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She felt hurt, but most of all she felt lonely. Lonely for someone who understood her and cared for her. Lonely for someone she could confide in.
Which made it dangerous for her to be around Scott.
She glanced hungrily at his wide shoulders and muscular arms. It would be so easy to slide into those arms and lean for a moment. She didn’t want him to fix her life. She just wanted to absorb some of his strength so that she could fix it herself. It was the closeness she missed.
“You’ve changed so much. I’m sorry.” His voice was thickened. “I didn’t only kill us, I killed you.”
The emotion moved from her throat to her heart. “That isn’t true.”
“Isn’t it? You’re gripping life so tightly there is no chance it’s going to get away from you. You’re afraid to let go of the reins.”
“Last time I let go of the reins I found myself pregnant.” She’d also found herself in love, and that had been worse. She didn’t ever want to go there again. Love had been the most adventurous thing she’d done and also the most terrifying.
“That was my fault, too.”
“That was no one’s fault. An accident. They happen.” The paint was drying on the brush. “You say I’ve changed, but isn’t that what growing up is all about? Learning from mistakes? Making better choices?”
“You used to be happy. You laughed all the time. I’d never met anyone who laughed as much as you did.”
“My happiness isn’t top priority right now. There’s Mack to think of, and my mother. She deserves some happiness after everything my father put her through. And my sister—” She knew Jenna was suffering, and she felt helpless. “You wouldn’t understand. You’ve never stayed in one place long enough to learn about responsibility or commitment.” She realized how that sounded and felt instantly guilty. It wasn’t his fault that his childhood had been like an ill-fitting jigsaw puzzle. A series of disconnected pieces. “I meant that as a statement of fact, not a criticism. I know how tough it was for you.” She knew that the repeated rejection had gradually eroded his belief that he could be loved. And why wouldn’t it? No one had stuck with him.
“My childhood taught me plenty about survival.”
It was a depressingly bleak summary.
Shouldn’t there be more to life than survival?
He was silent for a moment, as if there was something he wanted to add. Then he turned away. “Come and look at the countertops.”
Countertops?
She followed him into the kitchen, wishing it wasn’t such a tight space, and saw how much progress he’d made in the two weeks he’d been here.
He’d worked miracles. Because Nancy had chosen the place for the upstairs room with its flood of natural light, she hadn’t cared about the kitchen. That hadn’t mattered too much when it was used as a studio, but they had all agreed that if the Sail Loft was going to become a home, then the kitchen needed serious attention.
Scott had ripped out the old kitchen and replaced the old cheap cabinets with hand-painted custom cabinets he’d built and fitted himself. The countertops were white granite and the result was stylish and sophisticated.
“You’ve done a great job. It’s beautiful.” She stroked her hand over the wood, admiring his skills. “Maybe you should do this instead of working at the boatyard.” He’d told her once about one of the foster families he’d stayed with, who had given him back because they couldn’t handle him. She imagined him as a child, scared and traumatized, waiting for the next rejection. “Will you look for another house for yourself?”
“Not right now.”
He stood right next to her and his arm brushed against hers. She felt the tension in him and sensed he was exercising superhuman restraint. For weeks they’d been dancing round the chemistry and it was becoming harder to ignore.
It had been too long. She still wanted him, and want and denial together created a particular type of agony.
She turned her head and met his gaze. Her heart fluttered and her stomach dipped. She wondered what it was about him that made her feel as if she’d missed a step.
The air was so thick with tension she could taste it.
She wasn’t sure who made the first move, or if they moved at the same time. All she knew was that one minute she was standing there fighting her feelings, and the next she was in his arms.
They came together hard and fast, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her with a raw, savage need. She kissed him back with the same desperation, her hands digging into the hard muscle of his shoulders as she tried to pull him closer. She felt the strength of his hands holding her head, the erotic slide of his tongue and the intimate pressure of his body against hers. He tugged at the clip holding her hair and she felt it spill over her shoulders and down her back.
Sliding his fingers into the heavy mass, he muttered something indistinct against her lips but she couldn’t make out the words.
They kissed with undiluted, unashamed urgency and she felt her body flood with sensation and her muscles weaken.
Without breaking the kiss, he ripped at her shirt and she wrenched at his, sliding her hands over taut muscle until she reached the waistband of his jeans. Her hands brushed against his abdomen and he powered her back against the wall, pinning her there. His arms were either side of her and she was grateful to be trapped between him and a solid surface because her legs didn’t seem to want to hold her upright.
