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“Did I do something?”
“No. I haven’t been called Bree in a long time,” she said, eyes drawn back to his intense gaze.
He was silent for a few seconds. “Do you want me to stop?”
Did she? She shook her head and whispered. “No.”
Teague’s fingers trailed down her cheek and over her collarbone. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so if I’m overstepping tell me. Last night was nice. Hell, last night was more than nice. I liked having you here.”
His eyes darkened and she shivered.
“I liked watching you sleep.” A soft smile played around the corner of his mouth. “You make these sounds.”
“Sounds?” Oh God. Had she snored? “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
He leaned in close, so close that his warm breath fell over her skin. “From the back of your throat. It’s sexy as hell.”
“Oh.” Cheeks pinker than ever, she didn’t know what to say.
“So how about that coffee?” he asked, his hand finally sliding away from her collarbone. And that was a good thing, because it was hard for Sabrina to think straight when he was touching her.
“I think coffee sounds good,” she said carefully, taking a step back.
“Double cream and sugar?” he asked, heading to the glass doors and finally letting Bingo inside.
“How did you…”
“I’m a navy man, remember? I pay attention.”
With that he disappeared inside the house, her traitor dog barking like crazy when he did. Still feeling more than a little weird about being on Teague’s deck in nothing more than her pajamas, Sabrina leaned on the railing and gazed out across the water.
There were already boats dotting the large lake and she watched a couple jet skiers fly over the water.
“They must feel so free,” she murmured, smiling as the woman squealed when she hit her partner’s wake.
“Have you ever been on a jet ski?” Teague handed her a large mug.
“No,” she said. “I’m sure you’ve figured out I’m not a water person. We just have the boat.”
The two of them sipped their coffees for a few minutes and then Teague set his cup down on the ledge, resting his elbows there as he leaned forward.
“So what’s your story?”
The question was from left field and it took a bit for Sabrina’s fuzzy brain to focus and even longer for her to get the words out.
“My story?”
He nodded. “Everyone’s got a story. What’s yours? Where do you come from?”
Her story wasn’t exactly unicorns and rainbows. “There’s nothing much to tell. I’ve lived here since I was a kid. I met Brent when his family bought their cottage and he started spending summers here. We got engaged when I was barely twenty and married the next year.” She thought back to that time, her mind turning pages of memories.
Walks in the park with her husband.
Dinners at the Irish pub down the street from their townhouse.
Thirty-six hours of labor before she delivered her twins.
Louise and Brent cheering her on the entire time.
