Page 47 of A Brambleberry Summer

None of that stopped him from yearning. He wanted Rosa Galvez in his arms, in his bed, in his life.

In some ways, Wyatt felt as if he had been living in a state of suspended animation for the past three years, as if he had been frozen, like some glitch on one of Logan’s video games, while the world went on around him.

It wasn’t a good place, but it wasn’t really terrible, either. He could still enjoy time with his son, with his sister and her family, with his friends.

He handled his day-to-day responsibilities, cared for Logan, managed to do a good job of clearing his caseload. But whenever he thought about what the future might hold for him, all he could see was a vast, empty void.

Nothing had been able to yank him out of that emptiness. Even when his house caught fire, he hadn’t really been devastated, only annoyed at the inconvenience.

His own reaction had begun to trouble him. People had told him that a house fire was one of the most traumatic things that could happen to a person, but Wyatt had merely shrugged and moved into problem-solving mode. Where they would live, what he might change about the house as he was having crews work on the renovations.

Even something as dramatic as being displaced hadn’t really bothered him.

He could see now that his reaction had been a self-protective mechanism. After Tori’s shocking death and the vast grief that had consumed him, he had slipped into some kind of place where he did not let anything touch him deeply.

Now he felt as if kissing Rosa had somehow kicked him in the gut, jolting him off his axis—that safe, bland existence—and into a world where everything seemed more intense.

A few months ago, he would have felt sad about the crime scene he had dealt with earlier, but it wouldn’t have left him feeling shattered.

He was beginning to feel things more deeply and wasn’t at all sure he liked it. A big part of him wanted to go back to the safety of his inertia.

If kissing her once could jerk him into this weird place, maybe kissing her a second time would help set things back the way they were before.

Even as he thought it, he knew kissing her again was a stupid idea. That did not stop him from reaching for her, pulling her into his arms again and lowering his mouth to hers.

She made a small, surprised sound, but didn’t pull away. If she had, he would have stopped instantly. Instead, her arms went around his neck again and she pressed against him. She kissed him back, her mouth soft, sweet, delicious.

As she parted her lips and touched him tentatively with her tongue, he went a little crazy, all the raw emotions of the evening consolidating into one, his wild need for Rosa Galvez.

He deepened the kiss, his mouth firm and demanding on hers. He had to be closer to her. To touch her, to feel her against him.

She said his name again with that sweet little accented pronunciation, this time in a voice that was throaty and aroused.

He wanted to absorb it inside him.

He wanted to lose himself insideher.

His body ached with it, suddenly, the need he had shoved down for so long. He wanted to make love to Rosa Galvez right here in his living room. To capture her gasps and sighs with his mouth, to see her shatter apart in his arms.

Her breasts were pressed against him and he wanted more. He wanted to see her, to taste her. He reached beneath the hem of her shirt, to the warm, sweet-smelling skin beneath.

She shivered. The movement rippled over his fingers and brought him to his senses.

What the hell was wrong with him?

This woman had just spent hours sleeping in his easy chair to help him with his son and he repaid her by groping her in his front room?

He couldn’t seem to catch his breath, but he did his best as he dropped his arms from around her.

She was breathing hard, too, her hair loose from the messy bun she had been wearing. She gazed at him out of eyes that looked huge and impossibly dark.

She had been so sweet to him, so comforting and warm when he needed it most. He had been at the lowest point he could remember in a long time and she had held him and lifted him out of it. In return, he had let his hunger for her overwhelm all his common sense.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice ragged. “I don’t know what happened there.”

“Do not apologize.” Her voice wobbled a little bit.

“Are you...okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

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