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Following him up the stairs gave her a lovely view of his back—equally as nice as his front—which she’d never really looked at before. She’d felt his thighs under hers last night, felt them squeezing her tonight, so she had an idea what the rest of him was like, and knew she was not going to be disappointed there, either.

Once in Tate’s room, with the bed
right there
, her bravado finally started to falter. Above and beyond anything else she needed to worry about, there was one part of this she hadn’t thought all the way through: she’d slept with only two men in her entire life, and none at all in three years. After the way she’d just thrown herself at him, Tate might be expecting porn-star-level skills.

But then Tate was behind her, his hands on her shoulders, stroking down her arms and across her belly as he kissed the side of her neck. She could feel the heat of his skin against her back, and she leaned into him and quit worrying. Hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her skirt, she slid it over her hips. Shimmying out of her panties, she let both of them drop to the floor.

Tate’s teeth grazed her shoulder and his hand immediately angled south. She grabbed his thighs for support
as her knees went weak and she lost her breath completely.

Mercy.

She had no idea how she ended up in the bed. Her head was still spinning, and she wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t blacked out. The sound of Tate’s shorts hitting the floor only barely registered, as did the shifting of the mattress as he joined her there, rolling her beneath him and settling between her thighs.

But the toe-curling, mind-melting kiss definitely registered, as did the feel of him sliding inside her.
Lord, have mercy.
Tate groaned her name against her hair and she arched against him, gripping his biceps to anchor herself as he braced on his elbows and started to move.

Tate’s eyes never left her face, but her self-conscious embarrassment at that scrutiny quickly evaporated as the pleasure built inside her. She was so close to the edge, and she locked her legs around his waist, wanting him to take her over. His hands fisted in her hair and his forehead dropped to hers as he began to move faster, thrusting into her until she saw stars.

It didn’t take long for the tremors to start, and she held on to him as she shook, only vaguely aware of Tate collapsing on top of her a few moments later.

His heart was slamming against her chest, and she could barely breathe, but the solid weight of him on top of her was incredible. Air didn’t seem to be a good enough reason to move.

But Tate did move, pulling her with him as he rolled, reversing their positions. The cool air felt good against
her sweaty skin, and she lay there, boneless, her legs tangled in his.

The directionless languorous movements of his hands lulled her, keeping her in that dreamy space where she didn’t have to think.

But, of course, it couldn’t last.

“When you said you weren’t ‘there’ yet, but you were ‘here,’ what exactly did you mean?”

She angled her head to look at him. “It’s a little late to be asking that, don’t you think?”

Tate laughed, causing her whole body to shake. “I got the gist of it, I think.”

“True.”

But Tate seemed to want an answer. He was playing with her hair now, pulling the curls out long and letting them spring back into shape. This didn’t exactly seem like the right time for confessions, regardless of what movies might imply about those afterglow moments. She was honest enough to know that it was mostly her own selfishness in not wanting to spoil her mood that held her tongue. She didn’t want to think about it, either, but it was a little late for that now. So how to answer him without lying to him?

You’re lying to him either way,
her conscience reminded her. A lie of omission was still a lie. She couldn’t meet his eyes, so she watched her fingers as they drew circles on his chest.

“It’s complicated,” she finally said. “I’ve got a lot of stuff I still have to work out. A lot of stuff I still need to
figure
out. I’m not sure how long that’s going to take to get there. And until I get there, I can’t offer much to someone else.”

She felt him nod against the top of her head as if he understood.

Ugh.
She was disgusted with herself. That was the most evasive truth ever, and the guilt sat heavy on her
chest. Tate didn’t deserve that kind of weaselly answer, but she was simply too chicken to tell him the full truth. She liked him, but she certainly didn’t like herself much right now.

She’d used him. Oh, he’d been a willing participant, but that didn’t change that fact.

Sitting up, she pushed her hair out of her face and slid to the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry.”

His eyebrows knitted together. “For what?”

“For kissing you last night. For coming here tonight. I should have told you all of that up front.”

Tate rolled to his side, propping his head on his hand.
Why does he have to look all sexy and adorable?
“You did. You told me you weren’t there yet.”

“But—”

In a sneaky fast move, Tate caught her around the waist and pulled her back down onto the bed, easily rolling her underneath him and caging her with his arms. “So we’ll just hang out here, okay?”

It was the smile that accompanied the words that sealed it for her. “Okay.”

Then he kissed her again, and she couldn’t think at all.

It was bliss.

•   •   •

Tate was a little disappointed to wake up and find that Molly was gone, but the light flooding his bedroom told him how late it was, so he couldn’t be all that surprised.

Downstairs, he drank juice straight out of the jug and checked his phone. There were a ton of texts from people wanting to know why he hadn’t shown up for the concert last night, and he laughed. He’d forgotten all about it once Molly had arrived. And while he was a fan and enjoyed a good show as much as the next person, his evening had been far, far better.

But he couldn’t exactly tell his friends what he’d been doing instead, now could he?

He wasn’t entirely sure what Molly had been trying to tell him last night to explain her sudden change of mind, but he knew there was a hell of a lot she
hadn’t
told him, either. Which was fair enough. Everyone had issues and came with baggage.

At the same time, he was selfish enough not to worry too much about it right now. That self-knowledge didn’t exactly paint him in the most flattering light, but he couldn’t be unhappy that Molly had decided to come to him last night, whatever reasons had driven her.

He could hear his neighbors on both sides gearing up for their Memorial Day cookouts. The Ferguson kids were screaming as if they were being murdered, but a glance out the window showed water hoses and squirt guns as the weapons of choice. As he watched, their cat, Sadie, jumped the fence into his yard seeking refuge as a stream of water headed her way.

He had a couple of options for today—invitations to various backyard parties, a gathering down at the Shore. He could—and probably
should
, even though he knew he wouldn’t—put in an appearance at the events at the War Memorial.

But he found himself wondering what Molly had planned for today. Scrolling through the texts on his phone again, he made sure there wasn’t a message from her, and then he checked his e-mail, too. He was acting like a teenager with a crush, but he refused to feel bad about it.

He could just call her and ask, of course.

After a shower, though, he decided to just walk the two blocks to her house and see. It was on his way to Jack’s house anyway, so if she was busy or out, he’d just go on from there and wait for her to call.

While a lot of downtown businesses were closed
today, anything that catered mainly to the tourists would still be open for business, and the beach area would be busy. There was plenty to do for those who wanted to go find it.

But this side of town was almost all locals, and it had a definite lazy feel today. And with the sun shining, it was a perfect day to be outside, maybe find a hammock in the shade and do nothing.

He waved to Mr. Fillory across the street as he climbed the two steps onto Molly’s porch. Before he could knock, though, he heard a loud bang from the back, followed by a loud, colorful curse.

Heading around the side of the house, he could hear muttering. “Molly?”

Hands on her hips, Molly seemed to be yelling at her porch. Wearing a snug blue tank top and cutoffs that were a little too short for his heart health, with her hair pulled back from her face and covered in a blue-and-white bandanna, she looked a little like a modern Rosie the Riveter.

When she saw him, she set the screwdriver she was holding on the step and picked up a water bottle. After a long drink, she gestured to the screen door. It was raw wood, not yet painted to match the rest of the porch, and clearly brand new. “I put the damn thing on backward and upside down.”

She was frowning, so he smothered a laugh. It was crooked, too, but considering her current mood, he felt it was best to not mention that. “Want some help getting it down?”

She sighed. “Please.”

He moved Molly’s step stool aside and unscrewed the hinges from the doorframe.

“I wasn’t trying to sneak out this morning,” she offered matter-of-factly. “I had to come home to feed
Nigel, and you were sleeping so soundly I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Well, I’d had a long night.”

She smiled awkwardly. “I’m not used to sleeping past seven or so. Even if I don’t have to get up to open the shop, Nigel will play alarm clock. And I had a pretty long to-do list waiting for me anyway.”

It was a conversational move back to neutral, less sexual territory.
Okay.
“Isn’t one of the joys of renting that your landlady takes care of stuff like this?”

“The door only broke last week, and since Nigel likes to come out onto the porch—and hang on the door, which is what finally broke it beyond repair—I didn’t want to wait. They told me at the store that this was a very easy job I could do myself, so I thought I’d try.” She rolled her eyes.

“You were close,” he said, trying to be diplomatic. “Here, can you hold it while I screw these in?” It only took a minute and the door was back on. He opened and closed it to test it. “There you go.”

“Thanks. I’ve got a kitty that’s dying to come outside.” She pointed, and he could see Nigel sitting in the window, looking forlorn. “So what brings you by?”

“I came to see you,” he answered honestly.

It wasn’t that confusing a statement, so Molly’s long pause was a little awkward. Finally, she said, “Don’t you have something else to do?”

Well, then.
He’d seriously misread the situation. “Sorry I bothered you. I’ll go.”

“Oh, no,” Molly said quickly. “That came out wrong. I’m just a little surprised that you don’t have other plans already.”

“Oh.” He did not want to admit his relief at her explanation. “I have places I
can
go. I just wanted to see you instead.” Then he realized the flaw in his plan,
the part he’d moved past a bit too quickly. “But you probably have places to go today . . .”

“I actually planned to stay here today, conquer my to-do list.”

“That’s not much of a day off.”

“I don’t get very many.”

“All the more reason to enjoy it.”

“Don’t tempt me, Tate Harris. I’m trying to be good.”

Nothing ventured . . .
He moved to stand in front of her and let his hand rest lightly on her hip. “And here I thought you were pretty damn good already.”

Her cheeks turned slightly pink. “You’re a bad influence.”

“I try.” He let his hand slide up over her waist, her ribs, and her shoulder to trace gently over her collarbone. He’d discovered how sensitive it was last night, and he was rewarded as her nipples hardened against her shirt. She closed her eyes and swayed slightly on her feet, angling her head to the side to let him stroke the soft skin of her neck. “Hanging a door is a big project, and you should reward yourself for the accomplishment.”

The corners of her mouth turned up, but her eyes stayed closed, even as he tugged at the knot securing the bandanna around her head, sending it fluttering to the ground and releasing her curls into his hands. “But you hung the door,” she reminded him.

He kissed her forehead, her temple, the top of her ear. “Then maybe you could reward me,” he whispered.

Her hands landed lightly on his hips, seemingly to steady herself, and he let his lips trail down her neck to her shoulder. Molly’s fingers tightened.

She smelled like oranges with just a faint hint of coffee clinging underneath, and he inhaled deeply,
exhaling over her skin and watching the gooseflesh rise. Molly shivered and leaned into him, pulling his hips toward her as her mouth found his for a long, sweet kiss.

He was the one who ended up breathless, and the want was a real and painful thing. Her hand cupped his cheek, and he turned to kiss the palm.

“I really do have a long to-do list.”

Her thumb was stroking over his lips, forestalling any response he might make.

“But it is my day off, you know.”

He was already boosting her up, cupping her hips with one arm as the other hand reached for the door.

Today was a perfect day to be
indoors
, after all.

Chapter 12

M
olly wasn’t even sure she believed in hell anymore, which was very convenient since she was sitting in a handbasket—metaphorically, at least.

In reality, she was nestled in her bed with Tate’s chest as her pillow. Her head rose and fell gently with each of his slow, even breaths. At least it was a
nice
handbasket.

Poor boy. He certainly earned a nap today
. Hell, she was still all tingly and sated, but there was a weariness underneath. Neither of them had gotten much sleep last night. She’d probably gotten even less than Tate, but that was her own fault, and for much the same reason she couldn’t sleep now. She felt she’d made an important choice yesterday. She’d chosen to be happy. To grab what she could and make the best of it. She’d been making the best of a bad situation for a long time, but this was a different approach. The intent before was merely to survive. This time, she was looking to thrive.