For the longest time they walked the beach without talking, sand crunching beneath their feet. When Brody couldn’t stand it anymore, he again broke the silence. “Why didn’t you answer my telephone calls or letters?” Not a single one. When Andie left Maine she severed all ties, at least with him.
Something had died inside him the summer she left. A year in pursuit of her failed. Even a visit to Los Angeles to speak with her, ask her to come home, had ended poorly. A business trip had taken her to New Orleans, their paths crossing unnoticed in the LAX airport. After that Brody had joined the Marines. When his tour of duty was up he attempted to call her, facing a clerk insisting that Andie was unavailable. Not contacting her from that point onward had been the hardest thing he had ever done. At times it had nearly killed him.
“Brody, let’s not go there.” Was it anger or annoyance that made her tone tense?
“I think I deserve to know.” His feet slowed, pulling them both to a halt. “Did I do something wrong that night?” The threads of his control were unraveling like a pair of old cutoff jeans. “Tell me, Andie, did you ever love me?”
Dammit. What they’d had been special. How could she walk away? Leave him? Like her grandfather, Brody had been more than willing to help her get through the loss of her parents.
With a sharp tug she jerked her hand out of his. He offered no struggle. Her pale blue eyes appeared black and cold in the twilight.
“Too much pain.” She glanced away, presenting him with her back. A heartbeat of time passed, and then she whispered, “Yes. I did love you.”
An invisible force slammed into his chest. He staggered, fighting to breathe. “Did?”
She hung her head. “Brody, please.” Her hair provided a curtain of defense, blocking her expression.
When he recovered enough to clearly understand the impact of her words, he glared at her back. “Please what?” His fingers curled into fists. “Forget that you left me. You shattered my heart in a million pieces? Threw away our future? Our lives together?” His jaws locked together to fight back saying something he would regret.
Andie spun around. Faced him.
Her silence was a spark to his temper, and red-hot resentment rushed through his veins. He shook with fury, with ten years of unspoken words and unanswered questions. “Or maybe you don’t care to hear how each time I’ve attempted a new relationship, your memory blocked me from taking it to the next level?”
How about that he couldn’t think of another woman? Couldn’t get Andie’s touch, the feel of her body, out of his fucking head?
She had been his first true love. He wanted her to be his last.
Andie started to walk away but he grabbed her arm. “No. Don’t. Please.” Even he heard the desperation in his voice.
A pregnant pause filled the gap between them.
The long, low bellow of a horn and then another announced that several fishing boats had taken to the ocean. In the distance their lights flashed red and white. A flight of seagulls squawked overhead and ocean life began to stir. Several crabs crawled across the sand, making their way toward the water’s edge. The shadow of an alley cat appeared from out of nowhere and the chase was on.
Still the quiet between them remained, until Andie glared at his hand wrapped around her arm. Slowly she raised her gaze to meet his. “Maybe I should leave in the morning.”
Maybe she should. And maybe, just maybe, she should twist the knife already plunged into his heart and get it over with.
But the thought of her walking away, of knowing this would be the last time he would ever see her, nearly undid him. Everything inside him screamed to stop her. He wanted to let her go. Free him from the chains she had wrapped around him since they were children, but he couldn’t. If this would be the only chance he had to make things right with her, he would climb mountains and swim oceans to get her back.
“Andie. Please.”
Were those tears rolling down her cheeks? “Brody, I didn’t come back to hurt you.”
The ironic laugh that pushed unexpectedly from his mouth earned him a frown.
She swiped heatedly at the fallen emotion.
No. She hadn’t come back to hurt him. Andrea Adair came back to haunt him.
“I’ll leave in the morning.” As she pivoted to turn, her heels sank into the sand. She stumbled falling into his arms.
Brody did the only thing he could. He kissed her.
Andrea struggled not to respond, her palms plastered against Brody’s chest in an effort to stop him. But the hot, passionate caress of his unyielding mouth welded to hers overloaded her senses and melted any resistance. With quick, sharp movements, he released his hold around her waist to stab his fingers into her hair and cup the back of her head, deepening the kiss. Their teeth clashed, tongues a whirl of motion, sliding along each other, pushing and shoving and tasting.
She returned his fervor, needing to make at least one memory a reality.
Broken cries seeped between them. At first Andrea thought the wrenching grief belonged to her. Then she realized the strangling sound was coming from Brody. Beneath her touch he trembled, his breaths short and rapid. His hold on her was tight, too tight.
Something was wrong, dreadfully wrong. Another throaty murmur and then Andrea recognized the sound.
Pain. Oh God. His pain. It was so deep, so raw it threatened to eat her alive, consumed her.
Breathless, Andrea tried to pull away, but his fingers closed around her hair. Fear clashed with the sudden sting. “Brody!” When she screamed his name, he released her faster than if she were a hot welding rod.
Taking several hasty steps backward, she stood there staring at him, her heart pounding. The hint of morning peeking over the waves provided just enough light for her to see his eyes were bright and moist, rimmed red with despair. Features so tight they appeared brittle, as if they would shatter like glass at any moment.
Brody hurt. And she had been the catalyst for his suffering.
“Please, And—” Choppy breaths stole her name from his mouth. “Don’t.” The vein down the center of his forehead bulged close to bursting with tension. “I need to touch you.”
His plea made her chest ache. If she had had a heart it would have broken.
“Please, Andie, don’t walk away from me.”
Dammit.
Her chin quivered. His sorrow was too much for her to bear.
Then a single tear rolled down his cheek.
Control slipped through her fingers like running water. She reached for him—a need to end his suffering.
In his haste to close the distance between them, a piece of driftwood tangled in his feet. On his descent, Andrea caught him, but it was too late. Both of them were going down. The impact of the sandy ground jarred her, but it was Brody’s weight landing atop her that forced an unladylike grunt.
Lying beneath him, the hard length of him pressed to her belly, she managed a chuckle. “I don’t remember you being so heavy.”
“Was that a fat joke?” His jest held no humor, but at least he was trying. Still, there was no denying the wariness in his eyes. It left no doubt in her mind he still expected her to refuse him. But Andrea knew something he didn’t.
She wanted him.
Too many memories and lonely nights. No one to hold her when she cried. In the remaining ashes of the night, she would take whatever he offered, because it would have to last her a lifetime.
Disappointment rushed over her when he shifted, rolling off her to lie on his side. Yet when he draped a leg over hers like he had done so many times before, she found herself smiling.
Brushing a few errant strands of hair from her eyes, he leaned down and kissed her, soft and gentle. “I love you, Andie.” His tone was hoarse and filled with emotion.
I love you too perched on the tip of her tongue. Desperately, she wanted to say the words, but held them back. She didn’t deserve him. She didn’t deserve happiness.
He kissed her again, this time trailing his li
ps down her neck. The area just behind her ear was one of her erogenous zones. And Brody knew it, nipping her earlobe before lavishing the sensitive area with his tongue.
Chills raced across her skin. Her breasts grew heavy with need, nipples taut and achy. She angled her head to the side, providing him more access. Praying he wouldn’t stop.
Heat bathed the wetness, as he whispered, “Let me love you.”
The image his words painted in her mind sent a tremor snaking throughout her. Moisture dampened her thighs with the heady thought of him parting them and thrusting hard and fast. Loving her like only he could.
Behind every stubborn man’s downfall (into love) is a determined woman.
Burned
© 2012 Nikki Duncan
Whispering Cove, Book 4
Vic Hayes is content with life in Whispering Cove. She owns a successful salon, has great friends and her perfectly manicured nail is on the pulse of the town’s gossip. For real happiness, she’s only missing one thing—a man. Settling for less than the perfect man, though, isn’t in her nature. He just has to see her as more than his best friend.
Widower Hauk Michaelsen always dreamed of escaping Whispering Cove, until single fatherhood, too young, made it impossible. He enjoys his life as owner of the small town pub. Friends, gossip, and his young daughter keep things jumping. He would do anything for his little girl, but he can’t give her the one thing she desires most—a mother.
When Vic and Hauk are teamed up for a Fall Festival project, sparks ignite suppressed flames. Testing boundaries they’ve never crossed, they find themselves eager to risk more—if Vic can convince Hauk that history won’t be repeated if he takes another chance on love. Warning: Contains hot sex against a fire truck, a sexy firefighter who’s willing to do what it takes, and enough orgasmic explosions to rock your world!
Warning: To all the lonely guys out there: beware best (girl)friends and invites for coffee at the crack of dawn. It’s possibly not your double shot mocha latte she’s looking to wrap her hands or her lips around.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Burned:
Rubbing her chest, wondering at the odd feeling, as if she’d been somehow bruised, Vic turned off the light and headed down the small hall to the living room. Hauk entered as she turned the corner. Tiredness tinted his gaze, but there was a power radiating from him she hadn’t noticed before. A sense of determination.
They both froze. Vic trembled from the nape of her neck to the tips of her fingers. Sophie’s paper drifted to the floor.
His piercing blue eyes snapped to hers. Held.
It was a moment they’d had a few times over the years. The kind of moment that made her wonder if they could be more than friends. The kind that tempted her to step forward and see what it would be like to kiss him. To taste him. It was the kind of moment that haunted her dreams and kept her distancing herself from other men.
Despite the scattered moments, she’d never acted on one. At first because he’d been with Krista. Then he’d been with Jean Marie. He’d needed to heal from the first and deal with the second. By the time he’d gotten past those hurts, he’d just given up on possibilities of more.
He started to speak. Stopped. When he finally did speak, he settled on, “How’s Sophie?”
“Asleep.”
“Is she feeling any better?” Like so many men, he only said what he needed and in few words. Tiredness slowed his tone from its normal steadiness until he sounded brusque.
“Not yet, but with any luck she’ll sleep all night.”
“Unfortunately she’s never been good at staying asleep when she’s sick.”
On top of single-dad duties, he’d been splitting his time between running the bar with a skeleton crew and designing and building a new stage for the festival. She had no doubt he’d pull it all off, but knowing he was in for a long night bugged Vic.
“Would you like me to stay?” Even as she asked, she knew he wouldn’t accept. She stepped forward, feeling suddenly awkward and not liking it. “You don’t have time to join the ranks of the flu-fallen.”
He smiled as she’d hoped, but in spite of his Norwegian ancestry that gifted him with godlike looks, it didn’t brighten his wiped-out gaze. The man was exhausted.
“You should go.” He moved forward but his feet didn’t get a clear signal. He stumbled, whether on the carpet or his own feet she wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. The momentum carried him toward her in three rushed shuffles.
Fearing he would keep going and knock himself out when he fell, Vic hustled to close the distance between them and stopped his plunge with her arms wrapped around his waist. His weight bearing down on her, his hands against her lower back, fully awakened the awareness she’d sensed when he stepped in moments ago.
Sparks ignited beneath her skin, snapping her body into an instant arousal that paled to that in her dreams. Swallowing, she backed a step away and struggled for something safe to say. Something that wouldn’t send Hauk running.
“I’m staying. You’re going to bed.” Shit. Nothing safe about that.
“Okay.” Hauk’s agreement was more an effect of their closeness than real agreement.
It had to be, because he never would have agreed to her staying overnight. He would worry too much that someone in town would catch on, or Sophie would get ideas, or worse, Vic would get ideas. Too late.
Her mind and body, especially her body, went into erotic overdrive when he didn’t back away either. Arousal filled her, lapping through her in curling waves that ebbed and flowed with warmth and wanting. “Hauk?”
“Hmm?” He set his hands on her hips, tugging her back to him.
He’d never touched her as anything other than a friend, and even those casual brushes of skin had been shielded behind propriety. Unsure if it was from a drop in his guard or hers, Vic was acutely aware of Hauk’s body.
Tall. Lean. Warm. Hard… Everywhere.
She was equally aware of her body’s response to him.
Trembly. Wet. Hot.
Oh sweet damn.
“Sean is waiting.”
“What?” she whispered as she raised her head to find Hauk staring down with…was that hunger? Sean was nice, but really not her type. Why bring him up? “Who cares?”
They stood at a boundary they’d never acknowledged, discussed or crossed. A boundary she wanted only to obliterate.
Rising up to her toes, with her body rubbing against his deliciously, she eased closer to his lips. Answering her desire, he held her closer, his head lowering slowly toward her lips.
The kiss was nothing more than a light caress.
They both pulled back. Vic traced a finger along the outline of her lips and hummed. “Do you think…? Would you…”
Hauk leaned in and kissed her. Again it was only a gentle touch. Tentative. Barely there. Lingering a moment longer.
They both pulled back. Again Vic touched her lips and hummed.
“Awful?” he asked.
She shook her head once with her eyes mostly closed. “A little weird.”
“Yeah.” Again he brushed his lips across hers. “But worth repeating.”
“Yeah.” She leaned in and pressed her lips to his.
The next brush was tentative, but long enough. A spark ignited a chain reaction that lit a fuse. With an almost unheard “hmm”, Hauk lifted Vic until she was flush against him and her feet dangled in the air. Lips level without the need to bend or stretch, they explored each other.
Slow sweeps of lips rapidly became rough rushes of tongues. The burning fuse fried Vic’s nerves, leaving only raw sensation and growing heat in its wake. Burying her hands in his blond hair, thrilling at the extra length since he’d missed his last two appointments, she wrapped her legs around his waist.
He was her best friend. She’d always loved him but had never imagined he would show any interest in her. Whatever had changed his mind, she wasn’t arguing.
The move settled her pussy directly against his dick. He wa
s thick and hard. She was wet and swollen. Neither of them could hide their reaction to the other. She loved that he didn’t try. Yet.
“Damn, Vic.” He panted when he eased back.
“Ditto, Hauk.” She only gave him a moment to breathe before reclaiming his mouth.
She tensed the muscles in her thighs for concentrated control and slid her body against his. The line they’d never crossed blurred with each pounding pulse of their hearts, and she didn’t give a damn because nothing would make her regret Hauk’s touch.
Her belly jumped with nervous energy. It was a sensation she’d only felt once, the night she’d decided to give up her virginity—an experience she’d never regretted. Spurred by the memory, by the hope for another amazing memory, Vic tightened her hold on Hauk and kissed a little deeper.
Their tongues shifted from sliding caresses to tangling thrusts. Fluid relaxation whispered through Vic’s muscles, taking them from knots of tension to tendrils of flame. Her arousal was as tangible as Hauk’s lean body as she curled into him. Committed the feel of him against her to memory.
Encouraged by her responses and apparently eager to continue, Hauk carried her to the sofa. He sank. She straddled. He gripped her hips. She stripped off his shirt.
Vic took in Hauk’s work-toned torso and, like a clichéd teen with a crush, licked her lips. She’d seen him without shirts, and loved each treat, but somehow with her palms flattened on his pecs, he seemed bigger than she’d thought. Firmer.
“Vic, are we really going to do this?”
Please, yes. “I’m game if you are.”
She slid her hands down his body while her gaze traveled up. The aggressive arousal dominating his cerulean stare would’ve erased any doubts, if she had any.
His thumbs moved rhythmically over the hem of her shirt. He didn’t break their locked gazes, but neither did he make a move or say anything for long, quivering moments.
Vic rolled her hips again, rubbing against Hauk’s cock. A shaft of fire shot through her core. With a little growl rumbling from deep in his chest, he lifted her shirt. Subtle calluses on strong hands with lithe fingers awakened each patch of skin they stroked. He flicked her nipples. Every touch heightened her sensitivity to his caress. She arched her back, begging for more.
Bold Page 10
