Page 4 of Secrets at Seaside
“I’m pretty sure you know what I need,” she said in a husky voice as she pressed her hips to his.
You don’t mean that. You’re just drunk.He clenched his jaw against his mounting desire. She was all he’d ever wanted, and she was the one person he knew he should walk away from.
“Amy.”
“Tony.” Her voice was thin and shaky.
“You’re drunk.” He peeled her hands from his chest. She got like this when she was drunk: sultry, sexier, eager. As adults, she’d never taken it this far. She’d made innuendos over the years, but more in jest than anything else. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew Amy cared about him, but he also knew she sometimes forgot things. Important things. Life-altering events that were less painful if forgotten. He was certain it was why she drank when they were together and why he’d spent years protecting her. Not that she needed protecting often. Drinking was a summer thing for Amy, and really, she rarely drank too much. She didn’t drink when she wasn’t at the Cape. He knew this because over recent years, after Amy had graduated from college and settled into her business, he’d begun texting her more often. He’d been unable to ignore his need for a connection to her any longer. He could count on one hand how many times she’d made reference to drinking.
“I might be a little drunk.” Her sweet lips curved into a nervous smile. “But I think I know whatyouwant.”
What I want and what I’ll let myself have are two very different things.
He exhaled, took her hand, and turned toward the bed. “Sit down and let me help you get out of your heels and then I’ll go back to my room. I don’t want you to break your ankle.”
She swayed on her heels and attached herself to his side again. “I don’t want you to go to your room.”
Tony stepped back. The back of his legs met the dresser. “Amy—”
“Tony,” she said huskily, taking him by surprise.
“Ames,” he whispered. She was killing him. Any other man would have silenced her with a kiss, carried her to the bed, pushed that sexy dress up to her neck, and given her what she wanted. But Tony had made a career out of resisting Amy, protecting her. He respected her too much to let her make a mistake she would only regret when she sobered up.
He gripped her forearms and held her at a safe distance.
She narrowed her eyes and reached for him.
For a breath he closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the feel of her touching him. Every muscle in his body corded tight as her hand slid down his chest. He reluctantly gripped her wrist.
“Amy, stop.” He’d learned his lesson with her when he was a teenager, and he was never letting either of them go back to that well of hurt. “We’re not doing this.”
The dark seductiveness that had filled her eyes when she was touching him was gone as quickly as it had appeared. Her shoulders rounded forward, and hurt filled her eyes.
“Why?”
He felt like a heel. An idiot. A guy whoshouldhave taken her to bed, if only to love her as she deserved to be loved. Even if she might not remember or appreciate it in the morning. He draped an arm over her shoulder and pulled her into a hug.
“Come on, Amy. You’re drunk and you won’t remember any of this tomorrow. Let me help you get ready for bed.”
“Don’t you want me?”
Her broken voice nearly did him in, and when her arms went limp, he tightened his grip on her. “Amy,” he whispered again.
In the space of a few seconds she pushed away from him, determination written in the tension around her mouth and the fisting of her hands.
“Tell me why you don’t want me. What is it? Am I too flat-chested? Too unattractive?”
“No.”You’re the sexiest woman I know. Anger felt so wrong coming from her that it momentarily numbed him.
“I know I suck at seduction, but don’t these take-me high heels or this stupid dress turn you on? Even a little?”
“Your take-me heels? Boy, you are drunk. You don’t realize what you’re saying. Come on.” He reached for her hand and she shrugged him off again.
“Come on, Amy. Let me help you.”Before I give in to what I really want and lay your vulnerable, gorgeous, sexy body down and devour you.
“So that’s it. I don’t turn you on.” She paced the room on wobbly ankles, looking like she was playing dress up in her mother’s high heels—and it did crazy things to Tony’s body. He followed beside her in case she stumbled, fighting the urge to give in and show her just how much she turned him on.
“Maybe if I had bigger boobs, or if I were better at acting sexy, or if I were smarter, you’d want me.”
