Summer at Seaside Cove Read online

  Complete honesty. The words ricocheted through his brain, tempering his anticipation with a hard slap of guilt. While he hadn’t lied to her, he’d omitted a lot of details about himself. About what he’d left behind. Right or wrong, he’d made the choice to keep his past, his circumstances to himself.

  If you tell her, you know what’ll happen, his gut whispered.

  Yeah, he knew. Which was why he hadn’t told her. And didn’t want to. Because he knew she’d tell him to take a hike.

  Maybe someday he’d tell her. But not now. She gently bit his earlobe and he gritted his teeth against the dark pleasure that shuddered through him.

  Definitely not now.

  Her revelation that he’d had her at lick you like an ice cream cone floated into his mind and he vividly recalled the first words she’d said to him, when he’d answered his door and discovered his disgruntled new neighbor glaring at him. And it suddenly dawned on him that it was very possible she’d had him at It’s about time you answered the door.

  Chapter 17

  With Godiva leading the way, Jamie followed Nick up Southern Comfort’s stairs. She glanced over at Paradise Lost and noted all the windows were dark. Hopefully her mom and Alex had spent their day alone talking out their problems and solving their issues. Which hopefully led to her mother relenting and allowing Alex into the bedroom rather than making him sleep on the sofa. Which would hopefully lead to a full-on reconciliation that would hopefully send them back to New York. Like tomorrow.

  She returned her attention to climbing the stairs and was greeted by the sight of Nick’s very fine jean-clad butt right in front of her. Darn it, if only her superpower were X-ray vision! Well, no problem—those Levis would be off him soon enough.

  She tightened her grip on the bag containing the condoms and offered up a mental thank God she’d bought them. She’d only done so because as far as she was concerned, it was a woman’s responsibility to see to her own protection. The fact that Nick didn’t have any condoms because he hadn’t had sex—for months—well, that suffused her with a warm, melty feeling she didn’t want to examine too closely. Much better that she just concentrate on the sex and shove aside anything that smacked of emotion. This was a temporary fling with her sexy neighbor. Nothing more.

  And speaking of the sex … God help her, she couldn’t wait. While she would have waited for him to return from the drugstore, she was damn glad it wasn’t necessary. Her skin felt about three sizes too small, as if she were an overripe fruit about to burst. She hadn’t felt this primed, this edgy, this sexually needy in … ever. Like she wanted to claw off his clothes, shove him to the floor, and have her wicked way with him.

  He unlocked the door and she followed him inside. The need to touch him, to be touched by him—now—struck her like a lightning bolt. She pushed the door closed with her foot, grabbed a handful of his T-shirt, and yanked him toward her. He obviously didn’t have a problem with that because before she could even think who the hell needs foreplay? he’d backed her against the wall, his mouth was on hers, his tongue stroking and delving, and his hands … God his hands, those big, strong, callused hands were everywhere. Tunneling through her hair. Yanking her tank top over her head. Teasing her hard nipples. Unzipping her shorts. Shoving them and her panties to her ankles, where she kicked them along with her flip-flops aside with an impatient flick of her foot. All while kissing her to within an inch of her life.

  Jamie’s hands were just as eager and busy, plunging beneath the soft cotton of his T-shirt to coast up his smooth back, then forward to greedily glide over the fascinating hard ridges of his abdomen. Desperate for more, she broke off their frantic kiss, grabbed the ends of his shirt and gave it a hard, impatient upward tug. His gaze met hers and she damn near melted on the spot from the fire burning in his eyes.

  After tossing his shirt aside, she attacked the button on his jeans, but her quest was derailed when he hooked a hand under her thigh. He raised her leg, settling it high on his hip, then cupped her sex.

  Her head thunked back against the wall and a low groan that felt dragged from her soul rattled in her throat.

  He teased her folds, then slipped a finger inside her. “You’re wet,” he said in a ragged whisper against her lips.

  If she’d been capable of forming a full sentence, she might have said that her aroused state could hardly be surprising given that the entire last five weeks had felt like foreplay. But she wasn’t capable, so she just gripped his shoulders, arched into his hand, and demanded, “More.”

  And holy moly, he followed directions well. His mouth covered hers in a searing kiss, his tongue moving in tandem with his fingers, his other hand teasing her taut nipples, driving her to the brink of sanity. He performed some sort of magic with his hand, and her orgasm screamed through her, pulsing white-hot shards of pleasure to her every cell, dragging a harsh cry from her throat. Aftershocks were still trembling through her when she dragged her eyes open. And found him watching her, his green eyes nearly black with arousal.

  “Beautiful,” he said. “Absolutely beautiful. Are you always that impatient?”

  “Jeez, is that a complaint?” she asked, fighting to catch her breath.

  “Hell no. I like you aroused and impatient.” His scorching gaze raked downward to where his fingers continued to lightly caress her. “I even like you bossy—when you’re naked.”

  “Good.” She slipped her hand into his unbuttoned jeans and cupped his erection, enjoying his sharply indrawn breath. “Take off your jeans. Then douse this damn fire you started. Because it’s far from out.”

  “Best news I’ve ever heard.” Without taking his gaze off her, he stepped back. Jamie locked her knees so she wouldn’t slither to the floor, her gaze avid and greedy as he toed off his sneakers, pulled off his socks, then lowered his jeans and underwear with a single impatient movement. Boxer briefs, she noted. Probably they looked damn good on him. But whoa, baby … he looked really damn good without them.

  He grabbed the condom box, ripped open a packet, and sheathed himself. In the next heartbeat he stepped between her legs, grasped her bottom, and lifted her.

  “You’re gonna want to hold on,” he ground out in a harsh rasp.

  Jamie gripped his shoulders, wrapped her legs around his hips, then gasped when he entered her in a single, heartstopping thrust.

  Their harsh, choppy breaths filled the room as he stroked her. Hard, fast, relentless. Propelling her toward another orgasm. Her climax engulfed her like a giant wave, drowning her in its intensity. Her arms and legs tightened around him, and she buried her face in the curve where his neck and shoulder met while her entire body convulsed with pleasure. With a ragged groan he thrust deep and joined her in his own release.

  Still panting and clinging to him like wallpaper, Jamie managed to lift her head. And found herself looking into eyes that looked as glazed as she felt. Speech was beyond her. Otherwise, she would have told him that was amazing. That she hadn’t felt like that since … ever, and she couldn’t wait to feel that way again. That she now knew what his superpower really was—the ability to bring her to orgasm with ridiculous ease, and hot damn, how lucky could a girl get?

  But there was no way she could string that many words together, so she said the only thing she could.

  “Wow.”

  He rested his forehead against hers and gently squeezed her butt. “Yeah. Wow.”

  She was greatly impressed that he’d managed two words. She sucked in some much-needed oxygen, and when her heart rate returned to something close to normal, she managed to say, “Thanks. I needed that.”

  He huffed out a quick laugh. “Me, too. So thanks right back at ya.”

  She unlocked her ankles and her boneless legs slipped down and her feet hit the floor. Nick withdrew and took a single step back.

  “Don’t move,” he said.

  “Okay. Good thing you said that. Otherwise I would have run screaming into the night to get away from you.”

  His l
ips curved into a slow, wicked grin that didn’t do anything to shore up her knees, which felt like overcooked noodles. He stepped into the kitchen, and after quickly disposing of the condom, he grabbed the box, then in a feat of strength and brawn that had her heaving a gushy sigh, he swung her up into his arms and strode toward the living area.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his jaw. “Where are we going?”

  He entered his bedroom. “My den of depravity.”

  “Oh, goodie. Can I be bossy in here?”

  “I’m counting on it. Bossy, demanding, whatever you want.”

  “Whatever I want? That sounds promising. How about what you want?”

  “With thirty-five condoms left, I’m not worried.” He shouldered his way into the bathroom, then set her on her feet. After turning on the shower he drew her into his arms. “Since hard and fast went so well,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck with his warm lips, “let’s take a shower, then see how we do with soft and slow.”

  “I’ve lost track of how many times we’ve agreed today,” Jamie said, stepping over the edge of the tub, then moving beneath the cascade of warm water. Nick stepped in behind her and reached for the soap. She leaned back against his chest and luxuriated in the sensation of his big, soapy hands gliding with agonizing leisure over her skin, circling her breasts. Dipping into her navel. Then lower, to caress her folds.

  “Spread your legs.” The husky command whispered past her ear, shooting tingles of delight right down to her toes.

  “Now who’s being bossy?” she asked, lifting her leg and setting it on the edge of the tub.

  “Me. That a problem, princess?”

  His talented fingers slipped between her thighs and Jamie groaned. “Absolutely not. Bossy doesn’t scare me.”

  No, it didn’t. But as pleasure built in her once again courtesy of Nick’s clever hands and mouth caressing her, it occurred to Jamie that maybe she should be scared. Scared that this encounter, which was supposed to be nothing more than lighthearted sex, might turn into something more. And that this man, who resided hundreds of miles from where she lived, might come to mean something more than a summer fling.

  But then his talented fingers touched her ooooh, right there, and with a sigh of pleasure, she arched into Nick’s hand, shoving aside the admonishing voice. She hadn’t planned on a summer fling, but why not? She’d enjoy herself, enjoy his company while she was here, then in a few weeks, at the end of the summer, when she returned to New York, it would end.

  Easy and simple. No strings. And unlike so many things in her life lately, absolutely perfect. Nothing could go wrong.

  Absolutely nothing.

  Chapter 18

  Nick normally awoke to the sound of Godiva’s I’ve Gotta Pee! morning whine accompanied by a pelting of hot doggie breath, tempered by a few dozen canine kisses to his jaw. This morning he was greeted by a swatch of warm sunshine slanting through his open bedroom window, the cheerful chirping of birds, and the tantalizing aroma of bacon and freshly brewed coffee.

  He opened his eyes and took in the dented pillow beside him and the badly rumpled sheets. Images of the previous night flashed through his mind like a slow-motion slideshow. Jamie under him. Over him. Her mouth on him. His mouth on her. Discovering she smelled like cookies—everywhere. Raiding his kitchen for a much-needed middle-of-the-night snack. Feeding each other bits of cheese and crackers in his bed. Talking. Laughing. Learning.

  And damned if he hadn’t liked everything he’d learned. She enjoyed action movies, mystery novels, and bike riding. She was a lifelong Yankees fan, couldn’t ice skate to save her life but was deadly in a snowball fight, was a horrible singer but loved to sing anyway, enjoyed dancing, and played a mean game of Scrabble. She’d never been snow skiing, had broken her arm when she was eight, and loved visiting the Central Park zoo, and her favorite way to while away her infrequent afternoons off was to wander through the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where she’d been a member since childhood. In keeping with their sudden spate of agreeing, he’d discovered that they shared many similar views on politics and world events.

  And then there was the fact that she blew his mind in bed.

  She’d proven to be just as generous, playful, exciting, bossy, and demanding inside the bedroom as she was outside the bedroom. Hell, he had no problem with a gorgeous, naked woman telling him exactly what she wanted him to do to her, and exactly what she planned to do to him in return. Which was exactly what had happened after their snack. Several times. He wasn’t sure if they’d fallen asleep or passed out from exhaustion. All he knew was that he wasn’t exhausted any longer. In fact, he was wide awake. And starving. And for a hell of a lot more than bacon.

  After a quick stop in the bathroom, he pulled on a clean pair of boxer briefs, then opened the door leading to the living area. And halted. At the sight of Jamie, wearing the white T-shirt she’d ripped off him last night—and from what he could tell, nothing else—looking deliciously flushed and tousled and wielding his new spatula and frying pan like Julia Child herself. She looked completely at home in his kitchen, and Godiva appeared perfectly content sprawled out on the new hardwood floor, chewing on a piece of rawhide.

  Nick leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and watched Jamie slide an omelet that looked perfect enough to grace a magazine cover from the pan onto a plate that she then slid into the oven. Then she turned and caught sight of him.

  For several seconds they simply stared at each other. Looking into those golden brown eyes, his insides performed some sort of crazy swooping maneuver—like when he was a kid and would jump off the high diving board. She blinked, breaking the odd spell that had seemed to hypnotize him.

  And then she smiled.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d awakened to the sight of a barely dressed woman in his kitchen after a night of great sex. But it definitely was the first time one had ever cooked him breakfast—normally they just lounged around, waiting for their morning meal to be delivered and served.

  It was also definitely the first time he’d so greatly anticipated seeing the previous night’s lover the morning after. And the first time in a very long while he’d enjoyed a woman’s company so much—not just the sex, but the conversation and laughter. Certainly it was the first time he could recall going from amusement to blinding, raw need in a nanosecond. And it was really definitely the first time he’d ever felt knocked flat on his ass by a simple smile.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  He pushed off from the doorjamb and walked toward her, drawn to her and that smile like steel to a magnet, not stopping until his body was pressed against hers from chest to knee and he’d backed her into the countertop. He tangled his hands in her shiny tumble of curls and gave her a long, slow, deep, tongue-mating kiss. When he raised his head, smug satisfaction filled him at her dazed expression. “Good morning,” he said. “It smells great in here.”

  She looped her arms loosely around his neck. “In spite of the meager offerings in your fridge, breakfast is ready. I let Godiva out and fed her, too, although she told me she’d much rather eat bacon and eggs than dog chow.”

  “Who wouldn’t?”

  She laughed. “So … I guess this is where we have that awkward morning-after conversation.”

  “I guess.” He rolled his hips, pressing his erection tighter against her belly. “Except awkward isn’t exactly what I’m feeling.”

  A combination of humor and arousal glittered in her eyes. “It would appear not.”

  He leaned in to touch his tongue to the delicious curve where her neck and shoulder met. “There’s a surefire way we could avoid any chance of awkward conversation.”

  “By not speaking?” she suggested.

  He skimmed his hands beneath the T-shirt she wore and filled his palms with her gorgeous ass—which, he was gratified to discover, was gorgeously bare. “By having sex again.”

  She moaned and tunneled her fingers through his hair. “Okay.”
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  “I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve agreed.”

  “That’s because you’ve been saying some really agreeable things. But we can’t constantly keep having sex.”

  He moved one hand up to cup her warm, soft breast. “Why not?”

  “Well, for one thing, we’ll eventually get hungry,” she said, arching into his palm.

  “I’m already hungry.” To prove his point, he lightly bit her earlobe. “And it’s a true testament to your ridiculous sexiness that I think you smell better than that bacon and I want to taste you more than that scrumptious egg concoction you put in the oven.”

  “Thanks. Um, Nick … I need to tell you something.”

  A tiny sliver of his lust-fogged brain noted her suddenly serious tone, but it was hard to pay attention when she just felt so damn incredibly good pressed against him, and that tempting bit of skin behind her ear felt so damn velvety soft. “What’s that?”

  She planted her palms on his chest and leaned back. When he straightened, he realized she was regarding him through very serious eyes. “I’m in love.”

  For several seconds everything in him froze. Heart. Lungs. Pulse. Then they coughed back to life, his heart pounding so hard he could actually hear the beats echoing in his ears. A warm, dizzying sensation filled him, one he couldn’t name because he’d never experienced anything like it before. It wasn’t panic—he knew what that felt like. Nor was it fear—he was familiar with that one, too.

  The words holy shit rippled through his brain, but shockingly not in a “holy shit I need to get her the hell out of my house and away from me” way. No, it somehow seemed to be more in a “holy shit … that’s pretty amazing, and I think maybe I might like it” way.