Seaside Hearts (Love in Bloom: Seaside Summers, Book 2) Contemporary Romance (12 page)

“Rock girl?” He tucked her hair behind her ear.

She flushed at the intimate gesture. “Yes, and a marshmallow girl.”

Pete noticed an elderly couple struggling to carry their chairs. “I’m sorry, babe. But I’ll be right back. I just want to help them.” He nodded in the couple’s direction.

Jenna pressed her palm to his abs. “Go. I’m fine.”

Pete helped the couple carry their chairs down to the water and turned back, watching Jenna load a stick with marshmallows as she talked to a group of people around the bonfire. Pete’s heart swelled, knowing that as badly as he’d wanted to be closer to her this summer, he finally could—even if it would be hindered by his father. He wondered again how he could have overlooked their connection for so long.

Pete had spent last night thinking of all the things he’d learned about Jenna over the years. Jenna was spontaneous, and despite her shyness around him before their kiss, she was one of the funniest women he knew. She wasn’t high maintenance, craving glamour and glitz. Jenna wore colorful plastic rings and bracelets like they were diamonds, and she pulled them off like no one else ever could. She loved to laugh, and she seemed to like any type of music that she could dance to. And, of course, she loved the beach. He’d noticed that she also enjoyed being around people. As much as he wanted to keep Jenna all to himself tonight, there would be plenty of time for that. It was more important that she feel comfortable on their first date, and by the looks of her, smiling and chatting away, her hips swaying side to side to the beat of the music, it appeared she was very comfortable.

“Petey!” Jenna wiggled her insanely sexy hips from side to side in a little dance that he was sure was meant to look more cute than sexy by the way she was beckoning him over with her hand, but it captured the attention of every man who had come to the beach jam tonight.

Petey?
He hadn’t been called that since he was a kid. Hearing the nickname brought back happy memories of his mother, which brought his mind to his father’s recent issues. Pete drew in a deep breath and forced those thoughts aside. This was his night with Jenna, and hopefully it would remain that way.

Pete had walked away for only a minute, maybe two, and Jenna had already corralled an entire group of couples around her.

“Pete, this is Chuck and Kerri, Wendy, Bob, Butch, and Lisa. This is Pete.” She wrapped a hand around his forearm.

Pete loved her possessive move. He and the others exchanged hellos, and as the other couples began settling their marshmallows over the fire, Jenna thrust an empty stick toward him.

“Roast marshmallows with me?”

The band played another calypso song, and Jenna swayed to the music again. Pete forced himself to focus on her question rather than the urge to pull her hot little body against him.

“I don’t eat them, but I’ll cook them for you.” There weren’t many sweets Pete enjoyed besides chocolate.
And Jenna
.

Jenna grabbed his shirt and pulled him down so they were eye to eye. “Are you sick? Should we go to the doctor?”

He laughed with a shrug. “I’m not a big sweets guy.”

She released his shirt. “Marshmallows aren’t really sweets. They’re…”

He arched a brow.

“Marshmallows.” She wiggled her butt again. When he reached for the stick with the marshmallows on it, she pulled it out of reach. “You can’t cook mine.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m really picky, and you’ll take me home and never ask me out again.” She looked up through her thick lashes with serious eyes.

“Aw, come on. You can’t be that picky.” He reached for the stick again, and she let him take it.

“Okay, but I warned you.”

He knelt by the fire’s edge and reached for her hand, bringing her down beside him. “How do you like it?”

She looked so damn cute, elbows on knees as she crouched on her heels, eyeing the marshmallows. “Golden brown. Not golden. Not brown. Golden brown.”

Pete thought of her rock collection, her spotless cottage, and the way her closet was organized—by color, style, and length of the outfits.

Oh shit.

Golden brown
.

The marshmallow caught fire and he blew it out before it charred. “Good?”

Jenna shook her head and stuck out a pouty lip. “Too dark. Here, let me show you.” She reached for the stick and he held tight.

“Golden brown. I’ve got it.” He tossed the marshmallow into the fire and loaded up the stick again.

“Not golden, not brown. Golden brown,” she reminded him.

He held the stick over the fire, turning it slowly until the edges were brown and slightly bubbled, and then he offered it to Jenna. “Golden brown.”

She inspected the marshmallow and shook her head. “See the white on the ends?”

“No one gets the ends, it’s all about the middle.” His competitive nature was kicking in.
The ends?
How the hell was he supposed to roast the ends and not burn the rest?

She smiled and settled a hand on his thigh. “You sure you don’t want me to do it?”

If he could practically build a boat from scratch, he could damn well roast a fucking marshmallow. He’d get this right if it killed him.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He leaned in and stole a kiss.

When their lips parted, her eyes remained closed. “Mm. If only you could cook marshmallows like you kiss.”

She opened her eyes, and he teasingly narrowed his and glared at her.

“I warned you that it wasn’t easy to cook a marshmallow for me. Golden brown is not as easy as it sounds.” She traced the seam of his jeans along his thigh.

“I have a feeling nothing with you is easy.” He smiled to let her know he was only kidding.
Sort of
.

He cooked three more not-good-enough marshmallows as Jenna danced around him, calling out instructions:
Turn it before you burn it! Yes, perfect! Turn it again! Oh no, too dark.
Each time her smile faded anew; then her excitement would reappear as he loaded the next marshmallow on the stick. The other couples had long since finished roasting marshmallows and were standing among the crowd by the band.

Jenna planted her chin in her palms. “It’s okay, Petey. Some people are made for kissing instead of cooking marshmallows.”

“I’m made for both,” he practically growled. He set to work on another marshmallow.

Jenna crouched beside him again and began spouting off instructions. He silenced her with another glare, cooked the damn marshmallow, then turned the stick toward her for inspection.

“Princess, your marshmallow has arrived. Not golden. Not brown. Golden-brown perfection.” After so many imperfect marshmallows, his nerves were strung so tight they twitched. He tried not to let on and forced a smile as Jenna set her mouth in a serious line and craned her neck, inspecting every ripple of the damn marshmallow.

Her eyes widened and her lips curved into a smile as she pulled the marshmallow from the stick with two fingers. “You did it! You can roast marshmallows as good as you can kiss.”

She popped the warm, sticky marshmallow into her mouth. Her excitement was worth every ounce of Pete’s agitation, which was dissipating quickly as he watched her luscious lips moving. Her eyes closed, and she moaned, as if the marshmallow was orgasmic. He couldn’t wait a second longer. He pulled her onto his lap and sealed his mouth over hers. The sticky sweetness slid over their tongues, dissolving with the heat of their kiss.

“I told you I’m picky.” She was still sitting on his lap, and he was already hard, and in no hurry for her to move.

“And I told you I could cook the damn thing.” He brushed her hair from her shoulder and cupped her cheek. “You, my sweet marshmallow princess, are picky as hell.”

She lowered her eyes and wrinkled her brow. “Does that mean you won’t cook marshmallows for me anymore?”

He lifted her chin. “No. It means I’ve memorized exactly what it takes to satisfy you. Sixty-seven seconds on each side, held about five inches from the fire, then twenty seconds with the tip of the marshmallow aimed directly at the flames, but a few inches away so it doesn’t burn.”

“That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard anyone say.”

She leaned in for another kiss, and Pete deepened it as she opened to his efforts. There on the crowded beach, with music filling the night and the smell of the bay mingling with the smoky fire, Pete felt his world shift into place.

WHEN THEIR LIPS parted, Jenna had to remind herself to breathe. Pete’s kisses made her body hum with anticipation. She was still sitting on his lap, his strong arms wrapped around her, making her feel feminine and safe against his powerful breadth. She felt his desire hard beneath her bottom, and a thrill shuddered through her.

“Do you want to dance?” His voice was deep and carried an undercurrent of desire.

No. I want you to kiss me again
.  “You’ll dance with me?”

“Babe, I’d do anything with you.”

Zing!

Groups of people gathered around the band, dancing and swaying to the music. Pete pulled her close, and she slid her hands beneath his shirt and up his muscular back, memorizing the feel of him. The temperature was warmer with the crowd blocking the breeze from the bay—or maybe it was from Pete’s body pressed against hers. His hands slid to the curve of her butt and pressed lightly. Jenna’s nerves were on fire. She wanted to kiss him and touch him until she had her fill. She felt herself breathing hard, and when he gazed down and searched her eyes, pressing his hips to her, she was as aroused as he was.

He was so much taller than her that lifting up on her toes would never get her close enough for a kiss, but oh, how she wanted to kiss him. Years of wanting him rushed forward. She might not be able to reach his lips, but she could damn well give him the signal he was searching for. She slid her hands around to his rock-hard abs and then ran them up his chest. His skin was hot, and his heart thundered against her palm. When he lowered his cheek to hers and whispered, “Let’s get out of here,” she had to stop herself from thanking him. 

They hurried along the beach hand in hand, closing the distance toward Pete’s house and stopping every few feet to kiss. Pete’s kisses were like a force unto themselves. His arms engulfed her, making her feel feminine and safe, as he explored every bit of her mouth with deep, lush strokes of his tongue. He didn’t just kiss her; he consumed her, claimed her with kisses that held promises of so much more. She’d never felt so desired in all her life.

Waves crashed against the rocks along the shore by his house. Jenna had known that he lived in Eastham, but she’d never been to his house, and when they’d dropped off the truck, they’d gone straight down the beach toward the music. Now, as they followed the sandy trail up the bluff to his house, she took it all in. The dark shingled home and enormous barn were outlined with white trim. Set against the backdrop of the night sky, his property felt welcoming. Pete’s hand tightened on hers, big as a bear paw, and if the way he’d held her when they were dancing and kissing was any indication, just as lethal.

When they reached the door, the bay breeze tousled Pete’s hair, and his eyes bored into her. His full lips curved up, and he pulled her into another deep kiss. A shiver ran down her spine at the realization of where they were heading. She hooked her finger into the waist of his jeans to keep her legs from wobbling. He didn’t say a word, and it was a good thing, because she was sure her nerves would have silenced her voice.

He opened the door and Joey bounded out, climbing Pete’s legs and whimpering with excitement.

“Hey, girl.” He crouched beside her and loved her up. Joey rolled onto her back, and Jenna joined him, petting Joey’s belly as she tried to lick her hands. Her nerves eased, until she glanced at Pete and their eyes locked. The space between them heated with unspoken desires. He reached for her hand, and Joey bounded away as Pete led her inside.

“Joey?” she said.

“Doggie door.” His voice was raspy and deep.

They walked through a tidy kitchen and into a warm living room. Sheer curtains billowed around open French doors that overlooked the bay. The breeze carried the crisp, salty scent of the bay, and when Pete drew her into his arms, it picked up his masculine scent and lust clutched her again. A whisper of worry floated through her mind.
Erotic, sensual
. It faded as quickly as it had come. She felt safe with Pete, and she knew he’d never force her to do anything she didn’t want to.

He swept her hair from her face. “You’re so beautiful, Jenna. I haven’t been able to think of anything but you for days.”

She felt her cheeks flush as he lowered his lips to her neck and trailed kisses to the sensitive skin just beneath her ear. She closed her eyes and slid her hands beneath his shirt again. Jesus, his kisses spread heat through her body like an inferno, and she went a little wild, plucking at the buttons on his shirt until it fell open, exposing hard planes of tanned flesh. She ran her hands up his ribs to his pecs and felt his nipples pebble beneath her fingers. His mouth was working magic on the curve of her neck, sending goose bumps down her arms. She had to taste him. As if reading her mind, he cupped her ass and pulled her against him. Her lips pressed against his chest, and she followed the arc of his pectoral muscles with her tongue, earning her a low groan from him as he lifted her dress and took hold of her ass with both hands. His mouth moved lower, and she arched back, opening to his advances, wanting, craving, more of him. When his lips touched the crest of her breast, she sucked in air. He ran his tongue along the crease of her cleavage, sending a shiver through her. She clutched his waist at the shock of need that rushed through her. Her hand slid to the front of his pants, and she cupped his hard shaft through the rough material. His lips met hers again as he adeptly untied the top straps of her halter dress, freeing her breasts. Standing before him with her breasts exposed, while he was still dressed, shirt open, should have made her feel vulnerable and nervous. Instead she felt empowered, and the wanton look in his eyes bolstered her confidence. She tightened her grip on his hard length.