New York, Summer, 1921 . Your new neighbor across the lake is the mysterious bachelor , Dutch. His reputation for excess and extravagant parties precede him in the prohibition era. But after an invitation to one of his soirees, you discover your...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Sir," said the tall gentleman approaching Tom. He had on servant's attire, something you recognized immediately. Harrison said Tom lived alone, but no doubt he omitted the copious amount of staff it took to run such a palace.
Tom lifted his head and nodded at the man with the air of someone in charge. You watched with wonder. Whenever was your Tom comfortable with being waited on? He used to scoff at such things, even going so far as calling you spoiled...
**********
"I'm not spoiled," you snapped with a fire in your tone. How dare he insult you in such a way! Just because you shared a kiss in the stables did not give him the right to say such things.
"You don't even dress yourself, do you?" Tom raised his eyebrows and tilted his head at you.
You narrowed your eyes at him, infuriated with his insinuation. A lady's handmaid dressed her but how could you ever expect some grunt to understand that?
"My dressing habits are of no concern to you," you spat and turned to walk back to the house. It was pointless to spend anymore time with him. The more you were around Tom, the more his ignorance annoyed you. His arrogance was only rivaled by his snobbish attitude that any amount of affluence meant ineptitude.
When you begged Father to go hunting with Tom, it was to be close to him, although you did a fair job of convincing him otherwise. You stated that you needed to hone your skills for your trips to the family manor in Yorkshire. Not a year went by that hare and fox hunting wasn't on the schedule during your visit.
Father allowed it, but not without a knowing glance between you and Tom. You took notice and were quick to quash it.
"Thank you, Father, but I beg you, please come and rescue me if this buffoon doesn't have me back by supper," you laughed and kissed him on the cheek. That usually did the trick. Father blushed and chuckled.
"Do your best to bring back something for supper," he said to Tom, "and my petal in one piece, eh?"
Tom nodded and gave a tight smile.
The two of you walked for ages until you came upon some marshy land. Tom stopped you, his fingers grazed your arm to keep you still. Your breath suddenly felt heavy in your chest and you found yourself holding it in for fear of disturbing the silent air.
"Shhh..." Tom said quietly and raised his rifle to his shoulder. His movements were methodical and precise, wasting no time on his aim. You watched him, absolutely captivated by his physical form. His shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows, giving you plain view of his muscular arms. His brow came together in a frown of concentration as his sight honed in on his target. His lips parted slightly and your watched his tongue skip across his top teeth. You recalled the taste of that tongue, how it danced with your own. How would it feel to travel down your neck or slide over your breasts? Just the thought excited you and you let your breath out in a long hiss.
