Hideaway Cove (A Windfall Island Novel) (12 page)

“We southern gentlemen have a reputation to uphold,” he said, already whisking off his cashmere sweater, and whatever he’d worn beneath it.

“That’s one fantasy down, thank you.”

“Sugar, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Not true, she mused. Hold Abbot was definitely
something
—tall, lean, beautiful. Irresistible. And all hers, she thought, reaching out to run her fingers over the ridges of muscle along his belly.

He pulled her against him, her back to his front, all that lovely skin and those hard muscles, sliding over her when he wrapped his arms around her and dropped his mouth to her neck.

Surrounded, she thought. Hold’s heat, Hold’s scent, Hold’s strength folding her into a world of pure sensation. She closed her eyes, let her head drop back as his hand came to her breast, making slow circles, touching her just enough to make her nipples harden to aching points and to send need arrowing down to become an even sweeter ache in her center. He bit her lightly on the shoulder, his other hand slipping down across her belly, under her jeans, into her panties. Into her.

She came apart, the climax so strong the muscles in her legs went to rubber. Hold caught her, bore her to the bed. She could feel him removing her shoes, her jeans, her panties, her bra, just the lightest touch of his hands enough to make her tremble with the aftershocks of the orgasm still rippling through her.

And then he was there, hard beside her, hard against her. Hard inside her, one strong, shocking thrust. She drew in a sharp breath, loving the feel of him, stretching her, heating her…

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, barely recognizing the husky, breathless sound of her own voice. When he didn’t move, she did, bucking up, shoving at his shoulders, helpless to tame the need raging through her, flexing its muscles like a caged wildcat suddenly set free.

Hold hooked a hand behind her knee, lifted it along his thigh, and drove deep, over and over. Jessi braced her hands on his shoulders and met him thrust for thrust, the eyes she’d glued to his face going blind as she lost herself, as she flew, as she heard him groan and come with her into the sweet, sharp, ecstasy.

Hold dropped his head to her shoulder, his body still locked so tightly to hers she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began, whether she felt the echo of her own orgasm or the pulsing of his.

Not that it mattered, she thought dreamily, running her hands over him, memorizing, now that she had her faculties back, the feel of his skin—a little rough sometimes, always sleeked over hard muscle.

He shifted, moved away, then got up to go into the bathroom to get rid of the condom she hadn’t even known he’d used.

She missed him instantly but to her great surprise, now that she could think, she wasn’t second-guessing. It had been the right decision, she realized, for her and likely for Benji. How could she give everything she could to those who depended on her if she wasn’t taking everything she needed for herself? Hold had taken, too, but he’d given so much more than mere physical pleasure. Because he’d wanted her.

With the decision made she could indulge herself. And never forget, she cautioned, that whatever Hold gave her didn’t include his heart.

His body and his attention would be enough, she decided. More than enough. She felt so amazing, so…well used that she started to drift off, until Hold came back and tugged at the bedclothes.

“It’s a little chilly.”

“Is it?” Jessi stretched, smiled up at him. “If you come back here we can keep each other warm.”

“The covers would help,” he rumbled, but he sat down on the edge of the bed, running a hand from her shoulder to her knee, setting off little swirls of warmth that spread through her.

He slipped under the blankets, but she didn’t want anything but him against her bare skin, so she took the edge of the covers and threw them off, lifting to her knees beside him.

“You sure?” he said, more for form, she figured, as he was already reaching for her. “It’s been a long time.”

“Then I have a lot of catching up to do, don’t I?”

She rose over him, took him in, and showed him where she wanted to begin.

H
old lay there, wondering how long he’d been sprawled on his back, gasping for breath like a dying man. If his stomach hadn’t growled, long and loud, he could have stayed that way forever, with his hand resting on Jessi’s hip while she breathed just as raggedly beside him.

If she was half as worn out and shaky as he felt, he hated to disturb her. But starvation—now that was serious business, especially if she was going to keep him burning up the calories like she had.

“Jessica,” he said, patting her hip.

She mumbled something and rolled over, snuggling her tight little body against his. Any hunger he felt suddenly had nothing to do with food.

“C’mon,” he said, nudging her again, “get up, sugar.”

“You get up,” she murmured, her breath feathering warm over his skin.

“I may, if you keep that up. And you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said crankily, rolling away from him to sit on the edge of the bed.

“We have lots more nights and days, sugar.”

She twisted around to look at him. “Hold,” she began.

“Don’t overthink it.” He scooted over and wrapped himself around her, afraid she’d put distance between them again, but knowing he had to tell her how he felt. “I won’t sneak around, Jessica, I won’t act like this is something to hide to spare you gossip.”

“To spare Benji gossip,” she said. But she covered his hands with hers. “You’re right, Hold. I don’t want this tarnished, either. Let’s just enjoy every moment.”

Hold agreed with her wholeheartedly. He wasn’t going to let Miriam tarnish the brightness he’d found with Jessi. Wherever the road led, he thought, that was where they’d go. But the knowledge that Jessi wasn’t in any more of a hurry to get to the end of that road helped.

“I’m taking a shower,” she said at length. “There’s room in there for two.”

“I get in the shower with you, I’ll have to carry you around piggyback for the next couple days.”

“Promises, promises,” she said, kissing him lightly before she eased out of his arms.

She slipped out of bed, naked and so at ease Hold would have thought she did this kind of thing all the time if he hadn’t known better. As it was he just enjoyed watching her, even after he realized she’d gathered an armload of clothing to take into the bathroom.

It would only give him the pleasure of peeling her out of them later—or watching her peel herself out, he thought, remembering how it felt to see her slip those bra straps down her shoulders, one at a time. Like a punch to the gut, so seductive and so innocent at the same time, the way she’d left the bra on, left him wondering while lust caught him by the throat, the gut—the balls, he admitted, crossing his arms behind his head and just smiling over it.

He heard the water turn on, heard her groan a little, imagined those muscles she hadn’t used in so long were really appreciating the heat and beat of the spray.

With her out of sight, a dozen thoughts wanted to batter at him: Benji, the search for Eugenia, the truths he hadn’t told Jessi about himself and his family, concern that he seemed to be getting in over his head so quickly and so deeply.

He put the worries and concerns aside and took the advice he’d given Jessi—or, in the words of another Southerner, tomorrow was another day. Fictional or not, Scarlett O’Hara’s personal mantra fit the situation like a glove.

Hold was right, Jessi decided, although she’d never admit it to his face. But she did feel a little sore, and while she intended to be well used again before tomorrow, she wanted to draw it out, savor him and what he brought her. What she brought him, she recalled with a smile. And wasn’t it incredible knowing the man couldn’t keep his hands off her?

All she had to do was meet his eyes and she could see that he wanted her. It sent a punch of lust rushing through her to ache in places that, well, already ached. Incredible, too, that she could want him so desperately when she’d already had him. Twice. And she’d taken him the second time. She’d slipped her body over his, taken him inside her, and pushed him over the edge.

For a woman with a nearly eight-year-old son, it shouldn’t have been such a novelty, but there was so much joy singing through her that she refused to feel self-conscious over her lack of experience. Hold had made no secret of what he’d felt, and what he’d felt, even if it was only physical, was enough.

Especially since it was only physical, she reminded herself, and refused to let even that reality color her mood. She’d be foolish to fall in love with a man who’d arrived on the island with a round-trip ticket, and she’d be damned if she’d be foolish. Not a second time. She pulled on the yoga pants she’d brought into the bathroom with her, topped them with a stretchy tank, then rolled her eyes because she realized she’d dressed for Hold.

At least she wouldn’t be walking back into the room naked, but when she opened the door and his eyes, filled with heat, shifted to her, she began to think naked might have been the way to go. A glance at the clock told her it was barely noon, and then she did feel…decadent, she decided. It would be decadent to spend the day in bed, especially when she had so much to do.

It took a lot of willpower with Hold watching her like a starving man at a smorgasbord, but she dragged herself to her closet and dug out an old, oversized sweatshirt that fell past her hips when she put it on.

Hold climbed out of bed, gloriously naked, and said, “That’s not going to stop me, sugar.”

A hand on the chest did. “I have to walk tomorrow, remember?” she stuttered, because skin to skin with Hold wreaked havoc on her self-control.

He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, lifted her hand and placed a kiss in her cupped palm, a soft, sweet, heavenly kiss. But the devil was still in his eyes. Tempting her.

Digging deep, Jessi stepped back and away. “I left you a towel and washcloth. As for soap and shampoo, I’m afraid I don’t have anything manly in the house. You can use mine or Benji’s.”

“Yours’ll do just fine, sugar.”

His deep, smooth voice, the way he focused so intently on her, made her heart want to flutter. She simply took a long, slow breath, and let it out just as slowly when he’d gone into the bathroom.

“Food,” she muttered firmly when her imagination tried to take her into the shower with him. She sat to pull on a pair of thick socks before she rose again and walked out of her bedroom. She left the bed as it was because she couldn’t take much more temptation, and the twist and tumble of covers would only take her back there, with Hold.

She stepped into the hallway and stopped, her gaze drawn up the stairs to the attic. Maybe it was Hold, allowing herself to face and conquer a fear, that had her considering other challenges she’d been putting off.

By the time Hold had finished his shower she’d set the stage, and when she heard him step out into the hallway she called out, “Up here.”

Hold came up into the attic at the top of the stairs and stopped, stuffing his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. “Interesting place for a picnic,” he said, surveying the fresh fruit, cheese and crackers, and small sandwiches laid out on a throw from the back of the couch.

She patted the floor next to her. “Come on over. I’ll peel you a grape.”

Hold eased onto the throw-covered floor, lounging on his side with his head resting on a crooked elbow. “Why do I feel like there’s a lot of physical activity in my immediate future? And not in a good way.”

“You want me to put my mother to rest, right?”

“No, Jess. I think you should live your life, not hers.”

She nodded, looked around the attic, crowded with boxes and old furniture—the flotsam and jetsam of a house inhabited by several generations of a family. “This is my way of doing that, Hold. I’ve been meaning to clean out this place, put her things away once and for all.”

“Then I’m your man, sugar,” he said.

Jessi bobbled the grapes she’d picked up.

“Food first,” she said, feeling like the worst kind of fool. Hold had used a figure of speech, and so much hope rose in her she all but choked on it.

She handed him the grapes and got to her feet, too wrought suddenly, too afraid he’d see it on her face, in her eyes. He’d back off. She’d have chased him off, she amended.

He wanted to take it a day at a time. Despite her recent attack of happy-ever-after-itis she agreed.

It was just the upheaval in her life, she told herself. With Lance back, Eugenia’s mystery, and her own likely place in it, who wouldn’t want someone to lean on? And Hold—well, he had a nice, sturdy set of shoulders. And maybe he’d offered them, but she’d spent a lot of years relying on herself. It wasn’t a habit she should break now. That didn’t mean she couldn’t grab some happiness while she had the chance.

“Jessica?”

She glanced over, fielded Hold’s beautiful, unconcerned smile, and gave him one back, relieved that he’d missed her upset. “Sorry, I guess I’m still a little anxious about this.”

And a little scattered
, she thought, running her fingers along the dusty top of an old dresser before pulling the top drawer open, finding only more dust and cobwebs.

“Come on over here and have something to eat. You’re going to need your energy, too,” he said, and she could hear the wicked humor in his voice, even if she chose not to look at him.

Hold, clearly not a man to be sidetracked, caught her hand as she wandered by, pulling her down onto his lap. He kissed her sweetly, a kiss tasting of chocolate, as if he wasn’t enough of a temptation.

“You feeling awkward?” he said.

Jessi tensed, then forced herself to relax, to swallow back the instant denial. “I am, a little,” she said instead.

Hold kissed her again, longer, deeper this time, pulling her back to the edge of that blurry line where she let go of thought, of control. Of caution.

She nudged him back. “You keep doing that,” she said, “and I think I’ll be cured.”

“Glad to help, sugar.”

“I hope you can still say that in a few hours.” She climbed out of his lap and this time he rose as well.

“I have to admit I’m a little…”

When he trailed off, Jessi turned to look at him, and saw his eyes focused on an old bed in a far corner of the attic. No doubt it would be full of dust and god knew what else, but she had to admit it looked romantic and inviting in the soft light from the rain-washed gable window.

“Don’t get any ideas,” she said, as much to herself as to Hold.

“Sugar, I’ve had ideas since I laid eyes on you.”

Really good ideas, she’d bet, as she’d already had a demonstration. She only gave him a long, steady look.

Hold sighed. “What do you want me to do?”

Hands on her hips, Jessi did a slow spin. The place had been kept pretty neat for a dumping ground; the house didn’t boast a lot of square footage, despite its three stories. And the family, over the generations, had learned how to make the best of what they had.

“You know,” Hold said, “There are some really beautiful things up here. Besides you.”

Because she felt the heat rising to her cheeks, Jessi turned away.

Hold turned her back. “It’s a pure shame a girl as pretty as you isn’t used getting compliments.”

“Hold,” she said softly.

“Jessica,” he said, leaning in.

She placed her hand on his chest, felt his heart beating hard under her palm. And with hers beating just as hard, she didn’t even dare kiss him.

Hold covered her hand with his, dropped a kiss on her forehead, then stepped back and pushed up his sleeves.

“So, where do we start?”

Jessi indicated the boxes taking up most of the center of the room. “After my mom…I just boxed her things up.” Because going through them would have been impossible so soon after losing her. Throwing out or giving away would still hurt, but maybe, she thought, enough time had passed so her heart wouldn’t break. “Some of it I’ll want to keep, but I’ll need to find a place to put it.”

Hold started shifting boxes. “Some of this furniture should be cleaned and used. Or you could have a hell of a garage sale.”

“Meeker would love that. He’s been trying to get in here for years, but my Mom would never part with anything.” Jessi picked her way to an old sea chest. “Maybe I can clean this out and use it for my mother’s things,” she said, sinking down to sit on the floor with a sigh.

Likely every preceding generation had said and done the same, she mused, clearing out the old to make way for the new. It made her sad to think about what might be lost, but her New England forebears would frown on accumulation for sentiment’s sake.

She opened the trunk and found it filled with old clothes, carefully folded and layered with what must have been cedar chips, although they’d long since lost most of their scent.

“This old dresser you were poking at earlier seems to be mostly empty already,” Hold said from the other side of the attic.

“Yeah,” Jessi said absently, tickled to discover a few odds and ends from her own childhood that her mother must have packed away. A little poignant, maybe, but nothing Jessi couldn’t part with.

She grabbed one of the garbage bags she’d brought up with their meal and began to stuff it with clothes as she pulled them out of the trunk.

It took forever, or at least it felt like it, before she pulled out the last item, wrapped in protective paper and tied with a faded paisley ribbon. Somebody had taken some time, some care, she realized, pulling back a corner of the flowered paper to reveal a baby blanket, pink and soft when she ran her hand over it.

It made her sad, knowing Benji would probably be an only child. She’d always wanted a daughter, but she’d have taken either variety gladly, she thought wistfully, rubbing the blanket against her cheek and remembering that baby smell, powder and formula, the first smile, first word, first step. The first hug, those thin little arms clinging to her neck.

And dwelling on it only hurt her more.

She began to smooth the paper back into place, stopped when she spied a deeper pink. She eased the paper back and froze, just her eyes shooting to Hold where he was investigating boxes at the far end of the attic.