Page 44 of A Beach House Beginning

It was as if she had unleashed the storm. He kissed her back with a fierce intensity that pushed every coherent thought out of her head.

Still, she sensed he was holding back. She could feel it in his leashed strength, in the tight control he was keeping over himself.

She wanted that wildness, suddenly. Would this man ever let himself lose control?

She tightened her arms around his neck and tangled her mouth with his, wanting the delicious kiss to go on and on.

Chapter Nine

He was in so much trouble.

As flames of desire licked through him, Wes tried his best to hold on to whatever semblance of control he could manage to dredge up out of the depths of his subconscious.

Jenna tasted so damn good. Like chocolate and cherries and this perfect summer night.

She made a soft, breathy sound deep in her throat and her arms seemed to tighten around him.

He could feel his control slip away, inch by painful inch. All he wanted to do was kiss her, taste her, make love to her.

He traced a hand beneath her sweater, to the warm, luscious skin there. She shivered and arched against his hand, pressing her curves into his chest.

He was aching with need, his brain empty of everything but how much he wanted this woman in his arms, in his bed.

His hand slid from her back to one hip. He wanted to touch those curves she pressed against him.

He was inches from his goal when she made that soft, sexy sound again.

The sound seemed to yank him back to his senses. What the hell was he doing? He had told himself he couldn’t do this again. He wanted her too much, though his kissing her again only showed him how very much he was beginning to care for her.

Beyond that, she had just shared with him her harrowing ordeal. She had been tormented, stalked, terrified by a man who couldn’t take no for an answer.

Even though she had made it clear she wasn’t interested in anything with him, here he was mauling her in the garden of Brambleberry House, like he was some sort of high school kid making out with a girl behind the bleachers of the football stadium.

He jerked away, disgusted with himself.

She looked small and delicate, lovely as tiny violets springing across the grass in May.

He had spent three years feeling dehumanized, marginalized, discarded.

But he never felt as barbaric as he did right now, taking in the sight of Jenna Haynes staring up at him with huge eyes.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

She blinked a few times and drew in a deep breath. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Because I had no right to kiss you like a starving man who had just been snatched off the streets and plunked down at a table in the middle of a feast.”

She made a small, strangled kind of sound. “It was only a kiss, Wes. You didn’t attack me or anything. In fact, as I recall, I started things.”

He closed his eyes, remembering that heart-stopping moment when she had spanned the distance between them and pressed her mouth to his.

Something told him he would be reliving that moment for a long, long time.

“Maybe,” he finally said. “But I took things too far. I shouldn’t have, especially after everything you told me about what you’ve been through. I promise, it won’t happen again.”

She gazed at him, and he watched as she seemed to regain her composure with every passing second.

She nodded and pressed her lips together, those delicious lips he could have explored all night long.

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