by Tess Summers
It fucking glistened.
Would he think she was a total pervert if she jumped his clammy body right there on the patio? Because she should not be attracted to him looking like that–and yet she was. She really, really was.
Ron smiled at her as he stood on the wet sand, peeling his shirt off and toeing out of his shoes. He jerked his head toward the ocean with raised eyebrows, as if asking her to join him. She was still panty-less in her chemise, not to mention the ocean was freezing this time of year, so she just shook her head no and grinned when he shrugged his shoulders at her, like it was her loss, then ran and dove in the water.
He came out of the water looking like a god. She couldn’t look away from his swagger as he slicked his wet hair back and walked against the waves towards the beach.
Oh Brenna, this is bad.
Zona had found one of her toys and bound into the surf to show her new best friend her prize. He rubbed her face when she dropped the red ball at his feet, then he picked it up and threw it into the waves for her to fetch. He didn’t realize that Brenna’s dog would be relentless now while trying to get him to throw the ball, because he laughed and tossed it again when she dropped it on his shirt and shoes he was picking up off the sand. Zona got him to throw it three more times before he made it back to the house.
He immediately came to where Brenna was seated on the patio and leaned down, putting his arms on both sides of her chair before kissing her on the mouth, making her lady parts tingle. He was dripping wet and shirtless, which only exacerbated the tingling.
“Hi darlin’,” he said in his sexy drawl with his lips still only inches away from hers.
She felt giddy.
Giddy.
Yeah, Brenna, this is very, very bad.
“How was your run?”
“Terrific.”
He kissed her again, then stood up and grabbed one of the beach towels she kept on the outdoor shelves to dry off.
“I could get used to running on the beach every morning.”
I could get used to watching you every morning.
Zona, who had dropped the ball at his feet minutes ago, impatiently nudged the back of his knee with her muzzle. He picked it up and told the pup, “Last time,” before making a long throw with it.
“I’m going to go hop in the shower,” then turned to head in the house with a wink. “I’ll leave the door unlocked,” then disappeared inside.
“I’m not joining you!” Brenna called after him.
Ron reappeared at the door with a hurt look.
“Wh-at? Why?”
She stood up and walked over to where he was standing. Kissing him as she slipped her arm around his neck, she said with mock sternness, “Because if I join you, it will be another two hours before we eat, and I’m starving. I’m going to make us a late breakfast.”
She kissed him again then smiled. “It should be ready by the time you come back down.”
He pulled her chemise up and squeezed her bare ass, snarling, “I’d rather have you for breakfast.”
Zona came springing back with her ball, and Ron reached down to pick it up, one hand still on Brenna’s naked bottom. He threw it, telling the dog once again, “Last time.”
Brenna smirked. “You already told her that.”
Grabbing a handful of flesh from her butt, he said through clenched teeth, “Don’t judge me,” then kissed her hard on the mouth before continuing, “I can’t ever tell a beautiful woman no.”
And just like that, the wind was knocked out of her sails. She’d found out what was wrong with him and suddenly didn’t want him touching her anymore. She’d already been with a man who couldn’t tell a beautiful woman no. It didn’t matter that Ron was teasing about a dog. It wasn’t funny.
“You sure you can’t join me?” he asked with a smirk.
She pushed him away and grumbled, “Positive,” as she sulked past him.
****
Ron
From upstairs, Ron heard Brenna loudly taking pots and pans out of the cupboard and banging them down on the counter.
What the fuck just happened?
One minute he had that gorgeous ass in his hands and was kissing her, the next she was pissed off and storming by him. He wracked his brain in the shower trying to figure it out, replaying what transpired right before she was mad.
He didn’t have a clue.
Clad only in a pair of Levis, he went back downstairs. Her mood was still surly as she motioned for him to sit down at the kitchen island, and he ran his fingers through his wet hair in frustration. Even Zona seemed to have made herself scarce.
At least she wasn’t one of those, ‘everything’s fine’ types.
She clanked his plate down in front of him. Burnt sausage and toast with runny eggs. The look she gave dared him to comment about it, then she poured herself a bowl of granola cereal. Instead of milk, she used yogurt and sliced up a banana to put on top. He’d rather have what she was having.
They ate in silence until he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Can we rewind about thirty minutes so I can figure out what the hell I did wrong?”
You could have knocked him over with a feather when she told him. He thought for sure he’d have to play the pry it out of her game.
“I’m being completely irrational and I’m ashamed of myself because of it, but I’m sorry–I didn’t like hearing you say that you can’t ever tell a beautiful woman no. I was married for sixteen years to someone who couldn’t tell any woman no.”
Oh fuck.
Okay, yeah on the surface, she was right–she was being irrational, however, he understood why. But, he wasn’t like her dead husband and the comparison was a little insulting, because frankly, the only beautiful woman he wouldn’t be able to tell no was standing right in from of him with a bruised face and tears in her eyes. The bruise reminded him she hadn’t exactly had the best luck with men.
He touched her hand and she jerked it away from him.
“Brenna, look at me.”
When she wouldn’t, he tried tilting her chin toward him. She still wouldn’t make eye contact with him.
She was fucking stubborn. And gorgeous.
He tried another tack. Standing up and wrapping his arms around her waist, he pressed his forehead against hers.
“Brenna,” he uttered in a low voice. “Look at me.”
This time she did, just as a tear spilled out onto her cheek. Then another. And another.
He put his hands around her face–careful of her bruise, and looked into her eyes.
“I’m not Danny.”
She glanced away again, and he leaned his head over in front of where she was looking, so she had no choice but to return his gaze as he continued.
“I’m not Danny. There are only two females I couldn’t say no to–and they both happen to live in this house.”
Her tears continued to fall and it seemed like an eternity before she whispered, “I know you’re not Danny. I’m sorry,” then choked back a sob. “I’m so embarrassed for getting this upset over something so stupid.”
A gorgeous woman, with a bruise on her face, that he’d made love to repeatedly over the last few days was standing before him crying because she was embarrassed for getting upset with him. Braless, in a chemise that barely covered her naked ass, no less. What the hell was he supposed to do now?
Kiss her, of course.
So he did. Thoroughly. Trying to leave her with no doubt about how he felt about her.
Shit.
How did he feel about her?
As his tongue sought hers out, he conceded.
He fucking adored her.
Chapter Sixteen
Brenna
Brenna couldn’t believe she hadn’t scared Ron away with her little tantrum this morning. Sometime while she was in the middle of cooking breakfast, she knew how ridiculous she was behaving and was embarrassed. Then she didn’t know how to fix it, so she acted even more like a petulant child.
&nb
sp; But instead of getting mad, Ron kissed her.
And kissed her.
And kissed her.
Still ashamed of herself, Brenna broke the kiss and walked over to the refrigerator–for what, she had no idea, she just needed to distance herself from him. As she went to open the door, Ron’s arms came around both sides of her with his palms flat against it, her body caught between his muscular frame and the cold stainless steel.
She felt his bare chest against her back and his warm breath on her neck.
“I wasn’t done with you,” he growled in her ear.
She closed her eyes when he grabbed both her tits in his hands and pulled her into him so her body was molded to his. Kissing her neck while kneading her breasts, he began grinding his hips against her ass.
His cock was hard under his jeans, and she wanted nothing more than to set it free. When she tried to turn so she could unbutton his Levi’s, Ron tightened his grip on her tits.
“Stay still,” he whispered against her cheek.
He tugged on her nipples over her chemise before releasing her breasts from his firm hold. She gasped when he clutched her under her jaw with one hand, but did as he told her and didn’t move.
“Good girl,” he whispered in her ear, then slipped his other arm around her body and pulled her nightie up around her waist.
Why the fuck did she like it when he told her she was a good girl?
He slid his hand up and down her slit, and she couldn’t believe how wet she already was. He explored her folds with authority before gruffly plunging two fingers into her wet pussy, still rubbing his denim against her backside.
She tried, really–at least for a second–not to respond, but she couldn’t help moaning while pushing back against him as his fingers deftly worked at a furious pace between her legs.
In and out, over and over, hard and deep inside her.
Maybe it was the angle and swiftness of his hand inside her pussy, or his commanding grip under her jaw, or her emotional state of mind–whatever it was, in minutes she felt her impending orgasm creep up from her toes. Her breathing coming in short gasps.
He pressed his palm down hard on her clit and that was all it took to send her shuddering. He released his grip from her jaw, and wrapped his now-free arm around her waist in a bear hug, bending his body with hers as she writhed in ecstasy, his fingers continuing to thrust into her dripping pussy until she pushed his hand away.
The next sound she heard was his zipper, followed by his jeans being pushed down. He spun her around, grabbing her under her bare bottom and lifting her body. She wrapped her legs around him, and she felt the smooth refrigerator door against her back while he pushed his cock into her. Her mouth was agape watching his face as he began to fuck her hard.
Hard.
Her tits bounced with every thrust, the sound of his balls slapping her ass rang out in the kitchen.
She loved how deep he was ramming her, and wondered how long he could go in that position. Surprisingly, it took a while before he spun them around and deposited her on the nearest counter surface.
He continued his deep strokes, but now they were longer and slower. Cupping her face in his hand and bringing his lips to hers, he continued to plunge into her. His tongue explored her mouth, and he groaned when she lifted her legs higher for him. He held her under her knees and increased his speed. Brenna was looking him in his eyes just before he climaxed and closed his, holding her hips tight against him.
His breathing stilled and he lifted her off the counter, still inside her, and dropped down in a table chair with Brenna straddling him. He continued kissing her like he had after she apologized with his hands gently stroking her back.
If this was his version of makeup sex, she was going to pick a fight every day.
Chapter Seventeen
Ron
“Can we order takeout later for lunch?”
Ron grinned at her when she walked back in the kitchen after her shower.
“I really can cook, ya know,” was her offended reply.
Ron arched his eyebrows but didn’t say anything else.
“Who do you think made those cookies you’ve been munching on for the past few days?”
That prompted him to grab another from the plate on the counter and take a bite.
He turned the football shaped cookie over, examining it.
“You made these?” he said after he swallowed his bite. “They’re delicious!”
“I know my way around a kitchen. I was just having an off morning.”
Her evil smile let him know his breakfast was no accident.
He smirked. Note to self, no fighting before meals. At least not if she’s preparing it.
Actually, he didn’t consider today a fight as much as a need for reassurance on her part. What kind of a dick was her husband that made her that insecure?
Jerking his head toward the door, he asked, “Feel like a walk on the beach?”
“I’d love to. Let me grab a sweater.”
While Brenna went upstairs to her closet, Ron whistled for Zona, and when the dog heard the patio door open, she came sliding around the corner. It was hard for her to get traction on the wood floors, and she reminded him of Scooby-Doo.
“Come on, girl!” he called, and she bound out the door past him onto the patio.
While they waited for Brenna, he kneeled down to scratch the dog behind her ears and told her she got him in trouble earlier.
“So last time really means last time, from now on.”
“Aw, don’t do that because of me,” Brenna said standing in the doorway.
Ron smiled and stood up. “Ready?”
Brenna slipped her arm through his. “Ready.”
He kissed her hair. “There’s a lot I would do because of you.”
With her head on his shoulder, she hugged his bicep with both arms, and they made their way to the sand.
“Have I told you today how beautiful you are?”
She touched her face at her bruise and snorted, “Oh yeah, gorgeous.”
“You are. Both inside and out.”
He meant it. Even with her discolored face, she was stunning. He was loving his time with her. She was smart and witty, but the more he got to know her, the more he sensed an air of sadness about her.
“So, are you working on a screenplay now?”
She gave a fake smile when she shook her head. “I’ve had writer’s block.”
He nodded in understanding until she added, “For about eleven years now.”
“Eleven years is a long time.”
“Yeah,” she said wistfully. “I lost my mojo somewhere along the way.”
Kissing her hand, he smiled. “Well, I hope you find it again soon.”
He couldn’t quite read her look when she answered, “You never know, stranger things have happened. Sometimes it hides in plain sight, and you just need to look at things differently to rediscover it.”
They strolled farther along the sand, and she picked up sea glass while they walked and chatted.
Storm clouds started to move in so they turned around, making it back just as the first raindrops hit the ground.
It must have been serendipity that they decided to spend the rest of the day snuggled up on the couch watching movies with wine and snacks. Ron was flipping through the movie channels when a film popped up that he was familiar with, so he paused and asked, “Do you want to watch this one?”
Brenna gave him a sideways glance like he was teasing her.
“You want to watch this one?”
He didn’t understand why she didn’t believe him. “Well, yeah. I know it’s old, but it’s kind of a classic.”
She tilted her head at him. “A classic, huh?”
“Why don’t you like it?”
“Oh, I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I love it. I’m just surprised you do.”
Ron still felt like he was missing something. “Why does that surprise you?”
She laughed. “
Because I wrote it.”
“You wrote Blue Oasis?”
She seemed embarrassed at his reaction and just nodded.
“Do you know how many times in my life I’ve quoted scenes from that movie?”
“Probably a few,” she acknowledged.
“Brenna, I’ve literally been saying things for years that you wrote. That blows my mind.”
She chuckled. “So do you want to still watch it?”
“Hell yes, I do!”
Watching the movie was bizarre now. He’d had to have seen it at least a dozen times, but this time, sitting next to her–knowing that she was responsible for the story and the dialogue, made it so much different. He tried to imagine what was happening in her life when she wrote the story; what made her create certain scenes? What inspired her?
He stopped her when she tried to turn it off before he saw her name in the credits. When it appeared, he couldn’t stop smiling at her.
My breathtaking Brenna is brilliant.
Say that five times fast.
“I’m just awestruck. What else have you written?”
She cast a thoughtful glance upwards and breathed a heavy sigh. “Well, let’s see. Warning Track, and–”
His voice went up an octave. “You wrote Warning Track?”
Nodding her head slowing while biting her bottom lip, she replied, “I did. It was my first story ever picked up by a studio. I met Danny when I was doing the research for it.”
He’d been curious about how they met, but hadn’t felt it was an appropriate question to ask yet. He also realized that he was probably wrong in assuming that she needed Danny to make sure she was taken care of financially. She probably was doing just fine on her own.
“How long were you together?”
He hoped it was okay to be talking about her deceased husband, but since she brought him up, Ron thought it was safe.
“Technically, seventeen years total. Sixteen married and we dated for a year before we got married. I should have left after nine.”
That made him sad, thinking of her unhappy for eight years. He gathered from her outburst earlier that Danny hadn’t been faithful. Why had she stayed with him?
