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If Cooper was shocked by her story, he didn’t show it. Instead, he inched closer. So close she could see his thick, sooty lashes, the subtle flair of his nostrils. That damn dimple that had appeared from nowhere.
“Later that night, unable to live with what he’d just done, the killing of his wife and unborn child, he climbed to the top of the lighthouse and, by the light of the moon, shot himself in the head. They say some nights you can see his ghost wandering the edge of the bluff, searching for his wife and child. Others claim to have seen a headless man near the lighthouse. Always searching for his wife and never finding her.”
Cooper was silent, and Morgan stared up at him for several long seconds. His pupils were dilated, those gorgeous eyes of his all the more intense because of it.
“You have a knack for storytelling.”
She licked her dry lips. “Apparently, so do you.” She frowned, thinking back to their previous conversation. He hadn’t told her anything about his writing career, not really. There was still so much about this man she didn’t know. She opened her mouth, intent on asking for more details but he edged even closer. So close now, she felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek.
She froze, all senses on high alert because the look on his face made her insides quake.
“Don’t.” One simple word, yet the tone in his voice was anything but. It was edged with something dark and sinful and wicked.
“Don’t what?” she managed to get out.
“No more talking.”
Her skin felt electrified, as if the sun was sending down little shock waves that sparked against her flesh.
“I thought you liked talking,” she replied, tongue darting out to moisten her lips.
“I do,” he said roughly, planting himself firmly in front of her. “But right now there’re other things on my mind. Other things I like doing a hell of a lot more than talking.”
She knew where they were headed, and God help her, at the moment she so didn’t care. Morgan might be starting down a dangerous road, and chances were it would come back and bite her in the ass, but right now all she could focus on was how good it felt to be responsible for the look on Cooper Simon’s face.
“Other things.” She swallowed, dragging her gaze from his mouth.
He held her gaze a heartbeat longer and then bent lower. “Things I’ve been thinking about all morning.”
His hands slid into the hair on either side of her head, and he cradled her there. For one heartbeat, their eyes met and held, and then with a groan, he slid his warm mouth across hers. The electricity in the air was potent and she swore she heard it sizzle as currents rolled over her. Around her. In her. She ignored everything including the groundskeeper. There was only Cooper.
She tilted her head and opened her mouth, welcoming the hot thrust of his tongue as he tasted her. He pulled her closer, so close she felt his beating heart against her fingertips. So close his hardness pressed into her and an ache bloomed between her legs. Like an old friend, desire swept over her, and she groaned, clutching Cooper as he trailed a line of fire down her throat and back up until he claimed her mouth once more.
Good God, but the man could kiss. He used his tongue and lips, at first gently, and then growing more aggressive.
And his hands… They were everywhere, stroking her butt, cradling her there and pressing himself into her. She was drowning. Spiraling. Awash in sensations long forgotten. And she didn’t give a damn.
The kiss went on forever. No more than the touching of lips, hands—the melting of bodies. No more, and yet so much more. Her skin was on fire, that pulse between her legs burning. And for the first time in forever, she wanted nothing between her and this man. Cotton and denim be damned.
She moved her hips impatiently, and with a curse, Cooper stilled.
“You’ve got to stop that,” he whispered against her mouth. He rested his forehead against hers, and Morgan drew in several ragged breaths until she finally managed to calm her heart.
The two of them stood together for several quiet moments, and then Morgan spoke. Was it her subconscious talking? Did it matter?
“Why are you doing this?” She swallowed hard. “I mean, with me.”
Did she want to hear his answer?
Throat tight, she fought a multitude of emotions that made her knees buckle, and if not for Cooper, she would have fallen on her butt.
She felt his hand on her chin slowly forcing her head up so that she had no option but to look into his eyes. What she saw there scared her. It scared her because something inside her jumped in response. Something that had long been dead.
“Is it so inconceivable for me to want you?”
Was that even a question? The man was part of a family known throughout America. There was a reason they were referred to as the Southern Kennedys. The Simon name spoke of dynasty and privilege. Of Miami Beach, LA, and New York City. Fisherman’s Landing was only a pit stop for Cooper. He didn’t belong here any more than she belonged at some fancy political party or gala or whatever the heck it was people like him passed their time with.
And aside from all that, there was the obvious. She thought of the images and articles she saw when she’d googled him.
