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He frowned, and Sarah tensed. Too far. She should have minded her own business.
But then he nodded. “You’re absolutely right,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I’m messing this up, aren’t I?”
He looked wrecked, and Sarah reached out and touched his shoulder. It was meant as a comforting gesture, but the intense, immediate shock that radiated through her core at the contact had her body reacting. She could see her pulse vibrating in her wrist and her mouth was dry.
Wes’s gaze met hers, and he looked as conflicted as she felt.
Nope. Nope, nope. This was definitely not the time… The guy just admitted he wasn’t sure he was ready for another relationship. Things between them were complicated, and there was Marissa to think about…
But his gaze fell to her lips, and she could see his breath pick up with the heaving of his chest. So she hadn’t imagined things the week before. Wes Sharrun did want to kiss her.
As if on autopilot, she dropped the roller and moved toward him, her body not listening to any of her mind’s warnings. Standing on tiptoes, Sarah wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his.
Wes hesitated only a second before his arms went around her body, pulling her against him. She closed her eyes and sank into him, enveloped in the manly scent of his aftershave and savoring the taste of sweetened, spiked coffee on his lips.
Her fingers tangled into the back of his hair and she deepened the kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth.
His grip tightened at her waist, and then his hands slid higher around her ribs as he held her close to his body. Eager, hungry lips and hands—hisandhers—frantic, unthinking, they explored and caressed until she could barely breathe.
She didn’t want air; she just wanted him—his kiss, his touch…
She was kissing her high school crush and he was returning it with as much passion as she was giving. No kiss had ever felt this intoxicating. No touch had left her craving more the way his did in that moment. Nothing else mattered right now. Just years of unrequited feelings mixed with weeks of chemistry and sexual tension came out of her in a whirlwind of pure emotion…zero logic.
Her hands cupped his face when she sensed he might pull away, and he groaned as he rotated them and pushed her up against the wet wall. His entire body connected with hers as he continued to steal her breath away.
Far too soon, he broke the connection between their mouths, gasping slightly for air as he rested his forehead against hers. Wes opened his eyes, and a look of guilt mixed with panic at the realization of what he’d just done. “Shit. Sorry, Sarah.” He released her and ran a hand over his face.
She had no idea what to say, so she remained silent as she peeled herself away from the sticky paint, leaving an imprint of her ass on the wall.
“That should not have happened,” he said as he took a step toward her. “Sarah…”
She shook her head. “It’s fine.”Totally wasn’t fine. “That was a silly thing to do. I’m not even sure why I thought…” Mumbling incoherently was all she could muster at the moment. Her cheeks were flushed, and she could still taste him on her lips.
He sighed. “No, it wasn’t your fault. I was definitely into it.”
That helped to ease the sting…slightly, at least.
“I mean, you had to be able to tell.”
She nodded. So her instincts weren’t completely off-base; they were just ill-timed?
“I’ve felt things shifting…between us. You too, right?” he asked, suddenly looking unsure.
Would she have attacked him otherwise? She nodded.
“The kiss was amazing. It’s just…”
He looked pained and confused, and Sarah couldn’t deal with the tension simmering in the air around him. “You’re not ready for a relationship.”
“And you’re too busy for one. You don’t want one, either. You’re just here to fix up the inn, and then you have a life to get back to. That’s what you said, right?”
That one kiss had just shattered her entire perception of what she thought she wanted. But she nodded. “Yeah. Absolutely. One hundred percent,” she said, turning her attention back to the painting to hide the bitter sting of disappointment.
Yes, that’s what she’d said. Turns out she was a liar.
Chapter Ten
The next morning, a group of eight- to ten-year-olds waited not so patiently on the sandy beach to learn how to surf. But as he prepped his surfboard, Wes’s mind was anywhere but on the mid-morning waves. The night before had been catastrophic. There was no other way to describe it. He applied the wax roughly to the bottom of his board, desperate to stop the scene from replaying in his mind.
