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That evening, Lance sat on the old porch swing in the dark enjoying the cool, damp air. He'd put in hours of work, watched Roark's every uninteresting move, and thought about his mysterious female neighbor. He didn't even know which house she lived in.
He didn't see her until she stood less than a dozen feet away, an apparition in her fluttering white dress.
Ariel stared at him for a long moment, then tiptoed up the stairs and across the porch, her eyes holding his, even in the darkness. She stopped directly in front of him, her bare feet between his, and touched the side of his face.
Lance closed his eyes at the tenderness. Her fingers slid down the side of his neck and across his shoulder, and the swing creaked as she climbed onto his lap, facing him, straddling his legs.
He looked up.
Her hair, loose now, glittered as if sprinkled with gold dust as she lowered her face to his. She pressed her soft lips to his cheek and her golden hair felt like flowers brushing against his skin.
"I need you," she whispered.
Lance held her waist as Ariel lowered herself onto his lap, pressing her heat against the hard-on that grew suddenly painful inside his jeans. "This is crazy," he whispered back.
"Yes." She moved her mouth to his, her lips full and warm and welcoming.