by Addison Cole
Her eyes came open, and pain was etched in merciless lines across his forehead, underscoring the longing in his eyes.
“How can you see all of that in me?” His voice was full of wonder, as his body shifted closer.
She raised her shoulders in response. She didn’t have the answers. She’d never seen or felt so much radiating from a person before, and her heart was racing with the magnificence, and intensity, of it.
“What do you see when you look at me?” she asked.
“A future.”
He lowered his mouth to hers, and Sky didn’t try to rein in her desires or to figure out if she was ready as his hands moved over her skin. His lips were soft and warm, his body safe and strong. As his mouth trailed along her shoulder in a sweep of slow, shivery kisses, heat spread from the tip of her head to the ends of her toes.
They kissed for what felt like hours, with the stars shining down on them, and the bay ebbing and flowing just beyond the dunes. She wasn’t nervous. She wasn’t caught up in need and out of her mind with desire. She was blissfully, happily swept up in them.
Being with Sawyer felt too right to be wrong.
“You’re beautiful, Sky. Inside here.” He pressed a kiss above her heart. “And in here.” He kissed her forehead.
His hands slid up her arms, light as a feather, leaving a trail of goose bumps. He brought her fingertips to his lips and kissed each one.
“I want to cherish you.” He dragged his tongue along her wrist, spreading a rush of heat through her.
He lifted her arm above her head and kissed the sensitive crease of her elbow, working his way up to her neck, then along the curve of her shoulder again. He dragged his tongue along the ridge, and then followed the line with his finger, and when he stopped, she knew he’d noticed her tattoo.
“May I see?”
She rolled onto her stomach, and he gathered her hair to one side and lifted her shirt, then traced the lines of her tattoo with his finger.
“Roots,” he said. “They run deep.”
“Family,” she whispered.
She closed her eyes as he traced the roots across her shoulder blade, then down the center of her spine. His finger trailed up the trunk of the tree. Then he pressed his lips to the center of her back.
“Lay your head on my shoulder. Your heart next to mine,” he whispered. “I’ll take it all. Hear it through.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’ll wrestle your demons, to remain beside you.”
She wondered at his words, but as his hands moved down, and he traced the word Blessed that was tattooed at the base of her spine, she felt more at peace, happier, than ever.
“After I lost my mom, when I got back on my feet, I had that done. Her name was Bea, which means blessed.”
He pressed his lips to each of her vertebrae. “Why are there only two limbs on the tree?”
She rolled onto her back. His eyes were so dark, so serious, that she felt herself falling into them again—falling into him. “When I designed it, I didn’t know what my future would look like, so I left it blank. After my father got out of rehab, I added two limbs to symbolize his growth and mine.”
“Same cloth, Sky. You weathered your mother’s death and your father’s alcoholism. I’ve endured the slow loss of my own father. Every word on my back symbolizes a piece of me or a piece of him. A piece of my family being chipped away. The twisted, awful pain, and the incredibly wonderful memories. You and I wear the scars of our lives in words and symbols.”
She didn’t wait for him to lower his lips to hers. She arched up to press her mouth to his, opening up to him in ways she never had to anyone else. The way he spoke, as if every word came directly from his soul, drew her further into him and made her want to know more about him, to feel the emotions inside him.
His arms circled her. She’d already become accustomed to the way he held her so close, like he couldn’t get close enough, and she felt it, too. Her emotions swelled when they were together, and her desires spiraled through her, vying for more—more of him, more of his time, more of his truths.
Their kiss spoke of their intense connection, without pretenses, without fear or a frantic pace. He deepened the kiss, and she didn’t want to hold back anymore. She didn’t care that this was only their second date, or that she’d once said she’d wait to have sex if she felt herself falling for a man. She didn’t want to wait until she fell head over heels in love—she wanted to feel their bodies join together, to feel herself tumbling down that magical slope.
Her fingers moved over the hard planes of his chest, to the grooves between his abs. He covered her hand with his.
“Sky.”
He searched her eyes again, and she wanted to thank him for being so patient and for caring enough to ask again just to be sure. But she got lost in the emotions gazing back at her.
“You’re sure?”
“Very,” was all she could manage before wrapping her arm around his neck and pulling him into another kiss.
Chapter Ten
THE NEXT MORNING Sky awoke early to an empty room, with the early-morning sun peering down on her through the glass ceiling of the rooftop room in Sawyer’s house. She rolled over and found a handwritten note on the pillow beside her, and like the one he’d given her the other night with his phone number, it was written on a torn scrap of paper. Lying beside it was a single pink Knock Out rose. She smiled as she lifted the rose and inhaled its sweet aroma, then read the note.
Crying out in your movements. Graceful, longing, hanging by a thread. The longing I see. Set it free, lovely. Come to me.
She marveled again at his words, wondering if he was the P-town poet. Turning the paper over, she found another note, written less hastily, every letter carefully formed.
You were sleeping so soundly I couldn’t bear to wake you. There’s coffee on the counter and clean towels in the bathroom. I’m sure by the time you wake up I’ll be inside, but if not, join me? S.
She walked to the windows overlooking the water and noticed a few pencils and pens and a scrap of paper against the wall. He’d said this was where he wrote songs, and she imagined him sitting by the window, overlooking the sunset as he scrawled verse after verse. She gazed out the window and caught sight of Sawyer down on the beach. His shoulders were rounded forward, his hands fisted, as he punched the air. He bounced on the balls of his feet, the way she’d seen fighters do on television. He was shirtless, and from her vantage point, the words on his back blurred together, shadows of darkness inked into his skin.
She watched him with interest as he fought an invisible contender. She pressed the note to her chest. She hadn’t ever woken up alone in a man’s house before, and strangely, she didn’t feel as though she’d been abandoned. Sawyer intrigued her. There were so many layers to him. He’d cherished every inch of her body last night with tenderness and had taken her equally as roughly and possessively in the wee hours of the morning, somehow knowing exactly when or what she’d needed and wanted with every touch.
She gazed out the window as Sawyer turned toward the house. Even from so far away she could tell he was smiling as he lifted his hand in a similar wave to the one he’d given her outside her window in P-town. She felt a pang of excitement race through her and then realized she was standing there naked. A shiver of embarrassment slid over her and just as quickly melted away.
After a moment he went back to fighting the invisible opponent.
He was a fighter.
But boy did he know how to love a woman.
Twenty minutes later she’d showered and used his toothpaste on her finger as a toothbrush as best she could. She dressed in her clothes from the night before and headed out to greet the day and find the man who had set her head spinning. As she descended the stairs she realized that there were substantial railings on both sides that she hadn’t noticed last night. For his father, she assumed, and she wondered if he could still navigate the stairs.
How had she missed the enormous gaping hole that
was cordoned off in the center of the house between the living room and the kitchen? And what on earth was it for? Outside, she realized just how consumed by their passion she must have been, because she also hadn’t noticed the wheelchair ramp beside the steps, or the heavy railings on the steps there, either. She walked around the back of the house and found more recently installed ramps, one leading to the patio doors, another to the first level of the deck, and it looked as though another unfinished ramp ran between the first and second levels of the deck. Sawyer had obviously been hard at work to prepare the house for his father, and that touched her even deeper.
She headed over the dunes. The sand held the chill of early morning beneath her bare feet. The sounds of the waves met her as she walked over the top of the dune and Sawyer came into focus. He faced the water, one powerful leg planted in the sand, his other foot rested against his inner thigh. From the rear she could see his elbows and knew his hands were pressed together. She had done yoga for many years, but was surprised to see a man as big and strong as Sawyer—a fighter—practicing something so passive. In her mind, she pictured fighters in constant motion, spirals of tension wound tightly together and bound by anger. Sawyer was proving her wrong at every turn.
In an effort not to distract him, she walked a little closer, then sank silently down to the sand and watched him. Sky was as taken with a hot male body as the next woman, but she was even more drawn to who a person was inside, and she liked who Sawyer was. When he’d said that it took strength to allow herself to be weak, it had resonated with her in a way that she hadn’t fully realized until later, when he’d slept soundly behind her, holding her in his arms. She’d felt feminine and protected. She’d always enjoyed her femininity, but all around her society sent messages that women were supposed to be strong.
As she watched Sawyer standing as stable as a mountain in front of her, the memory of his touch lingered on her skin.
She guessed she wanted to have her cake and eat it, too, because she wanted her own business and to know that she was building a future doing the things she enjoyed. She wanted to be respected and treated as the smart, creative person she was—but she also reveled in the feeling of being soft and feminine in Sawyer’s arms. Cared for and protected. The fact that she was getting tired of being protected by her brothers wasn’t lost on her. Maybe this was what happened when younger sisters began spreading their wings.
Sky wasn’t sure, but for now she had other things on her mind. Wanting to be protected was a world away from knowing the guy she spent the night with walked willingly into a boxing ring to punch and be punched. Her stomach knotted with the thought. She had been pushing away thoughts of his career for two days. Before they’d slept together she was able to separate what he did from who he was. She realized, as she sat there watching him with a gentle breeze sweeping off the bay and seabirds pecking at the sand, that she’d probably handled things backward. She should have given his career serious thought before she’d opened her body, and her heart, to him.
Now her thoughts were blurred by the memory of his touch, the sweet things he whispered in her ear, the look of want and need, appreciation and lust, that filled his eyes when they were making love.
SAWYER SENSED SKY’S presence before he heard the sweet little sigh that followed her deep inhalation. He hadn’t wanted to leave her alone this morning, but he’d been too revved up to lie beside her. He’d already kept her up half the night, and he knew she probably had things she had to do today. If he had lain beside her for one minute more, he wouldn’t have been able to resist taking her in his arms and making love to her again. And after his run, when he’d seen her standing in the window, his body had reacted even more strongly. He’d had to rely on yoga just to center himself and calm down.
He lowered his foot to the sand and turned to find her gorgeous eyes trained on him, spurring a rush of sweet memories of their beautiful night together.
“Good morning,” he said as he leaned in to kiss her. He’d loved waking up with her in his arms and seeing her smiling face now. And the way she was looking at him, like she felt the same pull he did, made his chest feel as though it might burst.
“Hi,” she said in a breathy, soft voice.
He knew he’d always think of that voice as her morning voice. She spoke with the tone of a satisfied lover and the shiver of a new girlfriend full of hope.
“Thank you for the rose and the note.”
He draped an arm over her shoulder, and it felt natural when she rested her head against him. “I’m glad you liked them, because, Sky, I really like you.”
“I really like you, too,” she said, meeting his gaze. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
She turned to face him, and she looked so beautiful that he had to press his mouth to hers again.
“Sorry,” he said as he brushed her hair over her shoulder. “You looked so beautiful, and you smell so good…and I’ve thought about kissing you all morning.”
Her lips curved into a smile that sparkled in her eyes. “You’re apologizing for kissing me? More, please.” She leaned forward with a sultry look in her eyes.
He could kiss her for hours, get lost in her taste, her warmth, and the sexy little sounds of appreciation that slipped from her lips. When they finally parted, it took a moment for her to come back into focus, and he could tell by her heavy lids that she was still hovering in a lustful cloud, too.
He pressed his hand to her cheek. “How can your kisses transport me so far away?” He tipped her chin up and kissed her again, softer this time. “What did you want to ask me?”
“Ask you?” she whispered, making him smile.
“You said you had something to ask me.”
“Oh. Right.” Her cheeks flushed. “Um…The note you left for me and what you said last night when you held me. Are you…? I mean, is it you…?” She drew in a breath and exhaled slowly before meeting his gaze again. “Are you the P-town poet?”
“I don’t know what I was expecting you to ask, but it wasn’t that.” He gazed out at the water, wondering what in the heck she was talking about. “I don’t know anything about a P-town poet, but I’m pretty sure I’m not him.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure? Because there are so many similarities, that I just thought…”
“I think I would know if I were a poet. It’s kind of cool to know that you think my songwriting is poetic, though.”
“Sorry. It’s just that your words are so powerful. You’re like this incredible mix of strength and tenderness.”
He pulled her in closer and kissed her again. “I’m a man. I should be hard, rough, and callous.”
She laughed. “Oh, you’re hard, all right.”
“You are a clever girl, aren’t you?” He kissed her again, lowering her back to the sand as she laughed.
“I speak the truth,” she challenged.
“And I’m proud of it.”
Her eyes widened with feigned innocence. “Oh, my, you big strong man.” She batted her thick lashes. “Maybe you should show me how hard, rough, and callous you are.” She wound her arms around his neck, and he showered her lips, jaw, and neck with kisses, inciting another heart-tugging giggle.
They made out like teenagers, kissing and necking on the beach until a family came walking over the dunes down a ways from them, but close enough to see them. Two towheaded boys ran toward the water laughing excitedly.
Sawyer helped Sky up from the sand. Her cheeks were pink from his whiskers. He rubbed his jaw. “I should probably shave this off, huh?”
“I love your scruff.” She touched his cheek, and he closed his eyes, soaking it in.
“I don’t want to scratch up your beautiful face.”
She went up on her toes and said, “Scratch me up, baby.”
He tugged her in close again. “What are your plans today?”
She shrugged. “Let’s see…Go home and feed Merlin, change into clean clothes, do some painting at the
shop, and look for more chimes and maybe a new chair for the shop. I live a very exciting life.”
“Trust me, exciting is overrated. Happy is much better.”
She pressed her lips to his chest. “Everything you say is poetic.”
He draped an arm over her shoulder as they walked toward the house.
“That’s not poetic. It’s just the truth.”
“It’s also poetic.”
“You like me, so you hear more than the words I say.”
She gazed up at him with confusion in her eyes. His hand slid down her arm, and he laced their fingers together.
“You listen with your heart, Sky. You’re a true romantic.”
“Maybe,” she said. “But I don’t know how to listen any other way, and even that was poetic. I’ve never met anyone like you, Sawyer. You make me feel things I never felt before, and…”
“And?”
She lowered her voice and said, “And do things that I don’t usually do with a guy after knowing him for such a short time.”
“Sky, you can’t possibly know how much it means to me that you trust me enough to be an intimate part of your life. You should know that I’m not a guy who hooks up with every woman I come across.”
“I didn’t mean that—”
“I know. But I want you to know this. I’m a pretty private guy. I like my solitude, and…” He paused, trying to figure out how much he should reveal. One look in her trusting eyes and he knew he couldn’t hold anything back. “I’m not a saint, but I haven’t been the kind of guy that sleeps around for a very long time, and I think I’ve pretty well sowed any wild oats I might have had.”
She searched his eyes, and he hoped she saw the sincerity in them.
“I knew you were nervous when I first carried you upstairs, and I realize that was presumptuous of me. I’m sorry if you felt at all rushed. I was so caught up in you—”
She shook her head, and her lips curved into the sweet smile that he already couldn’t imagine living without. “I think I rushed myself, but by the time we came together last night, everything felt perfect.”
