Page 41 of Forbidden Kisses
“You’re a better person than I am. I wouldn’t have the patience if his kid is anything like him.”
Jack sat down beside her. The seat behind the stern wasn’t wide. His thigh touched hers. If not for the houses lining the banks, he’d be unable to resist touching her more, kissing her, laying her down on the floor and making her moan his name over and over like she’d done the other night.
He stood, busying himself with unnecessary work. “Tristan is actually not bad. We’re all a mixture of our parents. A little of the good and the bad.”
“Right.” Grace’s voice was small behind him.
“I’m not talking about you and your mother.” He glanced back over his shoulder.
“But it’s true. We’re all a little bit of our parents. The best and worst qualities.” Grace pressed her lips together as she looked out on the water.
“You know I’m not your mom’s biggest fan. I do know she’s got a lot of good in her. My father wouldn’t have married her if she didn’t. She wouldn’t have had a daughter like you if she didn’t.” He sat back down beside her.
“Like me?” Her gaze met his.
Good Lord. Those brown eyes of hers were like quicksand. “You have one of the biggest hearts of anyone I’ve ever known.” His throat tightened as he realized something. He wasn’t just lusting, he was falling for this woman. And there was no life jacket or preserver for a man falling overboard like this.
It was either sink or swim.
—
Grace finished the last sip of her red Dixie cup of wine, her brain and body already intoxicated even though she’d only had one cup. A full moon hung above them now, casting its florescent light all around. “Not sure my sea legs will be working as well after this,” she said, placing her emptied cup on the floor beside where she was seated.
They’d moved out into deeper waters now. The trees were just dark shadows in the distance.
“You won’t be walking for a while yet,” Jack said.
Grace’s face took on that uncomfortable, too-much-wine feeling. She looked down to avoid letting Jack see her oversized smile. She wasn’t drunk, just feeling all kinds of good. Part of that had to do with him—a large part.
“You’re beautiful when you smile like that,” he said, sweeping a hand to place her windblown hair behind her ear.
A hot feeling rode up from her toes to her stomach. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth to anchor her runaway smile.
Jack reached for a folded blanket beside the cooler and laid it down on the open floor of the boat. “I know it’s not the most comfortable surface for lying back, but I thought we could look at the stars. It’s a favorite pastime of fishermen, you know.”
“Oh yeah?”
He reached for her hand to help her lower to the floor. She held on to his tightly, surprised at how off balanced she felt. Then they lay back together, close enough that they touched. The soft hair on Jack’s arm resting against hers aroused her senses.
Were they really just going to look at the stars?
Yes, it was all very romantic, but so was doing other things under the stars. Things she’d been thinking about since stepping aboard.
Jack pointed up at the sky and started to speak. Grace was tired of talking, though. Tired of resisting what she wanted, and right now all she wanted was Jack.
Unable to help herself, uninhibited by the wine and the romantic environment, she rolled on top of him and crushed her mouth over his.
Judging by the stiff protrusion that met her inner thigh, he wanted her just as much.
“Well, hello there,” he said, smiling against her mouth.
“I’m sorry,” she said, even though she didn’t mean it.
His hand slid down her back and settled on her bottom, pulling her snug against him. “I’m not. I’d decided tonight was for romance only, but I can’t think of anything more romantic than making love to you on this boat.”
White-hot heat tore through her. She was so hot that maybe it was time to start stripping.
As if reading her mind, Jack tugged the hem of her shirt up on her back and then over her head. The rest of her clothes fell away in the wake of his needy hands until she was tipsy and naked on the floor of his pontoon boat—on a boat ride to nowhere in particular, except his body was promising to shoot her to the low-hanging full moon.
