The Winter We Collided: A Small Town Single Dad Romance (Ocean Pines Series Book 2)

by Victoria Denault

  His hands cup my face and he tilts my head up and kisses me again. He’s very aggressive, just like our first kiss, and it’s making me so needy. Suddenly it hits me how long it’s been since I’ve had more than my own hand and vibrator to satisfy me. And then I try not to remember why, pushing Jackson and the crash and everything else out of my head completely.

  I grab his shirt and yank it up. He breaks our kiss long enough to pull it over his head, and my lips are on his chest before it even hits the kitchen floor. He steps right up to me, and with a grunt as I trace his left nipple with my tongue, he pulls me to the edge of the counter. The feeling of his cock, long and hard against me, sends my pulse racing.

  I’m wearing the stupidest flannel pajama set with little ducks wearing scarves peppered all over them. I have no make-up on. My hair is a tangled mess, but I don’t care, and judging by the way his hands are quickly unbuttoning the pajama top, he doesn’t care either. Should I tell him to slow down? Yeah, probably. Will I? Not a chance. I know my hammering heart is not just lust but fear, however it’s mostly lust. Lust I haven’t felt in half a decade and I’m going to let it take over.

  My pajama top is completely undone, and he’s pushing it from my shoulders, his lips moving from my collarbone downward, and now I’m topless on the kitchen counter I installed myself. My tenant’s counter. And my tenant’s lips are on my left nipple and dear God, it’s magical.

  “I wanna strip you bare and bury myself in you over and over,” Logan’s deep, rough voice declares.

  “I’m not going to stop you,” I hear myself say. It’s an out of body experience. I’m floating somewhere now above all this in a state of frenzied bliss as his lips continue to worship my breasts and his rough hands slide under the waistband of my pajama bottoms.

  “Someone should,” he whispers back roughly. It’s true, someone should.

  He bites down on my nipple, and my insides clench as I flush and bite back a moan. No one, literally no one, has ever done that. And I like it. It’s that revelation that has me blurting out hard truths for some reason. “I haven’t had sex since…my husband.”

  “How long has that been?” he asks, moving his mouth back to mine. He kisses me before I can answer so when I confess five years it’s breathy and needy. But it doesn’t make him flinch with shock or dismay. “I haven’t had sex with someone else in almost as long. Fucked around a little with one night stands a couple of times after Bethany and I ended it but it wasn’t my thing, and I wasn’t ready for more. It’s been years for me too, so I’m a live wire right now.”

  “I had…” I can’t say the truth. Not now. When I do bring up the fact that my husband died tragically, it’s not going to be when I’m half naked with his hand slipping into my pajama bottoms. Hell no. “A lot to deal with.”

  “And now?” he says as that hand slips lower. His breathing audibly hitches when he realizes I don’t have underwear on.

  “And now I want you to strip me bare and bury yourself in me over and over.” I repeat his words. Oh my God, who am I? I’ve lost my Type A, overly cautious, shy mind.

  He huffs out a heavy, heated breath, buries his face in my neck and his fingers in my pussy. And that’s it. I’m gone. Trembling on the verge of orgasm just from one touch. I grip his shoulders and my head snaps back as I moan when his thumb glides over my clit and his teeth bite down on my neck.

  Every beat of my heart pumps fire through my veins. I’ve never wanted someone more in my entire life. I’ve never been frantic for release, but I am now. And so is Logan, I can tell by the way he keeps rubbing himself against my thigh. I make quick work of his belt and then his button and fly, and I shove his pants down over his round, hard ass without a second thought. Or a first one. I have no thoughts, just desire clouding everything.

  My hand is in his boxer briefs and wrapped around his long, hard shaft as his thumb keeps circling my clit and he curls his two fingers inside me and I shudder. “Oh God.”

  I’m tilting my pelvis, pushing myself into his hand as best I can from my perch on the countertop. I squeeze and he groans loud and deep and it heightens my desire but also gives me a rush of confidence. I made him sound like that. My touch. Me. I’m desirable, even after everything I’ve been through.

  The lights are off, that’s why. My hateful brain hisses, but I ignore it.

  “Are you feeling okay?” he whispers as his lips graze mine.

  “No. I’ve never been this…” His whole body goes rigid. His hand leaves my body and our eyes connect. I realize he was talking about my head. My concussion. Oh right. “I feel fine that way I’m just…I want you.”

  “I want you too, I just don’t want to make you feel worse,” Logan replies and his voice is deep, heavy with meaning. I know he isn’t just talking about my physical injury. He’s talking about something more. I don’t understand, but he looks almost distraught, and all I want to do is take that away.

  “This is the medicine I need,” I reply. “You. Now.”

  There’s a flicker of hesitation I see in his beautiful, moonlit face and then, without a word, he grabs my face in both hands and ravages me. Kissing me deep and hard until there’s no breath left in my lungs and my heart is hammering so hard it has me shaking. He scoops me up off the counter, and I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist. He steps out of his shoes, pants, and boxer briefs, and carries me, dodging sleeping dogs who are littered all over the living room floor, to the couch and lowers me down.

  As he stands above me, I shimmy out of my pajama bottoms and suddenly we’re both naked. And this is real. I have a moment of panic. He’s too far away. He can see too much of me even in the dark. I sit up and grab his hip, pulling. He reaches for his cock, gives himself a stroke and then climbs on top of me. We’re skin-to-skin everywhere and my panic quells instantly. He’s kissing me now and I’m kissing him back and it’s wild and needy with teeth scraping and tongues battling and our bodies are pushing and rubbing, and I can’t help but spread my legs. His cock grazes my entrance, and I tilt my pelvis, and we both come to a realization at the same second.

  “Do you have a condom?” I ask.

  “Fuck. No.”

  Now our groans have nothing to do with pleasure. “I don’t have any upstairs either.”

  He relaxes on top of me in defeat, and I close my eyes and silently curse the universe for my own stupidity. I was so sure I would never have spontaneous sex – because I never have – that I didn’t think to keep protection in my house. Logan’s breathing is still quick and labored. I then feel his leg move and his hips push and he’s rubbing his still-hard cock against me. “It takes away one option but not all options.”

  He grinds into my thigh. I buck my hips a little. His hand finds its way between my legs and my eyes flicker closed. I want so much more than this, but like I’ve learned repeatedly over the last few years, the universe doesn’t always give you what you want so you have to make the best out of what you get. My hand slips down to find his shaft again. He shifts, lying beside me on the extra deep L-shaped couch. “I’ll give you everything I can.”

  Again, I feel somewhere deep inside, that’s more than just a reference to our current situation. I may be insane thanks to my raging hormones, but everything with Logan feels deeper than it should. And then his fingers curl inside me and his thumb circles my clit, and I forget everything but the sensation of this moment. My hand keeps rolling up and down his length as I spiral into bliss from the work of his hand.

  “Kiss me,” I beg and he does and like desperate teenagers we’re making-out and dry humping and pawing relentlessly at each other. I’d be embarrassed about how quickly I come except that he crosses the finish line seconds after I do. I feel it warm and wet all over my thigh.

  His body and mine relax. Our heavy breathing, and Chewie’s snoring, filling the quiet of the apartment. After a minute, he reaches over my head to the end table where there’s a box of Kleenex and he grabs a couple and gently cleans me up. Then he kisses
me tenderly and reaches up to the back of the couch and pulls down the throw there, covering us. I close my eyes and enjoy the feel of him and cling to the euphoria of the moment so I don’t have to think about the reality of it.

  I don’t know how long we’re lying there, drifting on the edge of sleep, but Stevie lets out a soft growl, which means she needs to pee. I gently slip out from under Logan’s arm with the grace and ease of a drunk koala bear, but I manage to not hit the floor.. I quickly gather my pajamas and outerwear and scoop up Stevie. Then I have to scoop up Boss, who is sleeping pressed up against Chewie’s side on the carpet by the door. I quietly slip out into the night.

  As the cold air shocks me back to reality, I start to panic. Maybe it makes me lame, but this is the craziest thing I’ve ever done. Until now, it was agreeing to leave Hawaii and move to Maine with Jackson, and look how that turned out. I’m a risk-adverse, calculated, thoughtful person because when I’m not, it doesn’t end well. Sleeping with my recovering alcoholic, single dad tenant hours after a first kiss…it’s a recipe for disaster, isn’t it?

  What on earth will we say to each other in the morning? What do we do next? What do I do now? Do I sneak back in there? I am so overwhelmed with not knowing what to do that, when Stevie has done her business, I take both dogs and head back into my own house. And then I lie awake half the night, my head jumping around to all the ways this could have been a terrible mistake while my heart still does back flips every single time I think about Logan.

  I’m a mess.

  14

  Chloe

  The Hawkins Lobster Shack parking lot is brimming over with cars. I almost didn’t find a spot. I pull open the door and the bell above jingles, but I don’t think anyone can hear it over the chatter and clang of dishes and the buzz of conversations. The counter and the bar have almost every stool taken, and there’s only one booth by the plate glass window that’s empty because it has a Reserved sign on it. The first thing I notice is the vast diversity of the clientele. Young families, seniors, college kids—every demographic is represented.

  “Chloe, right?’ Nova calls out from behind the bar. I smile and wave. “Terra said she was meeting with you about a school thing. Is that how you met Logan? Through Terra?”

  I have no idea how I should respond to that, so I skim the truth. “Yeah, I met Logan because of Terra.”

  It’s true because if I hadn’t come here for the interview for the secret project, I wouldn’t have met him. Nova smiles and motions to the booth with the sign. “She reserved the booth over there for you. Have a seat, and I’ll get her.”

  I nod and make my way to the booth. I shrug out of my big coat and remove my scarf, hat, and gloves. I do miss the simplicity of winter in Hawaii. I didn’t have to spend ten minutes layering before going outside. I plop down in the booth just as a server walks over. “Hi there. Nova told me to grab your order. Anything, and it’s on the house. Do you need a menu?”

  “I’ll just take something warm…like a hot chocolate maybe?”

  She smiles brightly. “Mrs. H makes the best hot chocolate, I swear. I even get it in the summer. Delish! Any food with that?”

  “No, but thanks,” I say, and she heads off to get my drink as I scan the busy restaurant again. Everyone is smiling. Everyone. I really think I have to get Terra to invest in a professional photographer to take some shots of this place when it’s busy like this. We could use them on the site. Locals might get a kick out of being featured.

  I notice one of those claw games in the corner by the front that I didn’t notice before. There’s a pre-teen playing it now, his tongue sticking out just a little as his eyes narrow with concentration and he maneuvers the claw. His little brother looks on eagerly. Terra comes out of the back and catches my attention by waving to me. I wave back. She glances over at the machine too and walks over. Leaning down, she whispers something to the kid, and he keeps moving the claw. “Now!” Terra exclaims, and he hits the button and it drops and scoops up a tiny crab-shaped crochet stuffy

  The kids and Terra stand perfectly still in anticipation as the claw precariously lurches its way to the deposit bin. The crab starts to slip. The littles boy gasps. But all is not lost. It hangs on long enough to make it over the bin and when it drops into it, the kids and Terra cheer.

  She’s smiling as she makes her way to me and plops down across from me. “That hunk of junk was my tenth birthday gift. I was obsessed with this game at the arcade in town, so my dad found one online and put it in our basement. Gave me a wooden plug to play with instead of coins so I didn’t bankrupt him and filled it with cheap stuffies,” she says with a grin. “I spent so much time in the basement that first summer that Ma started to worry. She had to put me on play limit like you do now with a kid and an iPad.”

  I laugh at that. “My dad had an old pinball machine in our basement, and I was the same way.”

  “When I was fifteen, and diagnosed with lupus, I suggested we bring it into the restaurant and all the cash we made we could donate to the Lupus Foundation,” Terra explains. “My parents were more than happy to do it. A lot of the local ladies Ma plays bridge with also crochet, so they make the toys pro-bono to fill it.”

  “Oh my God I love this story,” I gush as the server makes her way back with my hot chocolate. “We have to put this on the website.”

  She puts the drink down on the table. It’s almost overflowing with chocolate whipped cream and tiny rainbow marshmallows.

  “They call this the River Special,” she explains. “After their grandkid.”

  Logan’s son, I realize and smile. The server leaves, and I pick up a spoon and notice Terra is staring at me in a weird way. “What?”

  I raise a spoonful of whipped cream and marshmallows to my mouth.

  “We make that whipped cream in-house, with dark chocolate shavings. It’s not some canned crap. It’s my brother Logan’s favorite thing, especially as the filling in a whoopie pie. Just a heads up in case you’re looking for a dessert idea for your next date.”

  The spoon stops mid-air as my eyes meet hers. I know I look guilty, and I start to blush, which makes her cackle with laughter. “I’m sorry, I can’t pretend I don’t know. He told me last night.”

  “He told me he told you,” I say and she waves a hand toward me as she smiles, encouraging me to taste the sugary concoction on my spoon, so I do. It’s delicious. After I swallow, I speak again. “He’s also renting a suite in my house, if we’re going for full disclosure here.”

  Terra nods. “He mentioned that too.”

  “I’m sure I look highly unprofessional dating my tenant and a client’s relative. I swear this wasn’t a plan. In fact, I was purposely trying to keep my distance from him so this wouldn’t happen,” I explain.

  Terra leans on the table and smiles. “As for your morals, don’t worry about that. I personally think it would be crazy to ignore a connection with someone just because they pay you rent. And I know I’m biased, but Logan is a great guy.”

  “I think so too,” I admit and blush like a school girl, which makes Terra grin. I try to hide my face, and she giggles. “Can we talk work again so my face goes back to its proper color?”

  “Sure. Show me what you got,” Terra says.

  For the next twenty minutes, I present my ideas for their app and new website from color schemes to graphics, interface, and page-by-page content. She seems totally into it until we get to the community involvement page and then she shakes her head. “We don’t do stuff like donate to the soup kitchen or give the claw game money to Lupus to get recognition or bring in business.”

  “I know that. But it’s important the world knows that you’re not just from the community, you’re an active part of it,” I tell her. “It’s not bragging, it’s just presenting the facts. In this day and age, being community-minded matters.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Stan’s Seafood has a blurb on their site about how if you buy one of their t-shirts, ten percent o
f the profits goes to save the rain forests,” I tell her because I discovered that in my research. “Think of it this way. It shows what kind of people you are. That’s important to your brand.”

  “Can I say mock it up and I’ll decide later?” Terra says, still uneasy. It might not make business sense, but I love how humble this family is. It’s so sweet.

  “Okay. We can do it that way,” I nod and she signs off on everything else I presented with only small tweaks. “I want to arrange a photographer to come by and get some shots. But the photographer I have in mind is Aspen. She can’t do her detective work full-time right now because of the pregnancy and it’s her new side business – photography. It gives her a way to use all those expensive cameras and lenses she has for the detective business.”

  Terra nods. “I’m cool with that.”

  “I wasn’t sure because I know there’s a history there and it’s a little rocky.”

  Terra smiles. “We’re paving over the drama, or at least trying. I like Aspy.”

  “Me too. She’s a trip but deep down she has a good heart.”

  Terra nods and pulls up the calendar on her phone. “Can I email you with the best times? It has to be when my brother Declan isn’t around. He will start acting like a damn art director or something, and I really don’t want him to know about this until it’s further along.”

  I nod. “Okay. Sure. So if Logan and I hang out again, I can tell him about this project, as it progresses? That’s cool?”

  “Yeah. He’s in the loop. Everyone else thinks you’re a school buddy but I’ll tell them the truth before the shoot.” Terra smiles. “In the meantime, tell Logan whatever you want. He’ll keep it from everyone, and especially Declan. Those two barely speak anyway.”

  Huh. That’s a tidbit he hasn’t mentioned. I slide out of the booth. “I should get home and get cracking on this. Send me the dates that will work for the photos as soon as you can.”

  “Sure thing,” Terra says as she gets up too, and as I put on my coat, I notice someone walking toward our table. I know instantly she’s Terra’s mom. They have the same tiny stature and elfish smile.