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He turns to me, and the look of anguish is so raw and genuine that I can’t help myself. I lay a gentle hand on his arm. One second, I’m offering him a small gesture of kindness, and the next, I’m in his arms, and he is holding me tightly to his heaving chest. Every nerve ending in my body springs to life at the contact, and panic starts to rise in my emotion-clouded mind.
He brings his forehead to rest against mine, but he doesn’t move to kiss me. He just holds me to him, and I finally relax against him and allow him to draw whatever comfort he can from our physical embrace.
“Thank you, Foxy,” he whispers.
I try to keep the tremble in my limbs under control as his breath sweeps over my cheek. Fearful that the movement will ruin the moment and small measure of peace I’m able to provide him.
“For what?” I ask.
“For coming tonight. I know this comes a little too late, but I’m so sorry for everything,” he chokes out.
His eyes come to mine, and the soft, compassionate, and genuine look of longing in them mesmerize me, and inexplicably, I want to soak it in. Soak him in.
Which really pisses me the hell off.
“Everything. That’s specific,” I quip.
“Do you need specifics? Because I can list them for you.”
I shake my head.
I’m not ready to dredge up the past because I’m not ready to forgive him. I’ve been angry for so long that I’m afraid to let the anger go. It’s all I have left of him.
Until now.
He’s here in this boat with me. The two of us.
Erin’s words echo in my mind. “Turn the tables on him. Enter a non-emotional physical relationship with the man while he’s home. Wrap him around your little finger. Make him fall so hard that he can’t see straight and then leave him in a motel in the middle of the night.”
Be brave, Ansley.
Summoning up the courage, I climb into his lap and wrap my arms around his neck. I brace myself, not sure what to do, terrified to move. Nerves shiver down my spine as I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t.
I’m suddenly filled with uncertainty, and just when I’m about to retreat and scramble off of him, he threads his fingers into my hair, and his mouth captures mine in a wild kiss.
As soon as his lips touch mine, heat ignites inside of me like a wildfire tearing up the mountainside. I return his kiss, pouring everything I’m feeling into it—my anger, the hurt he caused me, and even the love I still carry for him.
The urgent desire thrumming through me at this instant is so strong that it fills every corner of my body.
This is right. From the moment I turned and saw him sitting in the diner booth, some part of me knew we would end up here, in each other’s arms. I tried so hard to fight it, but it was inevitable. We are inevitable.
I wrap my arms more tightly around him, soaking in the feel of my soft curves against his hard chest and the contrast of the cool night air swirling around us and the heat of his body beneath me.
“I’m sorry I was such an idiot, Foxy. I was scared. It’s a pitiful excuse for what I did,” he murmurs against my mouth.
“Scared of what?” I ask.
“You. The future. Everything. I was a coward.”
He takes my mouth again. Then, he peppers kisses down my throat.
“I want you so damn bad,” he rasps.
I moan as his tongue reaches my collarbone.
“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”
“I’m nothing special, Garrett. I’m just me,” I whisper.
He leans back and takes my face in his hands. “That’s like saying a mountain lion is just an ordinary little kitty. You, Ansley Humphries, are extraordinary.”
Before I can respond, he takes my mouth again, in a deeper, more possessive kiss, and every coherent thought flies out of my head.
He bears up and lowers me to the bottom of the boat, and all the frustration that I’ve buried deep inside for the last fifteen years comes bubbling to the surface. It’s been so long since I’ve been kissed and held like this. So very long.
The taste of him, the smell of him, the feel of his muscles stretched across his back as I slide my hands under his shirt. It’s all perfect. He’s perfect.
I’m being silly. Just getting carried away by the romance of it all. The sway of the boat on the water, the moonlight, and the re-creation of our first night together. Nostalgia—that’s all it is.
The night is perfect, not him.
His hand comes between us, and he begins to unbutton the front of my flannel shirt.
Ugh, I wish I had worn something sexier—not that he seems to mind, judging by his sharp intake of breath as my shirt falls open, exposing my cotton bra. His hungry eyes devour my sweat-slicked skin. Instead of being embarrassed, I feel feminine and desirable when his eyes darken as the material drops down my arms. He raises a finger and slides the thin white strap off of one of my shoulders.
“You’re gorgeous. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he utters.
I shudder as the chilly air passes over my bare breast, and then a ragged gasp escapes me as his warm mouth finds my taut nipple while a rough hand caresses the other over the fabric of my bra.
“Garrett,” I groan his name as I tangle my fingers into his hair and arch into his mouth as he tastes and teases me.
His eyes come to mine as he releases my nipple, and I lift my body, so he can reach behind and undo the clasp.
He groans low in his throat as my breasts swell in his hands, and everything inside of me tightens.
My hands roam his back as his mouth taunts my body.
Oh God.It’s like I’ve been waiting all this time for him to come back to Balsam Ridge and thaw my frozen heart.
I tug his shirt loose, and he pulls it over his head.
