Bay Song

by Noelle Adams

  But Holly didn’t want to wait anymore. She needed something that felt real, familiar, like the person she’d been before. She needed Cade.

  His eyes were as fond as they’d always been—that incredible mix of passion, intelligence, and awe—but he didn’t make any move to touch her.

  She wondered why. She hoped it wasn’t a sign that he didn’t want her the way he’d wanted her before.

  She’d been a mystery then. A puzzle to solve. Maybe solving it was more appealing than the solution.

  “Do you think about me differently now?” she asked without second-guessing the question. She’d never learned the prevarications and maneuverings of polite conversation. She hadn’t had nearly enough practice.

  His eyes widened. “What?”

  “Do you think about me differently now? Now that you know the whole story.”

  “Of course not!” His relaxed look had tightened into a frown. “How could you even think that?”

  “I don’t know. I was just wondering. I can understand if it feels weird or it takes you a little time to adjust.”

  “I don’t need any adjustment.” He finally reached over and cupped her cheek with one hand. “You were eighteen. You did the best you could do. Nothing that happened to you or your mother was your fault. You were strong even then.”

  She swallowed over a little swell of emotion. “I don’t know if that’s true.”

  “I know it is true.”

  “Okay. We’ll go with it then.” She tilted up her mouth just a little.

  He smiled back for a moment, before he grew serious again. “Listen to me, Holly. Nothing that happened that night has changed anything for me. Everything I know about you now was true of you then. And I love all of it. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes. I hear you.” She felt better, understood, loved. “And you’re not a little… bored—now that you know the mystery you were always trying to find out.”

  He gasped and straightened up. “Bored? With what?”

  “With me.”

  He rolled his eyes and flopped back to the blanket. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  She giggled. “It happens though. A lot of men love the pursuit but don’t really want a thing once they’ve got it.”

  “Maybe. But that’s not me at all. Aren’t you always saying I don’t enjoy the cusp of things? I love the getting, not the getting there.”

  “Okay.”

  “Why are you asking me all this anyway? Do you really doubt me that much?”

  “No. I don’t doubt you. Not really. It just feels like things have changed for me.”

  “Well, they haven’t changed for me.” He paused, as if he just thought about what she’d said. “Are you saying your feelings have changed?”

  “No! Not about you. My feelings about myself.”

  He let out a huff of air. “Oh. I can see that. But nothing has changed for me, except wanting you to get through this.”

  “I think I’m doing okay.”

  “You are. You really are.”

  If he’d given her exaggerated praise or gushing admiration for her courage and strength, she wouldn’t have believed him. But his blunt, simple words caused a wave of warm pleasure to wash over her.

  “Plus,” she added, pursing up her lips, “you haven’t made a move on me in ages.”

  She felt his body stiffen beside her. “I told you. It’s just weird in my mom’s house.”

  “I get that. I agree. But we’re not in your mom’s house now.”

  He turned his head to look at her, something hot blazing up in his eyes. “I didn’t want to rush you.”

  “I’m not feeling rushed.”

  Without warning, Cade rolled over until he was on top of her, his upper body propped up on his arm. “In that case…” He leaned down to kiss her.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his chest down closer to her, as close as she could get. “I love you, William Cade Chesterton,” she whispered when they finally pulled their lips apart.

  Emotion blazed up in his eyes, mingling with the heat. “Good. I love you too, Holly Chaney.”

  They kissed again, and it was deep this time, their tongues sliding against each other and their bodies rocking together. Holly was damp with the humidity and the arousal that started to grow as the kiss grew in intensity. She could feel him harden against her middle, and she pressed up into him, loving how he felt, what it meant, this sign that he wanted her in the most intimate of ways.

  He pulled off her dress and kissed his way down to her breasts, causing her to moan and then cry out.

  Then she gasped. “Wait!”

  Cade’s body gave a clumsy jerk. “What?” he asked hoarsely, looking up at her face. “You don’t want this after all?”

  “Yes, I want it,” she said, her fingers tangled in his hair. “But we need… protection. We don’t have anything.”

  Cade made a choked sound and ducked his head, and at first she thought it was frustration. But when he looked up, she saw he was laughing. “I’ve got condoms,” he said. “Check the bag.”

  “What?” He’d taken his weight off her, so she sat up, unselfconscious, even though she was naked in the open air. “You brought condoms?”

  “Just in case—with us being away from Mom’s house and everything.”

  She laughed uninhibitedly as she dug in to the bag with their towels, water bottles, and picnic stuff and found the packets he’d slid into an inner pocket. “Thank God you thought ahead.”

  He pulled her into another kiss, and this time they didn’t stop. He took her there on the beach, lying on a blanket together, under the sun and beside the bay. She was eager, almost desperate for him, and she moved frantically beneath him, trying to claim him as much as he was claiming her.

  She was crying out loudly as pleasure broke inside her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist in an automatic instinct. Then he was letting out a helpless exclamation that matched hers, and both of them were panting and shaking as they came down.

  He was kissing her afterward. Murmuring out endearments. Gently stroking her hair. And for the first time since her mother died, she felt like she wasn’t alone.

  She was we again.

  Eighteen

  Three weeks later, the sheriff’s office finally cleared the house and woods on Holly’s property, so she was allowed to go home again.

  Cade had been up in Manhattan and returned the day she was able to move back in. When he called her from the airport, she was cleaning like crazy, scrubbing down every surface that might have been touched.

  It wasn’t surprising, really. Even someone less reclusive and attached to their property than Holly wouldn’t like strangers clomping through it, touching everything with unsympathetic hands.

  He was deeply relieved that she’d finally been able to move back home. She’d gotten quieter and quieter as the days passed, and he knew the forced separation from her home and time spent elsewhere, surrounded by people, were incredibly hard on her.

  He’d hesitated about leaving, but there were things he needed to do in New York, and Holly had insisted she was fine. She’d said she wasn’t a baby, and if he started treating her like one, she was going to tell her deer to trample him senseless as soon as they got back.

  So he’d been in New York for the past three days, and he was glad to come home. Even more glad that he was able to head to Holly’s beach house instead of his mother’s.

  It was almost eleven in the evening, so he assumed Holly would be in bed. She always went to bed early and woke when the sun rose.

  The house was quiet, every surface immaculate. It looked exactly like it had the one time he’d come inside a few weeks ago, all the worn furniture and outdated odds and ends returned to their places.

  Most of the lights were off, except the one in the entryway, which she must have left on for him.

  He walked immediately to the bedroom.

  She stirred in the bed when he opened
the door. “Cade?”

  “Yeah. I finally made it.”

  “Good.” It was dark, but it sounded like she was smiling as she sat up, pushing the covers down as she did. “Are you tired?”

  “Yes.” He was. The past few days hadn’t been easy.

  “Then come to bed.”

  That sounded pretty good to him. He went to the bathroom and changed clothes quickly, leaving his bag against the wall, and then he returned to the bedroom and walked over to the bed.

  She was soft and warm from sleep, and she wrapped her arms around him in a way that made his throat ache.

  He’d never known what it was like to have someone waiting for him at home.

  He liked it. A lot.

  “So everything went all right?” she asked, stroking his bare back in a way that was giving him definite ideas.

  But she evidently wanted to talk first, so he kept control of his hands. “I told you it did.”

  “But you didn’t tell me very much. Was your publisher mad?”

  “I don’t think so. They weren’t exactly happy, but they said they’d look at what I write and see if it’s something they can work with.”

  “What if they can’t?”

  “I told them I’d write another true-crime book and submit it to them next year to fulfill the contract. I’ve actually got an idea about that.”

  He felt her stiffen slightly, although it might have just been in surprise. “You want to write more true crime?”

  “Yes,” he said slowly. “I told you before. I don’t think it’s a bad thing to write.”

  “I know it’s not. I didn’t mean to say it was. You’re just writing these little vignettes now, and I thought…” She shook her head hard. “I’m sorry. Of course you can write what you want.”

  He was relieved she was making an effort to understand and accept since he knew the true crime bothered her, given her own experiences. “Isn’t it possible that writing one of those books is a way of telling the truth about stories that haven’t been heard?”

  She nodded, her hair brushing against his shoulder. “Of course it is. Of course. I’m sorry.” She stretched up to kiss him lightly. “What was the story you were thinking about?”

  “A friend of mine mentioned a triple murder that happened back in the sixties down in Norfolk. A black man was convicted of it, but I guess there are a lot of questions about whether he was really guilty. It hasn’t been picked up on all those television crime documentaries that are so popular, so there hasn’t been much publicity on it since it happened. I thought I’d go check it out.”

  “That’s a little different, isn’t it? I mean, working on something fifty years ago?”

  “Yeah. But I think it will be interesting. I’ll have to make sure there’s enough there for me to work with, but I’m already interested. And crimes in the past might need the truth told as much as the present.”

  “Yes,” she said with another smile. “That’s right. I like that idea.”

  He tightened his arms. “I’m glad.”

  “And you were able to get out of your lease okay?” she asked in a slightly different tone.

  “Yeah. No problems. In fact, they’ve already got it rented out again. I need to get the furniture out by the end of the month.”

  He’d decided to move for a number of reasons, not least of which was Holly. But he’d also had to come to grips with the fact that he might never have another book that was as successful as his first one. His Manhattan lifestyle was incredibly expensive, and he needed to be more careful with the money he did have coming in.

  He said, “Roy said there was an apartment for rent in one of those Victorian houses near the beach. The rent is incredibly cheap—at least it seems that way after New York. I’ll go look at it tomorrow.”

  “You know, your rent would be even cheaper if you just moved in here with me.” There was a lilt in her voice to make it clear she was mostly teasing.

  “I know.” He kissed her hair. “But I don’t want to rush things. For either one of us.”

  She rubbed herself against him, giving his body very wrong ideas about the nature of their conversation. “I know. I’m actually happy to be living alone again, at least for now.”

  “At least for now.”

  “Your mom brought muffins by this afternoon. Cranberry orange. They’re yummy.”

  “I hope you saved some for me.”

  “If you’re lucky, you might get a couple.”

  There were some questions Cade had for her—about what she was thinking for the future, how she was planning to support herself now that the police had come and taken all the money from the trunk of the tree.

  Reporting her mother’s death had meant she could finally legally take possession of the rest of her mother’s assets. They weren’t much, but an insurance policy and an old trust fund had given her enough money to live on for a while since her expenses were almost nothing. She’d have to do something eventually though.

  But he didn’t want to bring a stressful topic up at the moment—not so late, when they were both tired, and there were other things they might do to occupy their time.

  They could talk about Holly’s future tomorrow.

  “If I’m really lucky,” he said, his voice growing thick, “I might get a couple of other things too.”

  She laughed softly and rubbed against him again.

  He kissed her hard and deep.

  After a few minutes of kissing and caressing, he rolled over on his back and pulled her on top of him. She straddled his hips and lowered herself down on his erection, and he gazed up at her in a hot haze of feeling and hunger.

  She was hot and wet and tight around him, and she moved over him eagerly, naturally, with absolutely no self-consciousness or holding back. He raised his hands to cup her breasts, and she arched her back into his touch.

  And the anticipation, the lush building of sensations, was beautiful and powerful as she huffed and rode him harder and harder. She was seeking her release and giving him his at the same time.

  She came before he did, and she kept moving over him, tightening herself around him until he was practically shouting. His vision blurred as he felt the coiled pleasure tighten and then release in a rush of intense feeling.

  When she collapsed on top of him, he held her so tightly he shook with it.

  She was shaking too.

  “I missed you,” she said at last, pulling off him and giving him a soft kiss before she took care of the condom.

  He was so tired and sated now he was already almost asleep. He should do the cleanup, but he didn’t seem to have the energy, so he let her just this one time.

  He did manage to tell her the truth. “I think I was missing you before I ever met you.”

  He didn’t wake up at all during the night. He didn’t even move until Holly got up, pulling away from where she’d been snuggled against him and sitting up on the edge of the bed.

  He blinked a few times and mumbled, “Is it morning?”

  “The sun is about to come up,” she said. “I’m going to take my walk.”

  He didn’t want to get up yet. He didn’t like to wake up at the crack of dawn every day the way she did. He wanted to sleep a couple more hours and then sit and drink about six cups of coffee before he got moving for the day.

  She hadn’t asked him to join her, so he figured it would be okay if he stayed in bed. She wasn’t particularly clingy or sensitive. She wouldn’t be upset if he slept a little longer.

  Then she added, “I hope my fox and deer will still be there.”

  He heard a slight waver in her voice, and he realized that she was going to be crushed if her animals didn’t show up the way they always had before. It was entirely possible that they’d been scared off by all the activity over the past few weeks, and they may have found other places to hang out in the mornings.

  If she was going to be disappointed, he didn’t want her to be alone. So he smothered a groan and made himself sit up.
“Do you want some company?”

  He could see from the slight tension in her face that she was touched that he’d offered. “Only if you feel like it. I’m happy to take my walk alone.”

  “I’ll come with you today.” He grinned at her as he dug around under the covers for the pajama pants he’d discarded when they were having sex. “I don’t think it will be a regular occurrence though.”

  “Who knows? Eventually you might stop being a city boy and want to get up before noon.” She was braiding her hair and grinning at him fondly.

  “I never sleep until noon,” he said with an exaggerated frown. This wasn’t entirely true, and to make sure she didn’t notice that, he made his way to the bathroom.

  He didn’t bother with a shower since he was likely to get dirty on the walk—at least his feet and legs. He pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt from his bag, just in time to see Holly coming out. She was wearing one of the dresses that had belonged to her mother but was frowning down at the cloth.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “It ripped,” she said with a sigh, showing him the torn seam. “I’ve sewn it up about a dozen times, but the fabric is so thin it frays.”

  He hesitated but finally said, “I guess you could buy something new if your old clothes are all falling apart.”

  She flicked her eyes over to him, and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

  Then she sighed and said, “Yeah. I suppose I should. Otherwise, I’ll be half-naked.”

  He found this a very hopeful sign—the fact that she was willing to consider buying something new after all these years, giving up the tattered remnants of her life with her mother.

  “We can go into town later today,” he suggested, trying to sound casual and not as careful as he felt. “If you want to pick a few things up, I mean.” It wasn’t Tuesday. It was Thursday. But her old routine had been blown apart by the past few weeks, so maybe it wouldn’t be a problem.

  She didn’t answer—just stood looking at the tear in her dress.

  “Holly?” he prompted after a minute.

  “Maybe,” she said, hesitating slightly. “I’ll… I’ll try.”