Page 23 of Sweet Love at Bayside
Her eyes opened, and he feared he’d blown it.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I got carried away.” He pushed up on his palms, and she wrapped her hand around his neck, tugging him back down.
“Weare getting carried away,” she said with a shy smile. “I don’t usually…”
“We don’t have to.” He touched his lips to hers, wishing he had used the head on his shoulders instead of letting the one between his legs lead.
She guided his hand to her thigh. “Iwantto.”
Her breathy plea obliterated his control.
A long while later, he gathered her against him in the tight space, and they shifted onto their sides. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes hazy. Pleasuring Desiree was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t made love. Sending her soaring brought him immense pleasure, and more than that, it had unearthed something inside him that made him want to hold her, protect her, and make herhis.
“There’s my beautiful girl.”
She pressed her forehead to his chest. “I don’t usually…”
“Shh. I don’t either.” He tipped her chin up and gazed into her eyes. “All that matters is this, right here. You and me and this powerful thing happening between us.”
Chapter Six
DESIREE AWOKE EARLY the next morning with the need for structure, which wasn’t surprising given that things had been in such turmoil since she’d arrived. Except last night, which hadn’t been tumultuous in the same sense that the rest of her life was. It had been surprising, exciting, and wonderful. She’d never gotten completely lost in a man like that before, much less in atruck. But she couldn’t have pried herself away from Rick if she’d wanted to. She’dcravedhim. And feeling his body against hers had made her want him all the more deeply. Even after their rampant make-out session, they’d had a hard time separating. They’d shared so manyone last kisses that she thought Violet might find them lip-locked on the porch in the morning. She touched the tiny spot beside her lip where his whiskers had left a little burn, and a shiver of heat skittered through her. The man knew how to kiss, and touch, and say all the right things. He’d left her body humming for hours, which was probably why she’d woken up with her head spinning and the need to get her arms around her new summer plans.
She picked up her phone, her pulse quickening as she reread the text Rick had sent shortly after he’d left last night.Sweet dreams, beautiful. I miss you already.She’d had so many conflicting thoughts—Were they moving too fast? Was she getting caught up in him because of the craziness in the rest of her life?—and his text had soothed her worries. He seemed to know just what she needed.
Boy, does he ever.
He’d been open and honest about what he’d wanted, and that had made her want him even more.
She had never had an orgasm with a man before. Not once, and certainly not with nothing more than kisses and his hand. But their molten kisses alone had brought her right up to the verge of release, never mind what he’d done with his hand.
She chewed on those thoughts throughout the morning as she walked around the house making a to-do list, starting with her outdated bedroom and bathroom. She’d taken one of the two bedrooms on the third floor. She liked the privacy and the gorgeous bay views out the nearly floor-to-ceiling windows, but also, it had been her grandmother’s bedroom, and it provided a sense of stability she desperately needed. But if she was going to be there for the summer, she needed to get bedding from this century. She spotted Violet on the beach with Cosmos, and she warmed all over.My new family.
She carried that thought with her as she continued on her list-making journey. Crossing the hall, she passed the narrow door that provided access to the stairs leading up to the widow’s walk. She used to sit up there for hours as a little girl, dreaming of all the ways her mother might suddenly show up for a lengthy visit, instead of the quick forty-eight hours at the end of her vacation. She debated going up now, but she wasn’t ready for the emotions she knew would trample over her when she did. Instead, she pushed open the heavy wooden door to the other bedroom, swallowing hard at the sight of her mother’s art studio in progress. The ceiling and walls had been stripped down to the ancient framework and rafters. Unmatched wooden tables were littered with painting supplies, some of which were open, the paint dried up. Masking tape secured sketches of women to the studs, and the windowsill was home to a host of paintbrushes, pencils, paints, magazines, and jars of dingy water with paintbrushes sticking out like lost bones. Half-finished paintings sat on easels and rested against studs.
She took a few steps into the room, inhaling the scents of her mother’s chaos and unearthing memories she didn’t realize she still held on to. She didn’t have many memories from when Lizza and her father were married, and she was never sure what was real and what she’d fabricated out of desire or resentment. But as she stood in the midst of her mother’s studio, flashes of the past rushed in. She remembered standing in her mother’s studio in her childhood home, trying to get her mother’s attention. Talking hadn’t worked. Singing hadn’t worked. She’d nearly yelled, and still she hadn’t broken through her mother’s trance. Her hands sweated as she remembered knocking a jar of paint off a table and the horrified expression on her mother’s face. Her chest constricted from the memories. She spun on her heels and stormed out, closing the door behind her. She leaned against it, palms to her chest, waiting for her heart to stop racing before she headed downstairs.
She’d forgotten how high the ceilings were and how each room felt twice as big as rooms in more recently built homes. She was glad her mother was remodeling. But as she moved from room to room, she wondered where the expensive renovations had taken place. The dark hardwood floors were still worn and scuffed, and there were cracks she remembered from her childhood in the drywall. Even the kitchen, though spacious, with a big center island, hadn’t been updated beyond a new refrigerator.
She was working at the kitchen table when the door to the patio opened and Cosmos’s nails clicked across the floor. He went paws-up on her leg, and she lifted him into her lap, wet paws and all. He licked her chin, his eyes sparkling, like she was the best surprise ever.
“Morning,” she said to Violet, who had on the same black bikini top she’d worn yesterday and another pair of cutoffs. She looked relaxed and ready to hang out on the beach, but Desiree hoped she’d help her out with the items on her list.
“What are you working on?” Violet peered over her shoulder.
“I made a list of things we need to do to get the shop going. I didn’t see a sign out by the road, so I thought maybe we could make one so people know we’re open. Unless you saw one stored away somewhere? I didn’t check the closets. I guess I’ll do that first.” She made a note to check the closets. “I also made a plan for working at the shop.” She knew Violet had a hard time with schedules, so she didn’t call it that. She pushed the notebook across the table. “I alternated mornings and afternoons, so neither of us is stuck there all day.”
Violet smirked. “Aschedule? Seriously?”
“It’s aplan, not a schedule.” Ignoring the deadpan look her sister was giving her, she pushed a little harder. “Why not? I’d like to know when I need to work and when I can go to the beach, or out with Rick, or—”
“Sorry, Des, but I really do suck at schedules.” Violet pushed the notebook away. “Although I’m glad you’re hooking up with Rick. That should loosen you up.”
Why had she thought this was going to be the easy part of getting organized? A schedule was rudimentary. It wasn’t like she was asking Violet tomakethe schedule.
“I’m notthatuptight. But I do like to know my plans. Otherwise, how will we know who’s running the shop and when?”
“We live in the same house,” Violet pointed out. “I’m pretty sure we’ll figure it out.”
