He kissed her until they were both breathless, until his heart was pounding and he was hard as a rock, and only then did he lift his head and look into her green eyes.
“I want you,” he said hoarsely.
She nodded in reply.
He didn’t need any further encouragement. He bent and lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist, came into the house, and pushed the door shut behind him. She kissed him, and he carried her along the corridor to his room, closing that door too.
He lowered her legs to the ground until she stood before him, and pushed her coat off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. She lifted the bottom of his tee and tugged it up his body, and he raised his arms to let her pull it over his head. Kissing her again, he unbuttoned her trousers, and she stepped out of them, tugging off her shoes and socks. She did the same to his jeans, and he slid his boxers down too. He unbuttoned the white shirt she wore and pushed that off, then unclipped her bra at the back and pulled the straps down her arms. Finally, she slid her panties down and stepped out of them, and then they were both naked.
Ginger lifted her arms around his neck and rose on her toes to kiss him, and he lifted her again, then turned, sat on the bed, and lay back, leaving her astride him. She leaned forward and kissed him, and he smoothed his hands down her back, then brushed them up to her breasts, filling his palms with their soft weight.
This is what life is about, he told himself, listening to her sighs as he teased her nipples. He could spend the rest of his life in Blue Penguin Bay, at the bakery, if it meant spending the nights with Ginger, doing this, couldn’t he?
Don’t think about it now. He forced his thoughts away and let his body take over, not bothering to hide his desire for her, and it was only minutes before she was reaching for her purse, taking out a condom, and rolling it on him, and then she moved until she was in the right position, and sank down onto him.
Sam closed his eyes and lifted his arms above his head, letting his whole world center on the sensation of being inside her. She didn’t move for a moment, maybe thinking the same thing, and then she slowly began to rock her hips, forcing him to slide in and out. His lips parted, but no words came out. He exhaled with a long sigh, the tension seeping from his muscles. Avoiding her these past few days had been a mistake. This was the best medicine he could have had, a panacea for every bad thing going on in his life at the moment.
“Ah, Sam,” she whispered, moving slowly. She leaned forward and clasped his hands, pinning them above his head the same way he had hers out on the porch, leaning her weight on him so it gave the impression he was at her mercy. “You drive me crazy, do you know that?”
He opened his eyes and looked up at her, feeling a wave of helplessness. Her breasts moved with her, their rosy tips tempting him to lift and cover them with his mouth; her hair brushed his face, as if stroking him with silky fingers. “I’m sorry,” he said, although he had no idea what he was sorry about.
She kissed him briefly. “Don’t talk. Just feel.”
He closed his eyes again, listening to his body, conscious of the tiny muscles in his abdomen and groin that were tightening, the pleasurable sensations spreading all the way across his stomach and thighs.
“Come for me,” Ginger whispered, leaning forward to nibble his bottom lip. She kissed around to his ear and nipped the lobe.
“Ah.” Desire spiked, and he felt as if his blood had turned to lava, burning through veins. But he didn’t want to come yet. “Ladies first,” he murmured, opening his eyes again.
Ginger shook her head, a wicked smile curving her lips. “Not tonight.”
“You’re not the boss of me,” he informed her.
“Says who?” she said, releasing his hands. Gathering up her hair, she piled it on the top of her head and held it there, continuing to move her hips. Sam stroked up her waist to her breasts and took her nipples in his fingers. He tugged them gently, and she gave a sexy moan, but didn’t stop moving. She looked so sexy, sitting astride him, and he began to feel himself spiral out of control despite his wish to wait.
“You’re going to come,” she instructed, moving faster now, driving him into her soft flesh. “When I tell you, Mr. Stud Muffin. It’s going to start in your groin and spread out to your toes and the roots of your hair, and you’re going to yell out my name, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
His lips curved up, but he couldn’t argue with her. He could feel the climax coming, way off in the distance, like a hunter, stalking him, and he was the prey.
“Come on, Sam.” She cupped her breasts with her hands and rubbed her thumbs over her nipples. “Fucking you like this turns me on so much. I’m so close to coming. Don’t you want to feel me clenching around you? Don’t you want me to come?”
She’d won, and they both knew it. He was helpless when she talked dirty to him. He looked into her eyes, feeling suddenly awash with emotion, but he couldn’t stop the climax, and it crashed into him, incredibly intense. It would have felt like this when the river broke its banks, he thought absently, overwhelming, and he would have been powerless to stop it.
He was partly aware of Ginger coming too, her orgasm only intensifying his own, and the pulses kept on coming. By the time he was done, he was exhausted, and he wasn’t surprised to feel tears on his cheeks.
Chapter Twenty-One
After he’d disposed of the condom, Ginger sank down next to him, rested her cheek on his chest, and let him stroke her hair as their breathing gradually slowed.
Now that the frenzy of their lovemaking had passed, once again she became aware of the quietness of the house, of its still silence. It was all in her head, she knew—whenever she went home, she didn’t put the TV on right away, liking the peace of a quiet room after a busy day. She was just conscious of the quiet here because she was thinking about George’s absence. And yet it felt different. Sad. Heavy. It was as if Sam’s grief had become a palpable thing, hovering over the house like a thick gray cloud.
Hopefully, she’d helped him a little. She turned her head to rest her chin on her hand and looked at him. He had one arm tucked under his head and his eyes were closed, but he opened them now and smiled at her.
“Thank you,” he said. “For dragging me back into the land of the living.”
“Aw. You’re welcome.” She pressed her lips to his skin. “I’m glad you let me in. I’ve been so worried about you.”
He twirled her hair in his fingers. “I just needed a bit of time, that’s all. I’ll get over it.”
“Ah, Sam, you’ve not even buried your father yet, you’re allowed to grieve. I just didn’t like you doing it all alone.” She pushed herself up and pulled the duvet around her shoulders. “I know you’ve been thinking a lot about the bakery, and about what to do. So have I. I thought it might help you to talk about it.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready.”
She tipped her head to the side and nibbled her bottom lip. Should she say anything? She’d thought about nothing else for days. Maybe she should wait until after the funeral, until his head was clear. But she’d had an idea, and she wanted to tell him, because she thought it might help, and she wanted to make him feel better.
“I know you’re not sure what to do about the bakery,” she said. “You miss your job on the ship, and now there’s this whole issue of the rebuilding cost.”
He didn’t say anything. His brown eyes looked almost black in the semi-darkness. He’d looked so gorgeous when he’d opened the door and leaned against the doorjamb. He’d lost a little weight, but it suited him. His brown hair was ruffled, and his face serious for once without its usual boyish, teasing grin. She tended to think of him as a young guy, even though he was older than she was, but tonight he looked like a man, and it gave her the shivers.
“I’ve had an idea,” she said.
He surveyed her for a moment. “Oh?”
“Marry me,” she said.
Sam just blinked a few times. Then he said, “What?”<
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“Marry me,” she repeated, “and I’ll get access to the fifty thousand dollars of my inheritance.” Her father had stipulated that his daughters weren’t to receive the amount until they produced a valid wedding certificate. “You can have it all, Sam. I’ll invest my half in your business.”
His face was completely devoid of expression. “I don’t know what to say.”
Her lips twisted. “You could try thank you.” She’d expected a little more enthusiasm and excitement.
“I appreciate the gesture,” he said. “But it’s nowhere near enough. The bakery’s going to cost a few hundred thousand to rebuild.”
“I know, but it’ll help. The main thing is, I don’t think you should just rebuild it. I think you should make it your own. Sam’s Patisserie. Your pastries and cakes will become famous throughout the Northland.”
He didn’t say anything.
“This is a huge opportunity,” she said earnestly. “To make it into whatever you wanted. Come on, Sam, you don’t want to run a bakery, we both know it, even George knew it. You don’t want to take out a huge loan to rebuild a business that your heart isn’t in. It’ll just make you miserable, and you’ll want to leave. You’ll end up getting someone else to run it while you escape, and...” She bit her lip. “I don’t want you to go.” There. She’d said it.
She’d gone over and over this in her head, and in the rehearsal, he’d smiled at this point and pulled her into his arms while he told her that of course he didn’t want to leave either, and it was a brilliant idea, and he loved her for coming up with it.
The real Sam didn’t do any of those things. He continued to sit, his expressionless features turning hard. “I have to rebuild the bakery,” he said. “It’s my family’s business. It’s been there for two hundred years.”
“I know, but if you rebuild it, it won’t be the same anyway.”
“That’s not the point. It’s the site, it’s tapu.”
She knew that word—it meant sacred. “It’s not a church, Sam,” she said impatiently. “It’s just earth and rock.”
“You don’t understand a thing,” he snapped, making her jump. He turned, swung his legs over the bed, and rose to start pulling on his boxers and jeans. “It’s our turangawaewae, our place to stand. It contains the memories of all my ancestors who have worked there before me. It’s my responsibility to preserve it and respect it. I can’t just sell it and give it away. It doesn’t work like that. Forgive me for not seeing my father’s death as ‘an opportunity’.”
Ginger’s stomach flipped. Jesus, she’d said completely the wrong thing. She hadn’t realized he felt so deeply about the place. She’d known that George saw the bakery almost in a religious light, but she’d thought Sam was humoring him. She hadn’t thought he felt the same way.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, rising too and quickly pulling on her clothes before he could walk away. “I shouldn’t have been so thoughtless.”
He tugged on his T-shirt, and walked past her and down the corridor.
Cursing under her breath, she finished dressing and ran after him. “Sam, wait.”
She found him in the kitchen, retrieving a glass from the cupboard. He took a couple of ice cubes out of the freezer and put them in, then poured a generous slosh of whisky over the top. He didn’t offer her a drink. He turned to her, and his face showed real anger. “I’ve not even buried my father yet, and you’re talking about going against his wishes. It would be the absolute last thing he’d want.”
“Aren’t you allowed a say in your own future? It would be different if you had a sibling who could take over, but you haven’t. It’s not your fault that Ian died, and it’s not fair for you to have to take his place when it doesn’t make you happy.”
“Life’s not all about being happy, Ginger. It’s also about responsibility and duty. Those things might not mean much to you, but they mean a lot to me.”
Ginger bit her tongue. He was upset and overwhelmed by grief, and he wasn’t thinking before he spoke. She should have waited—she knew that now. How stupid she’d been, again. “I was just trying to help,” she said.
“I know.” He blew out a long breath. “And I know that your sister and Mac did the same thing, and they made it work. But they were very lucky. We’ve only been going out for a few weeks.”
“We’ve known each other four months, though,” she pointed out. “I see you almost every day.”
“But marriage is a huge commitment. You’re dedicating the rest of your life to someone. It’s not to be taken lightly.”
“It could be a business arrangement, like Mac and Fred’s was at the beginning.”
“I didn’t agree with what Mac did then, and I don’t agree with it now,” he said, his voice hard. “The fact that it worked out is pure luck. Marriage is sacred, Ginger. It’s a commitment, a promise to love someone for the rest of your life. Treating it as if you’re signing the papers for buying a fucking car is a terrible thing to do.”
Her cheeks grew warm. “I didn’t know you felt like that.”
“No, because we don’t know each other well enough yet. We’ve spent our time together in bed. We’ve hardly talked at all. Two people have to discuss their views on life and make sure they’re compatible before they make a commitment like marriage. We haven’t even said we love each other yet.”
They stared at each other for a long moment.
I love you, she thought. But she didn’t say it, and neither did he.
He was right. Of course he was right. She was treating marriage like any old contract, as if it were a piece of paper she could tear up when she got bored with it. She hadn’t thought it through at all. She’d been caught up in the whirlwind of their relationship, and she’d romanticized it, making it into more than it was. She hardly knew him. Why on earth did she think he’d agree to marrying her? He was a man who valued his freedom. His previous relationship had been an open one. It didn’t say much about his views on commitment. And yet he’d just told her that marriage was sacred.
Ginger felt confused and embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I meant well, but that’s not good enough.”
He gave a heavy sigh and leaned against the wall, tipping his head back. “Don’t throw yourself on your sword. It was a kind gesture, and I appreciate the thought.” He lowered his head to look back at her. “But it’s not right for me. I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re right. I didn’t think it through.” She found her shoes and tugged them on, then pulled on her coat and buttoned it up. “Look, I shouldn’t have come. I’ve only made things worse.”
“No, you haven’t.” He put down his drink, walked up to her, and put his arms around her. “I appreciate you coming, in all senses of the word.”
She gave a short laugh, even as tears filled her eyes, and rested her cheek on his chest. “I’m sorry I upset you.”
“You didn’t honey, not really. I’m all over the place. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can’t see anything clearly at the moment. Maybe after the funeral, things will become clear. I can’t do anything until that’s over.”
“Of course. I should have waited.” She put her hands on his chest and pushed herself back, reached up, and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you at eleven tomorrow.”
Part of her had hoped he would ask her to stay tonight, but he didn’t. She walked down the path, and when she glanced over her shoulder, he’d already shut the door.
She walked back to her car where she’d parked it on the seafront, got in, then sat there listlessly. She’d made a complete hash of the evening. Meaning well wasn’t good enough when she’d upset him so much.
Should she have said she loved him? Somehow, she could only imagine it would have made matters worse. It would have been even more embarrassing if he hadn’t returned the declaration. And anyway, did she love him? Was she really ready to commit herself for life to him?
She leaned her head on the rest and watched the waves rolling
up the beach while she thought about the past few weeks and the time they’d spent together. There was no guide book to follow for love. There was no well-known, established checklist she could tick off to see whether she’d passed the recommended level of emotion to say she was in love. She could only go by her gut feeling.
And her gut feeling told her she was crazy about this guy. Even if she hadn’t technically been with him long enough to love him, she was in love with him, no question. She thought about him all the time. She’d tried to keep him at arm’s length, but it had proved impossible, and once she’d given in, she’d fallen faster than someone jumping out of a plane without a parachute. His carefree manner, his sense of humor, and his wonderful way of loving her so openly had won her over, even though they’d only had a short time together.
He didn’t think they’d been together long enough to be in love, but Ginger wasn’t convinced. She’d looked into his eyes when they were making love, and she knew he had feelings for her. The only question was whether she could get him to remain in Blue Penguin Bay long enough to convince him he felt the same.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The service at the crematorium passed in a blur. To his shock, over one hundred people turned up, a testament to his father’s standing in the community. Sam went into auto-pilot, shaking hands, welcoming friends and extended family, and accepting tearful tributes, but all the while, he felt as if he was somewhere else, watching himself go through the motions.
As the celebrant spoke, his brain kept going over strange things while his body sat, stood, and sang the hymns. What should he do about Piri and Ally while he rebuilt the bakery? He didn’t want them to lose their jobs, but could he afford to continue to pay them? Maybe he should have bought a black suit. He hated wearing black and had chosen navy trousers, a white shirt, and a subdued, dark blue tie, but he could feel his father frowning at him, muttering something about disrespect. He was going to get a dog. It would be company in the house, especially at night. He had an idea for a new type of fruit muffin, but wasn’t sure whether to use apples or blackberries. The thoughts interwove like threads in a knitted sweater, leaving him a little feverish and confused.
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