The sun was doing its damnedest to act like it was summer, but the breeze still carried a bite, the kind that kissed skin rather than slapped it. The garden was waking up in bursts of green and blossom, full of that smug spring smugness that made everything look just a little too alive. Tessa was crouched between two rows of Daffodils, sleeves pushed up, fingers in the dirt, muttering darkly at a stubborn dandelion.

"How’s the war on weeds?" Chris asked, casually heroic with a garden hose slung over his shoulder like it was a sword.

"I’m losing the battle," she replied, flicking a bit of soil off her cheek. "They’re organized. Possibly unionized."

He chuckled, adjusting the spray nozzle. "Want me to drown them for you?"

"Be my guest. But keep it pointed at the plants this time, not. HEY!!!" A perfect arc of cold water caught her across the back, soaking through her shirt in an instant.

"You absolute menace!" she shrieked, spinning around, hair dripping, top clinging shamelessly to her curves. "That is a war crime!"

"It slipped!" he lied, smiling like a bastard.

Tessa launched herself at him with all the fury of a woman damp and vengeful. Her body collided with Chris’s, lithe and quick, catching him off guard as she lunged for the hose. He twisted to keep it out of reach, laughing manically. She wrapped an arm around his waist, the other hand clawing at the slippery nozzle.

"Give it up!" she growled, laughing breathlessly, gripping the hose with both hands as Chris backed up a step, trying to twist away.

"You're gonna have to earn it," he shot back, eyes gleaming.

Their bodies tangled and grappled, sliding against each other in slick, soaked chaos. Tessa ducked low and tried to grab the nozzle with both hands, her arms brushing against his stomach, her hair slapping against his chest in wet strands. Chris pivoted, only for her to slide one leg between his, using sheer momentum and a surprising amount of core strength to hook her thigh behind his knee and yank.

Chris staggered but didn’t fall, instead tightening his grip on the hose. They spun, her back arching against him as she reached up again, knocking the hose from his grip.

The hose, left unsupervised in the struggle, betrayed them both, swinging like a chaotic, aquatic whip, spraying both of them in the face. Tessa shrieked, half-laughing, half-cursing, her shirt now nearly translucent and clinging to every curve with shameless precision. Chris, sputtering, took the blast to the chest and stumbled backward but managed to grab the hose.

She followed relentlessly. Pouncing again, wrapping around him, the two of them staggering, slipping in the wet grass. Their bodies pressed chest to chest now, her soaked form moulding to his with maddening friction. Every move slid skin against fabric, heat against cold.

Water sprayed over the tomatoes, the fence, and an unfortunate pigeon that exploded into flight with an indignant coo. Chris blinked water from his lashes just as Tessa wrenched the hose free.

“HA!” she cried in triumph, hoisting the nozzle like a sword, but karma struck quick, her foot slid out from under her on the slick lawn, and she went down with a gasp, dragging him with her.

They landed hard, tangled and gasping, soaked through and wild-eyed. After quickly squirming and distracting him by blasting water into his face, Tessa ended up on top, her hands pressed against his chest, hair dripping around his face like a curtain. Their laughter tangled into breathless panting, the cold forgotten in the rush of bodies and teasing tension.

Chris looked up at her, water dripping from his hair. "You good?"

"Victory is mine," she replied smugly, giving his face a last squirt before shutting the hose off. Her shirt was now plastered to her skin, every inch of her breasts outlined and glistening. She caught the way his eyes dropped.

Chris's gaze lingered, drinking in the view. Her shirt clung to her like a second skin, the soaked fabric outlining the delicate slope of her collarbone, the swell of her breasts, the sharp curve of her waist. Every inhale and exhale brought subtle movement, a tantalizing rise and fall that dared him to keep his eyes up.

Tessa, for her part, wasn’t blind either. Chris’s T-shirt was plastered to him, outlining the lines of his chest and the hard plane of his stomach. The cold had tightened everything, his muscles, his jaw, his nipples standing out against the clingy cotton.

“Well,” Tessa said, voice low and wicked, “we had better get out of these wet clothes.”

Chris blinked, helplessly watching as she reached for the hem of her shirt and slowly peeled it upward, an intentional, devastating striptease framed by blue sky and budding roses. The fabric clung and resisted, revealing inch after glistening inch until it came off entirely. Her breasts, full and flushed from the cold, caught the light like a painting that shouldn’t be hung in any respectable museum.

“Oh, so that’s where we’re at now,” Chris said, already tugging off his own soaked shirt, voice gravel-thick.

She leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “Unless you’re scared the nosy neighbors might get a show?”

He laughed, low and wicked. “Let them watch.”

They rolled together, a tangle of limbs and laughter, until they landed in a drier patch of grass near the shade of the elderberry bush. Chris ended up on top, bracing himself with one arm as he looked down at Tessa, both of them now gloriously topless and glistening from water, sweat, and spring sunlight.

Her blond hair was spread like a halo around her, damp and wild, sticking in strands to her flushed cheeks. Her chest rose and fell in shallow gasps, each breath catching with anticipation. Chris leaned down, his lips brushing hers again, slower now, deeper, tasting her sighs and drinking in the soft, desperate sound she made when his hand skimmed down her ribcage.

The sunlight kissed their bare skin, warming them, while a breeze ghosted over their bodies, raising goosebumps in its wake. Tessa shivered beneath him, but not from the cold. The fire between them was enough to melt the snow of deepest winter.

Chris shifted lower, lips trailing from her mouth to her jaw, then down her neck, where he nuzzled and kissed along the pulse fluttering just beneath the surface. When he reached her breasts, he paused just long enough to meet her eyes before lowering his mouth to her nipple.

Tessa gasped, back arching as his tongue flicked over the erect bud, his lips warm and greedy. He sucked gently, then harder, alternating with soft, teasing bites that made her moan louder. One hand cupped her other breast, fingers rolling and pinching in rhythm with his mouth, and she was writhing beneath him now, overwhelmed by sensation, the chill in the air forgotten.

"Chris," she breathed, the name a prayer and a curse all at once.

Somewhere nearby, bees buzzed lazily around the blossoms. A bird chirped. And the two of them, half-naked and lost in each other, let the world fade as desire bloomed wild and unchecked in their private patch of paradise.

Tessa’s fingers threaded into Chris’s damp hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp as his mouth worked over her breasts. He was worshipful and wicked in equal measure, sucking softly, then biting just enough to make her gasp, then kissing it better with maddening tenderness. Her skin was flushed, her nipples pebbling under his attention, both from the cool air and the searing contrast of his tongue.

The breeze whispered across her chest, raising goosebumps, but Chris’s body pressed into hers, grounding her with his warmth. She could feel the tension in his arms, the solid weight of him, the delicious friction of his hips against hers. Everything felt alive. Amplified. The grass tickling her back, the sunlight shifting through the leaves above, the heady scent of blossoms on the breeze, it all blurred around the central point of his mouth on her skin.

She whimpered, hips twitching upward, her body aching for more.

Chris grinned against her breast, clearly pleased with the reaction. His mouth trailed lower, lips soft and reverent as they mapped the curve of her ribs, the hollow of her stomach. He kissed her like he was tasting sunlight itself, slow, savoring, maddening. Tessa’s breath hitched as his fingers slid into her shorts, hooking the wet fabric of her knickers as well.

“Fuck, Chris!” she said, breath hitching as his tongue teased the sensitive skin just above her waistband. “You’re cheating,” she murmured, voice barely a breath as he peeled the soaked fabric from her hips. “I was supposed to win.”

Chris only answered briefly, his mouth was too busy kissing the newly bared skin as he slowly drew her trousers down, inch by torturous inch. “You won, this is your prize. And mine,” he finished with a dirty chuckle.

His hands skimmed the sides of her thighs, palms dragging warmth in their wake as he slipped the damp fabric past her knees, then off entirely. He tossed them aside without a glance, eyes fixed on the sight of her,  flushed, radiant, and utterly exposed beneath the dappled sunlight.

She lay there like spring incarnate, petals parted, dewy and trembling. Her scent was rich and wild, like crushed blossoms and ripe fruit, thick in the air and pulling him in like gravity. Chris knelt between her legs, breath caught in his throat as he took in the glistening folds of her sex, her nectar already pooling in the soft curve of her petals.

He bent forward and kissed her there, slow and sure, a groan vibrating against her most sensitive flesh as his tongue traced her open bloom. Tessa gasped, hips lifting into him.

His tongue worked her with a gardener’s devotion, gentle at first, then deeper, firmer, as he explored every ridge, every sweet petal. Her thighs trembled against his shoulders, her breath coming in uneven moans, eyes squeezed shut as waves of pleasure rolled through her.

Every flick of his tongue, every teasing swirl, coaxed more nectar from her core. Chris moaned against her, drunk on the taste, on the way her body writhed beneath his mouth like wind in tall grass.

Tessa huffed a laugh, half exasperated, half desperate. “If you don’t start planting something soon, I’m going to, ooooh...” she trailed off.

Chris looked up, mouth glistening, eyes dark and smiling. “Threaten me with a good time?”

She didn’t answer. She yanked him up, hard, kissing him fiercely, tasting herself on his lips, pulling him close with every inch of muscle and need she had. Her legs wrapped around his waist, locking him in place, his cock still trapped painfully inside his jeans and pressed tight against her slick heat.

He groaned into her mouth, grinding against her with aching need, their bodies sliding together still damp from their fight.

“Off,” she muttered against his lips, tugging at the button of his jeans. “Now.”

Chris’s fingers fumbled at the button of his jeans, half from haste, half from the way Tessa was biting his bottom lip like she meant to devour him. The wet denim clung stubbornly, resisting like it had a grudge against sex, but he got it down eventually and when he did, her eyes dropped with something between hunger and triumph. He kicked the jeans and boxers off, still laughing as she rolled them both, pressing him down into the grass. The breeze whispered over his bare skin, cool and teasing, but the warmth of her body straddling his hips eclipsed everything else. She was heat and hunger, curves slick from sunlight and hose water, her small breasts bouncing slightly as she shifted atop him, lining them up with agonizing precision.

Tessa hovered over him, the sun gilding every curve of her bare skin, her body a silhouette of temptation against the bright blue sky. Her thighs clenched around his hips as she lowered herself slowly, guiding his root to her slick entrance with a knowing hand.

She paused at the tip, teasing them both with that agonizing edge.

"Ready to sow some chaos?" she murmured, voice promising erotic delights.

Chris could only groan, hands tight on her hips. “Plant me. Bury me deep inside you.”

And she did.

Tessa sank onto him in one long, deliberate motion, her soft petals parting, slick and warm as he slid deep inside her. Chris gasped, head tipping back into the grass, as her body enveloped him, greedy and perfect.

For a moment, neither moved. They just breathed, hearts pounding, bodies trembling, connected core to core.

Then she began to move.

Her hips rolled like the sway of branches in the breeze, like she had all the time in the world. Each slow rise and fall stoked the fire between them, the heat building beneath their skin as the sun bore witness from above. The garden around them seemed to pulse with life, flowers swaying, birds singing, bees buzzing in approval of this reckless, blooming love.

Chris looked up at her, flushed, radiant, hair tangled and wild, and he swore she looked like a goddess carved from sunlight and mischief. She met his gaze, eyes burning, a grin curling at her lips grinding her hips in a circle that made him curse under his breath.

He bucked upward in response, earning a sharp gasp. Tessa laughed, breathless, her rhythm quickening now, as their lust filled them. Their bodies collided in wet, urgent sounds, the soft grass beneath them flattened by their need. Chris thrust upward in time with her, meeting every motion, letting her ride him like spring itself had taken form and mounted him in the dirt.

Every thrust, every moan, every gasp was a storm building and when they broke, it would be loud, wild, and unforgettable.

Their rhythm built ever faster, not wild, not frantic, but deep and driving, the kind of pace that promised no turning back. Chris’s hands roamed her body with reverence and need, palms slick as they cupped her breasts, her hips, her ass, guiding her with something just short of desperation.

Tessa's head tipped back, mouth open in a moan as she rode him harder, thighs trembling. Her breath caught in her throat, the world shrinking to this, the pounding of her heart, the slide of him inside her, the coiled fire at the base of her spine ready to explode.

She opened her eyes to the sky, Over the fence, in the upstairs window of the neighbor’s house, a shape was unmistakably still. A silhouette. A person. Watching.

Her brain stalled for a beat, pleasure and panic colliding in a strange, sharp spark. She leaned forward slightly, squinting through the sun-dazzled haze. Yep. Definitely someone standing there. Curtains barely parted. Completely still.

Watching them.

“Chris,” she hissed, trying to keep her voice low even as her hips refused to stop grinding. “Don’t freak out!”

He blinked up at her, dazed, sweat beading on his forehead. “Why would I freak out?”

“We have an audience.”

“What?”

She dipped her head a little, lips brushing his ear. “Second floor window. Across the fence. Someone's watching.”

Chris's eyes slid sideways, just a quick glance, and then he laughed. Loud and unbothered, still buried to the hilt inside her.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, scandalized and undeniably turned on. “You’re laughing?”

He grinned wickedly, thrusting up hard enough to steal her breath. “Let them watch. We’re just two people tending to our garden.”

“You’re maddening,” she gasped, clutching his shoulders as another wave of pleasure crashed into her.

“And you’re gorgeous when you’re about to bloom,” he growled, bucking up again.

The shock of being watched didn’t pull her out of it, not fully. If anything, it pushed her higher, a wicked thrill humming under her skin. She looked back toward the window, raised a brow, and then leaned down to kiss Chris with open-mouthed hunger, grinding harder.

Let them see. 

Because right now, Tessa was a goddess in bloom, and no pair of curious eyes was going to stop her from coming undone in the arms of the man who knew how to worship every inch of her.

Tessa’s pulse pounded in her ears, a wild rhythm that matched the rise and fall of her hips. The pale outline of a person, barely moving, a voyeur caught in someone else’s lust. 

She liked it. The idea that someone saw her like this, wild and radiant and utterly unrestrained, riding Chris in the open air like this.

Chris felt it too, she could tell by the way his hands gripped her hips tighter, his thrusts losing rhythm as his own climax drew close. His eyes met hers and flared with heat, mischief, and something almost reverent.

“You’re gonna make them pass out,” he growled through clenched teeth, voice breaking on a moan.

“Let them,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “They should see what real pleasure looks like.”

Chris thrust up hard, and Tessa cried out, the sound torn from her throat, half defiant, half helpless. Her body was right there, trembling, spiraling, ready to burst.

He slipped a hand between them, fingers slick as they found her clit and circled fast, just how she needed. She bucked, nails dragging down his chest, eyes locked on his. 

“I’m going to…” she gasped, the words barely forming.

“Then do it,” he whispered, breath hot and uneven. “Come for me. I’m so fucking close.”

Tessa cried out, hips slamming down as her orgasm ripped through her, her body tensing and unraveling all at once. Her thighs shook, her back arched, and her mouth opened in a moan that felt like it echoed through every tree and blade of grass around them.

Chris followed seconds later, the tight coil inside him snapping as he spilled deep inside her seed planted in his garden goddess, his hands clutching her like she was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

They stayed like that, locked together, breathless, trembling, soaked in sun and sweat and shameless victory.

The watcher in the window had disappeared. Tessa collapsed onto Chris’s chest, both of them sticky and tangled in the grass. The scent of flowers wrapped around them, thick and sweet.

“Next time,” she panted, lips brushing his throat, “we bring a blanket.”

Chris chuckled, one hand lazily stroking her back. “Next time, we will charge admission.”

She groaned and smacked his shoulder but didn’t move an inch.