by Donna Alward
The medicinal smell of the liquid should have killed anything arousing between them. It certainly wasn’t some sweet-smelling massage oil or chocolate-flavored body butter … good God, where were those ideas coming from? And yet, despite the sharp scent it was his hands, his fingers, which sent her into a slow melt. The way his palms ran from her cheekbones over her jaw, how the tips of his fingers trailed down the curve of her neck.
Like a caress.
A strange look passed over his face, one Abby couldn’t decipher, but it was so serious, so conflicted, that her heart did a bump in response.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said quietly, his fingers hesitating but remaining lightly on her skin.
She knew he wasn’t talking about her sunburn or anything else. He was apologizing for the party, and this time she knew he truly meant it. This time she understood why he’d done it.
“You should have told me,” she whispered. “I would have understood, Tom. You let me believe that you’d…”
“I know,” he said, but still his fingers traced the curve between her neck and shoulder.
“Why?”
His dark gaze met hers. “Because I’m an ass. Because I wanted to forget about Erin and Josh and just pretend to be a guy inviting a girl to a picnic and not feel guilty about it.”
“But you didn’t deserve what he said. Jess and Sarah told me…”
“Jess and Sarah don’t know everything, Abby.”
Of course they didn’t. How could they? Tom kept his cards close to his chest, didn’t he? He wasn’t the kind to spill his guts, even to family. She understood that—probably better than he could imagine.
Abby squeezed his arm. “Of course no one knows everything. Everybody has their secrets. But you never say what you really mean. It’s like you’re afraid for people to get too close. Like with the house. Like the party. Why is it so hard to be honest?” In the back of her mind the words “pot calling kettle” echoed, but she ignored them. With Tom she’d always made her wishes crystal clear. Whatever else she’d kept to herself didn’t signify.
“I don’t know.” He swallowed and she saw his Adam’s apple bob. “I don’t know why it’s so hard to be honest with you.”
Her heart stuttered. Only with her? “Maybe it makes you feel vulnerable.”
“Maybe it does.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “What do you want to know?”
They hovered in the moment, a pause that felt like once this moment was over things wouldn’t be the same between them. She desperately wanted him to kiss her again. To kiss her, not some ghost from his past. And he was waiting for her to say something.
“Were you ever with her after she and Josh hooked up?”
“Define ‘with her.’”
Abby swallowed. “Did you sleep with her?”
“No.”
Relief flooded her body. She would have thought less of him for that.
“Kiss her?”
His gaze clung to hers. “Yes,” he answered, utterly honest and not looking away.
A million questions sprang into her mind. When? Why? How many times? “Is that why Josh is so angry with you?”
“Josh doesn’t know about it. And telling him won’t accomplish anything now. He’s been hurt enough.”
It almost sounded like Tom was trying to protect his cousin. Or maybe he was just protecting himself.
She lifted her chin for one last question. “Do you still feel guilty about it?”
“Every damn day.”
She should be turning away, avoiding what was bound to be complicated and messy.
“I lied. I have one more question.” Her heart seemed to sit in her throat as she licked her suddenly dry lips. “Are you ever going to kiss me again?” she asked softly.
“I shouldn’t.” He sighed. “I promised myself I wouldn’t. You complicate things for me, Abby.” Yet even as he said it, Tom’s fingers tightened on her shoulder, his head dipping closer to hers. Then, just when she thought she’d surely die of anticipation, he surrendered to the need they were both feeling and kissed her.
He tasted like morning coffee and man and she gave herself up, leaning her head back and opening her mouth wider in surrender. God, but the man knew how to kiss so that her knees turned to jelly. She forgot about her sunburn and how horrible her face must look and the tightness in her legs and pressed her hands to his chest, focusing instead on the feel of hard muscle beneath her palms.
Tom’s hands reached behind, cupping her bottom and pulling her close against him, the intimate contact sending a forbidden thrill rippling through her body.
“Won’t the other guys be here soon?” she murmured, tilting her head to one side as Tom grazed light kisses down the side of her neck, making goose bumps pop up on her skin.
“Not for another hour or so. They’re picking up the paint for the hall and stairway.”
“An hour…” she whispered, suddenly realizing that her fingers were playing over his T-shirt while his hips rubbed against hers.
This wasn’t just a kiss. This was foreplay.
“An hour,” he confirmed roughly.
She slipped her hands beneath his shirt, feeling the warm skin of his back before sliding them over his ribs and across his abs. He was so hard all over, and she let her fingertips explore each ridge and ripple until his breath grew ragged.
“Tom?”
His lips were by her ear and his warm breath sent delicious shivers down her spine as he answered, “Hmmm?”
“Are you thinking about her now?”
She knew the question could halt everything in its tracks. But she had to know. No matter where this led, she did not want to be a stand-in for Erin. She’d rather stop it right now and save herself a boatload of regret.
Tom straightened and gently cupped her cheeks in his palms. “I am not,” he answered. “I see you. I want you. You’re driving me crazy and I don’t know what to do about it.”
A purely feminine thrill rippled along her spine. “I want you, too,” she whispered, shocked to find it was true. Her fingertips played over the sensitive skin of his ribs and down over his hips, then slid beneath the back waistband of his jeans, just an inch or two, but enough to pull him more firmly against her.
“Dammit, Abby.” He let her go and reached behind his head for the neck of his T-shirt, pulling it off in one masculine motion that kicked her libido into overdrive.
Summer hadn’t been kidding. Shirtless, Tom was a fantastic specimen of perfection.
“It’s only fair,” he said, his voice somehow rough and silky at the same time as he reached for the buttons of her top. In no time he had it spread open and pushed it off her shoulders. Self-conscious now, she stood before him in cutoff shorts and a white bra. She was so out of practice. So unsure of what to do, wondering if he expected her to make the next move or if he would just take the lead …
Tom reached for the cotton and Abby held her breath. Slowly he unclasped it, sliding it off her breasts, revealing her to both his eyes and his hands.
He cupped her breast in his hand, their eyes met, and everything changed.
There was an urgency now, a desperation in both of them, as Tom claimed her lips once more in a scorching kiss. As he explored the inside of her mouth with his tongue, his hand, large and deliciously callused, shaped her breast. She had a fleeting attack of nerves before pleasure wiped all coherent thoughts from her head.
Needing to touch him, Abby experimented by rubbing her hand along the ridge of his zipper. He made a sound in her mouth, the vibration rolling through her like a drug.
That sexy sound only increased the urgency of the moment. Would they do it right here? On the hard tile of the kitchen floor? There was no counter, no table, no nothing other than a TV tray and a patio chair for furniture. Tom’s hand slid from her breast to her bottom, pulling her flush against him.
He looked at her again and she reveled in the realization that his eyes were black with desire and hunger and it was all for
her. He swept his arm beneath her legs and lifted her into his embrace. Their abandoned clothing lay on the kitchen floor as he took the stairs to her room.
He put her down on the white duvet and untied his boots, shoving them off his feet and leaving them by the bed.
The first hot contact of his mouth on her breast made her cry out. Her eyelids slammed shut as she arched her shoulders, pressing herself more firmly against his lips. The weight on the mattress changed as he knelt beside her, gently teasing her skin as her heartbeat rocketed through her body, pulsing at sensitive points. His teeth scissored lightly and she gasped, surprised at the pain/pleasure response. But as Tom reached for the button of her shorts, something more crept in, speaking louder than her libido. Doubt. She froze.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, his fingers halting on her zipper.
“Nothing,” she answered back, and he pushed the zipper down. Slid the shorts over her hips until she was clothed only in the plain bikini panties she’d put on after her shower.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, lying propped up on his elbow. He stroked down her arm with a fingertip, then across her belly to the band of her panties. “So goddamned beautiful.”
Oh, God. Her eyelids grew heavy, hypnotized by the soft touch of his hand and huskiness of his voice.
“Abby.”
She opened her eyes.
“We can go as slow as you want,” he said, making her feel all liquidy and jacked up at the same time. “There’s no rush.”
“I don’t … I mean I haven’t…” She tried to focus on what she was saying rather than the feel of his hand as it slid lower. But her body took over and she arched up to meet his touch. “It’s been a while,” she breathed.
Which was the understatement of the year.
“For me, too,” he said. “Do you want me to stop?”
That he would even ask made her want to weep. Where had this tenderness come from? It had stopped being frantic and hot and was quickly becoming something more. Something … important. She shook her head.
Tom slid his fingers to the waistband of her panties and drew them down her legs.
She was completely naked. Shyness overtook her until Tom’s gaze settled on hers. “Slowly,” he said, his voice low with promise. “It’s better slower.”
He stood by the bed and took off his jeans but paused to reach inside his wallet for a condom.
Abby’s misgivings kicked in again. He said they’d go slow but everything seemed to be moving too fast. Looking up at him, she felt a pang in her chest—this man was someone she could really care about. Someone who had the power to ultimately hurt her. She couldn’t do this. She didn’t know how to be easygoing about making love, and what else could this be? No promises or commitments had been made. She braced up on her elbows.
“Stop,” she whispered. “I was wrong. I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. She shouldn’t have let it get this far. She should have known she wasn’t ready. She reached for the blanket at the bottom of the bed and scrambled to cover herself, to feel less naked. It didn’t work. Her body was covered but the rest of her felt horribly transparent.
He tucked the condom back into his wallet. Reached for his jeans and pulled them on, but left them unbuttoned so that the tiny vee of skin below his navel was still visible. It was sexy as hell. She still found him irresistible, she realized. Even though she wasn’t ready, she wished she was.
“I’m sorry, Tom, it’s all…” she started.
His brows pulled down in a dark frown. “Why on earth do you keep apologizing?”
“I just … I led you on, made you think that…”
He cursed and the frown deepened. “Abby, it’s fine. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready,” he said, putting his hands on his hips.
She swallowed, looked up. “I’ll just shut up now.” She didn’t know what else to say. Sex wasn’t something Abby took lightly. Her one and only attempt at a casual relationship in the past had left her feeling unsatisfied and empty. She’d awakened in the morning all alone, like she wasn’t worth staying for. Abby never wanted to feel that way with Tom. The fact that he seemed that important frightened the hell out of her.
He came closer and sat on the bed. Wordlessly he handed her her discarded sleep shirt from the top of her hamper and she pulled it on, feeling only slightly less exposed beneath the flimsy cotton.
He reached out and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. Gently he touched her cheek. “You are amazing and I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t disappointed. I want to make love to you, Abby.”
The delicious heat spread through her limbs again at his words.
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes,” he continued. “I’m not a good man in a lot of ways. But I hope I treat women with respect. I would never force you to do anything you didn’t want. It’s okay if you’re not there yet.”
Women. Whether before Erin or after, he’d been with women. Plural. Of course he had. Chances were he didn’t place the same monumental importance on sex that she did. He wanted to make love to her but had he thought past that part? Of course not. And neither had she. Nothing had changed. She was still only temporarily in Jewell Cove and they both knew it.
But Tom could do this and walk away more easily than she could. She’d be that girl he met one summer. A pleasant memory. It wasn’t like that for her. Sex would always mean something beyond the physical. It had to be about love, not lust. Maybe that made her old-fashioned, but there it was. There was something between her and Tom. It was lust, not love—how could it be? He might be able to walk away in one piece. She wasn’t so confident that she could.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. More sorry than he imagined.
“Don’t be. I would never want you to feel pressured into something you’re not ready for.”
He was killing her with his consideration. “Thanks, Tom.”
“Don’t thank me too much. I could still really use a cold shower.”
Their gazes met and the sheepish smile on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes. They were still edgy and black and exciting.
He got up and grabbed his boots. “Since I’m not going to use your shower, it’s probably a good idea if I get started on the day’s work, if that’s all right with you.”
Feeling awkward, Abby nodded. “Yes, fine. I thought I’d do a little more exploring today, anyway.” That was, after all, the reason she’d come back. She wanted to find out what happened to Edith. Who Kristian was. And most of all, what had happened to drive Marian and Iris apart for the rest of their lives. The answers were in this house somewhere, and she kept letting Tom and his family distract her from that purpose.
“Let me know if you discover any deep, dark secrets,” he teased. “I’ll be in the kitchen. I want it to be completely ready for when the cupboards are delivered.”
When she heard him reach the bottom floor she got up and pulled on her shorts and chose a different shirt from her closet, not wanting to go back downstairs as she was. Her hair had come loose from the band, so she went to the bathroom to fix it. When she caught sight of herself in the mirror she was horrified. Her hair stuck out in frizzy bits and her cheeks were terribly red from the burn. Whatever had prompted Tom’s response this morning, it sure hadn’t been her looks. She was a mess.
Maybe he hadn’t really been seeing her. Maybe he’d been thinking about Erin after all.
Or maybe not. Maybe he hadn’t cared what she looked like. Maybe he was genuinely, sincerely attracted to her.
She touched her fingertips to her sunburned cheek, remembering the gentle way his fingers had caressed her skin. She’d been the one to put on the brakes. Maybe, just maybe, Tom was having as hard a time getting her off his mind as she was with him.
As the sound of his hammer rang through the house, she frowned. The last thing she needed was to get emotionally attached to anything here in Jewell Cove—including Tom Arseneault. Be
cause when push came to shove, in the end she was putting the house up for sale. And she was going to leave and go back to her very safe life and her very safe job. The idea of doing anything else was simply too scary.
CHAPTER 16
I would have made love to her.
The knowledge permeated Tom’s thoughts over and over again. Each time it struck him like a punch to the solar plexus, stealing his breath. If Abby hadn’t put on the brakes he would have kept going, would have felt her soft, hot skin beneath him on the pure white duvet, would have heard her soft moans as he moved inside her.
He’d wanted her that much.
That was a surprise.
An even bigger surprise was realizing that even with the separation of two floors between them, he still did.
The crew showed up with materials, and then Tom sent them out on a rush repair job in town. It left him with too much time to think. As he cut in around the ceiling of the kitchen with his paintbrush, he knew this morning had nothing to do with his feelings for Erin. It had been all Abby. It was her independent streak mixed with her vulnerability, her sharp tongue tempered by sweetness. She wasn’t like any woman he’d ever known. It had been her wide eyes and soft lips and the way her scent curled around him. Finally touching her skin had been like putting a match to paper.
The big question was, what was he going to do about it?
A younger, rasher Tom would have said pursue and not thought twice about it. But there was something about Abby that made him pause and take greater care. It was in her eyes this morning when she’d asked him to stop. When she’d said she couldn’t go through with it. It occurred to him that Abby was probably keeping secrets of her own, and why shouldn’t she? Everyone had a right to their own secrets.
With the edges painted, Tom refilled the paint tray and went to work with the roller, applying the paint in an even white layer over the ceiling. There was also the small matter of Abby’s questions this morning about him and Erin. He’d answered honestly, but there were things she didn’t know. Things that no one knew. When he’d met Erin he’d been a simple carpenter on a crew while she came from old money. The summer they’d met, Tom had fallen hard, and by the time he realized that he was Erin’s chosen form of rebellion against controlling parents, it was too late. He’d already fallen in love with her. And what had started as a way to thumb her nose at her parents had become more for her, too.
