeming to hold its breath as David's eyes roam hungrily over my barely concealed curves. I can see the war raging within him, the struggle to maintain his composure in the face of my brazen seduction.

Slowly, his hand lifts, his calloused fingers ghosting along the delicate curve of my neck, sending shivers of anticipation racing down my spine. His touch is electric, igniting a fire deep within me that threatens to consume us both.

"Miss Montgomery," he growls, his eyes blazing with a hunger that makes my knees go weak. "I told you to stop seducing me."

The air is thick with tension as David's words hang heavy between us, his voice thick with barely restrained desire. I can feel the heat radiating from his body, his nearness sending tingles of anticipation racing down my spine.

Summoning every ounce of courage, I lift my chin defiantly. "Then let's just fuck this one time and I'll stop," I challenge, my tone laced with a provocative edge.

His brow furrows, a flicker of uncertainty flickering across his features. "How do I know you're not trying to set me up?" he asks, his grip on my waist tightening ever so slightly.

In response, I press my thighs together, the subtle motion accentuating the ache between my legs. "I think it would be much more easier to know if I'm faking it," I murmur, my voice dripping with sultry invitation.

The muscles in David's jaw work as he clenches his teeth, his control visibly slipping. "Fuck," he growls, the guttural curse sending a fresh wave of desire coursing through me.

I can't help but chuckle at his reaction, the sound low and sultry. "What's the matter, David?" I purr, my hands trailing up his chest to splay across the broad expanse of his shoulders. "Afraid you won't be able to handle me?"

The tension between us is palpable, a coiled spring of lust and longing that threatens to snap at any moment. I can feel the strength in his body, the barely leashed power of his desire, and it sends a thrill of anticipation shivering through me.

Slowly, his hands slide down to grasp my hips, pulling me flush against him. I can feel the hard line of his arousal pressing against me, and I have to bite back a whimper of wanton need.

"You have no idea what you're in for, Miss Montgomery," he growls, his voice a rough, primal rumble that sends a fresh flood of moisture to my aching core.

I arch my back, pressing my breasts against his chest as I look up at him through hooded eyes. "Then show me," I breathe, my lips mere inches from his. "I'm all yours."

The tension between us is palpable, a coiled spring of raw, unbridled desire that threatens to snap at any moment. I can feel the tremor in David's hands as he holds me pressed against the rough bark of the tree, his calloused fingers tracing a burning path down the curve of my thigh.

"You're..." he starts, his voice barely above a ragged whisper.

"Not wearing any underwear?" I finish for him, a coy smile playing on my lips. "Probably."

Suddenly, his palm comes down with a resounding smack against the swell of my ass, and he pulls me flush against him, his other arm banding tight around my waist. I can feel the hard line of his arousal pressing insistently against me, and a shiver of wanton need courses through me.

His fingers knead the yielding flesh of my ass as he leans in, his lips nearly brushing against mine. But at the last moment, he pauses, his eyes searching mine with an intensity that steals my breath.

"I'm not going to kiss you or do anything to you unless you're my girlfriend," he rasps, his grip tightening possessively. "Hell, I shouldn't even be touching you if you aren't. So, are you ready to be my girlfriend first before anything else?"

The words strike me like a physical blow, the raw vulnerability in his voice catching me off guard. I can see the longing in his eyes, the desperate need for connection, and it tugs at something deep within me.

But I know the truth, the bitter reality that I've buried for so long. "I don't date, David," I murmur, my heart sinking as I watch the hope in his expression shatter.

I watch with a growing sense of unease as David's arms slowly slip away from my body, his warmth receding as he takes a step back. The loss of his touch sends a pang of yearning through me, but I steel myself against the vulnerability that threatens to consume me.

His shoulders slump, and for a moment, I see the weight of his disappointment etched into every line of his body. But then, a steely determination hardens his features, and he straightens, his hands falling away from me.

"What do you mean you don't date?" he asks, his brow furrowed in a mix of confusion and disappointment.

"I just don't," I reply, my tone flat and unyielding.

A spark of realization dawns in his eyes, and he narrows them as he regards me intently. "So, what are you planning on doing with me? What was your plan with me and you?"

I lift my chin, refusing to back down. "A one night stand. And if we both like it, then maybe we can just have a fuck buddy relationship."

David's expression shifts, a flicker of hurt flickering across his features. "Really, that's all?" he asks, his voice tinged with a note of vulnerability that tugs at my heartstrings.

"Yeah. Why do you look so disappointed?" I counter, willing my voice to remain steady.

He shakes his head, a humorless chuckle escaping his lips. "Well, I don't think I would be able to give you that, Miss Montgomery. Not even a one night stand."

I feel a pang of frustration, my hands curling into fists at my sides. "And why is that? It's just fucking for one night."

"I don't just fuck," he says, his voice firm and unyielding.

"Let me guess, you make love?" I retort, the sarcasm dripping from my words.

David's gaze softens, a hint of compassion in his eyes. "There is a certain way I like to have sex that makes me prefer if that person is my girlfriend or wife. Not just someone I probably will never fuck again because she wants a one night stand."

He steps closer, his expression earnest and sincere. "That is why when you said you wanted to fuck me, I told you you don't know what you're asking for, Miss Montgomery."

The weight of his words settles over me, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable. I've never allowed myself to be this raw, this open, and the thought terrifies me. But in the depths of his eyes, I see a glimmer of understanding, a shared longing for something more.

Swallowing hard, I avert my gaze, the walls I've so carefully constructed beginning to crumble.

I feel the tension coiling within me, a restless energy that threatens to consume me. Closing my eyes for a brief moment, I shake my head, trying to ground myself in the present.

"So now what?" I ask, the words coming out sharper than I intended.

In one swift motion, David leans in, his lips grazing the delicate skin of my neck. I suck in a sharp breath as he nips at my lower lip, the playful bite sending a jolt of electricity through my body.

"You either be my girl," he growls, his voice low and laced with a possessive edge, "or I'm not giving you anything."

The throbbing between my legs is almost unbearable, a primal desire surging through me. Driven by impulse, I lean in, my lips barely brushing against his, but he pulls away, denying me the kiss I crave.

"I'm not kissing you, Miss Montgomery," he murmurs, his eyes darkening with a mix of desire and resolve, "unless I'm your man. So you decide how it's going to be."

The air crackles with tension, the weight of his words settling over me like a heavy mantle. My heart pounds in my chest, pulse racing as I grapple with the decision before me.

Part of me wants to give in, to surrender to the allure of his touch, the promise of a connection so profound it threatens to unravel the carefully constructed walls I've built. But the other part, the part that's been scarred by past failures, clings to the familiar comfort of emotional distance.

I feel the heat rise in my cheeks as his words land like a physical blow, the implications weighing heavily on my heart. Shifting uncomfortably, I avert my gaze, unable to meet the intensity of his stare.

"But I don't date, David," I say, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Dating leads to love, and I... I don't love." The admission leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, a painful truth I've long tried to bury.

David's expression hardens, his brow furrowing as he takes a step closer pressing me against the tree in the garden, the tension between us palpable. "Then I guess there will be nothing between us," he growls, his voice low and laced with a hint of disappointment.

Reaching out, he grasps my chin, his calloused fingers tilting my face upwards. "Because I am not fucking you," he murmurs, his breath ghosting across my lips, "unless it's to claim you. And I can't claim what doesn't want to be claimed." His grip tightens, ever so slightly, as he leans in until our noses are nearly touching.

"I can't claim what doesn't want to be mine."

The weight of his words sends a shiver down my spine, and I find myself transfixed by the raw intensity in his gaze. My heart pounds in my chest, a war raging between my need for self-preservation and the desire to surrender to his touch.

Slowly, his lips brush against mine, the fleeting contact igniting a spark within me that I desperately try to extinguish. "Have a lovely night, Miss Montgomery," he murmurs, his voice tinged with a hint of regret.

And then, just like that, he's gone, leaving me standing there, my body thrumming with a blend of longing and trepidation. I watch his retreating figure, my fingers tracing the lingering warmth of his touch, and I can't help but wonder what I just started when I decide to pursue David Thorne.

To Be Continue in Part II