Tempest whispered, “Has he ever spun around like that?”
Nash shook his head, wondering if all three-year-olds spun in circles.
“He will now,” she said.
Phillip glanced at him, and Nash nodded, giving him approval to do whatever he wanted: watch the other kids, walk around the park, spin in circles…
Phillip watched the kids for another few seconds, then started down the path again.
Tempest wrapped her hands around Nash’s arm and whispered, “That’s huge. He’s noticing what other kids are doing and taking pleasure in their fun. This is what socialization is all about.”
He loved the feel of her hands on him, and it stirred all the heat that had been simmering beneath his lengthy confession. But a public playground was not the best place to get aroused, so he tried not to focus on the feel of her delicate, soft hands on his skin, or the alluring look in her beautiful blue eyes, and focused on what she’d said instead.
“I never realized he was missing out on this stuff.”
She looked at him like he’d said the most ridiculous thing on earth. “How could you? You’re a single dad trying to keep your business going and making sure he’s safe and happy as he gets through each day, while also doing the million other things it takes to raise a child and run a household.” She looked at Phillip and said, “You cannot be all things to him. No parent can be to their child.”
“I can try,” he said honestly.
She leaned in to him as they walked. “There’s a world of difference between a three-year-old and an adult, which is why it’s important for him to be exposed to other kids. They’re supposed to have silly thoughts, spin around, play chase, catch frogs. It’s all part of growing up.” She poked him in the arm and added, “And you’re supposed to have time to finish those sculptures.”
He shook his head at her pushiness, but threads of happiness were forming out of the knots that had held him together for so long. She was understanding, easy to talk to, and she made him want to talk more than he ever had. The words You would have liked my brother were on the tip of his tongue.
He shifted his gaze to Phillip, who was twisting his hammer in his hands, watching two teenagers toss a football. They needed to play ball more and spin around until they were too dizzy to stand and whatever else three-year-olds were supposed to do. They needed to step outside their comfort zones and live a little more.
Tempest’s hands slid off his arm and he reached for her. Her eyes darted to Phillip as he laced their fingers together. Knowing she would put Phillip’s well-being ahead of her own desires tugged at his heartstrings, making it even harder to resist the urge to pull her close and kiss her.
We needed this. We needed you.
Chapter Nine
NASH AND TEMPEST had held hands and talked for most of the morning. He’d been sharing pieces of himself, washing away the cloud of mystery, showing Tempest the sweeter sides of the man she didn’t want to miss out on. She was dying to kiss him again, but she knew they had to be careful not to confuse Phillip. And now, as he leaned inside the truck to buckle Phillip into his car seat, she didn’t even try not to take an eyeful of his ass, all wrapped up in rugged denim. She nibbled on her lower lip, wishing she were that denim so she could hug every inch of his glorious lower half.
Nash finished with Phillip and took Tempest’s hand, walking toward the rear of the truck. His eyes darted through the rear window, and she realized he was making sure Phillip couldn’t see them. His eyes flashed dark as night, and when he slid a hand to the back of her neck, heat pierced her skin.
“Thank you,” he said with a husky voice that made her nipples stand at attention. “I never would have realized Phillip should be in school already, or how much he needed mornings like this, if it weren’t for you.”
“You would have,” she said, but her mind was focusing on the proximity of his mouth. If she tipped forward and up just a hair, she could taste him again. They’d kissed only hours earlier, but it felt like a lifetime ago.
“Maybe one day, but it wouldn’t have been soon enough.” He stepped forward, his thighs pressing against her, and the rest of his incredibly hard body touched her, too. His eyes glowed with a savage fire that made her heart race.
He leaned down, bringing his mouth a whisper away from hers. “I can’t wait another second to kiss you.”
“Then stop wasting time.”
She went up on her toes as he pulled her to him, taking her in a rough and demanding kiss and sending bursts of lust zinging through her. The kiss was frantic and messy. A rushed kiss. A stolen moment. Both of them were acutely aware of the small child waiting for them to return. She didn’t have a hope of remaining in control as he pressed her up against the truck, grinding from hips to chest. Her body moved on its own, arching into him without any directions from her brain, which was done. Finished. Mush. She was driven by an internal blaze no other man had ever stoked, soaking in everything he had to give and hoping it would never end. When he eased the intensity, the rest of his body was still plowing forward. Every soft press of his lips brought a hard bump and grind of his hips.
More, more, more.
Several tender kisses later, he drew back, still holding her around the base of her neck and breathing so hard their chests collided with every inhalation. He touched his forehead to hers and whispered, “Phillip.”
It was all she could do to nod.
He pressed his hands to her cheeks and stared deeply into her eyes. “I’m trying to behave, but I need to be closer to you.” He glanced at the rear window again, and she finally found her voice.
“Later.” Holy cow, did I just say that?
His gaze went predatory.
She swallowed hard. Yup. She’d said it all right.
But this wasn’t her. She didn’t sprint right past getting to know a guy before moving on to all the dirty things that were racing through her mind—naughty things she wanted to do with and to Nash. She’d slept with only three men in her life. Three. And she’d dated each of them for a few months.
He pressed his lips to hers again, brushed his scruff over her cheek, and whispered, “No pressure. I love kissing you. I just want more of it.”
Relief swept through her, and then his hands were in her hair, and he rose to his full height, holding her against him.
“Tempe,” he whispered.
She’d heard her name millions of times, but never with so many emotions threaded into it. Nash took her hand and walked her to the passenger door. “FedEx, drop off flyers, and hit the grocery store?” he asked casually, as if this were the way they spent every Saturday morning, sneaking kisses in a parking lot.
“Don’t you need to get your work done?”
He shook his head as he opened the door. “Work, or spend the day with you and Phillip?” His lips curved up in a sexy smile. “I’d be crazy to pass up a chance at spending the day with two of the funnest people around.”
“You must not know many people,” she teased.
“Not many like you, that’s for sure.”
The honesty in his eyes told her it wasn’t just a line. She climbed into the truck. “What do you think, Phillip? Want to go hang up flyers and pick out some goodies at the grocery store?”
Phillip nodded, his eyes wide. “Spaghetti and ice cweam?”
Could you be any cuter? “Sounds perfect to me.”
Half an hour later they walked into Emmaline’s Café with a flyer in hand and headed for the ad board.
Emmaline nearly bumped into Nash as she whipped out of the kitchen.
“Whoopsie!” Her eyes sailed over Nash, down to Phillip, standing beside him, and then to Tempest. “Hey, Tempe! I see you met Mr. Mysterious.”
“Nash,” Tempest said with a laugh. “This is Emmaline, the owner of the café and Jillian’s bestie. Emmaline, Nash and Phillip Morgan. My new housemates.”
Emmaline gave Nash a long, lascivious look and crouched beside Phillip, who slipped behind Nash�
�s legs. “Well, hello there, cuteness. I just baked some cookies. Would you like one?”
Nash lifted Phillip into his arms, his face serious.
Emmaline rose, giving Tempest a curious look. “I should probably have asked Dad first. Sorry. Is it okay to give him a cookie?”
Phillip turned a hopeful gaze to Nash, who nodded curtly. “Sure. Thanks.”
“One cookie coming right up.” Emmaline hurried over to the counter.
“Nash,” Tempest whispered. “That was a little intimidating.”
“Hm? What do you mean?” He kissed Phillip.
“Oh boy.” She smiled and wiggled Phillip’s foot. “I think we need to bring Daddy out for a little more socialization, too.”
Phillip buried his face in Nash’s neck.
“Was I that unfriendly?”
As Emmaline approached, Tempest said, “A smile goes a long way.”
“Here we go.” Emmaline handed Phillip a cookie wrapped in a napkin, and then she handed one to Nash. “One for cuteness and one for his very serious daddy.” She winked at Tempest and said, “I’ve got your favorite muffin all ready for you after you hang that up.”
Nash flashed a noticeably forced smile. “Thank you, Emmaline. It looks delicious.”
Tempest stifled a laugh. “Thanks, Em.”
“Thank you,” Phillip said with a mouthful of cookie crumbs tumbling out of his mouth.
When they left the café, Nash said, “I smiled.”
“That you did, and did you see how Phillip smiled, too?”
He seemed to mull that over as they walked down the block. They left a stack of flyers at Mommy and Me, a local clothing boutique, the ice cream shop, and the post office, and she noticed Nash made a concerted effort to smile at each of the people who said hello as they breezed in and out of the shops.
At the grocery store Phillip helped Tempest push a grocery cart down the ice cream aisle, which left Nash’s hands free to touch her every chance he got. When Phillip was busy picking out sprinkles, she reached for the ice cream, and Nash’s hand grazed over her lower back. When she stood behind Phillip, helping him push the cart, Nash took full advantage, sneaking kisses to the back of her neck and placing a possessive arm around her waist. Every furtive glance, every secret touch, made her hotter, needier, and by the time they put the groceries in the back of the truck, she not only anticipated his touch, but she craved it.
When they finally got home, Tempest put away the groceries while Nash made Phillip lunch. He brushed against her back while reaching for a cup, and when she turned to put the milk in the fridge, he was right there. The gallon of milk hit him in the stomach. When had the kitchen become so small?
The edge of his lips tipped up in a devilish grin, and his hand moved over hers as he took the jug of milk. “Can I make you some lunch?”
In her head she heard, Would you like to eat me for lunch? She was definitely losing her mind, and he must have noticed her quandary because he chuckled as he put the milk in the fridge.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I can make you a sandwich.”
Phillip held up a carrot stick and said, “Or cawits.”
She blinked up at Nash, who was looking at her with an amused grin. “Um, sure. Thanks.” She needed air, and space, and she needed it now, before she jumped him right there in the kitchen. She grabbed the last grocery bag with her shampoo and conditioner in it and headed for the stairs. “I’m going to take this up to my room. I’ll be right back.”
She’d been a hot mess since they’d kissed in the parking lot, and now she was like a nymphomaniac needing her next fuck. She dropped the bag on the bed and went straight out to the deck. She leaned her palms on the railing, closed her eyes, and inhaled a deep, cleansing breath. She could do th—
A pair of big, strong arms circled her waist. Nash’s hips pressed against her, his hands crossed her body, bringing her back flush with his chest. Oh Lord. He felt so good. Smelled so sexy.
“Are you okay?” Even his tone dripped with sensuality.
She was sure he could feel her heart pounding through her back. She turned in his arms. Her stomach tumbled beneath the heat of his piercing stare.
“Yeah,” she said breathlessly.
He kissed her neck. “You sure?”
“Yeah, I just needed some air. It’s been a…” She tried to drag her eyes from his, but he had her under some sort of spell. “A busy day. I need to play my guitar or something.”
“You’re trembling. Are you sure you’re okay?” He tightened his grip on her, rubbing his cock slowly against her belly.
“Yes, fine. Just—”
His finger traced the edge of her jaw, making it impossible for her to think, much less speak. Was she even breathing?
“Just what, Tempest?” He lifted her chin with a gentle touch, and she felt her insides melting.
“Just. Just.” She inhaled sharply. There was only one way she was going to regain control. She needed to get far away from him. But she didn’t want to move an inch. Then I have to take what I want. But Tempest had never wanted to take before. And she felt a bit lost. She needed guidance. She needed CliffsNotes. She needed to learn fast, or she was going to be a needy mess for as long as she lived under Nash’s roof.
“Just kiss me—” The words flew from her mouth, and then there was no way to stop the rest from tumbling out. “My heart is going crazy, and my body’s on fire, and if I don’t kiss you soon I’m afraid I’ll go up in flames.”
He cradled her jaw in his hands, lowering his smiling mouth so close she could taste his breath, and hovering there. Like a candy bar just out of reach.
“We wouldn’t want you to go up in flames.” He nipped at her lower lip.
Her breath left her lungs, her pulse quickening in anticipation. But he didn’t grace her with those perfect lips. He buried his face against her neck and brushed a kiss there.
“Are you sure, Tempest?” He slicked his tongue along the base of her neck and then he put his mouth beside her ear and whispered, “You know how hard it is for us to stop kissing.”
His whispers were like liquid sex, and she felt herself go damp. She heard herself whimper and grabbed his waist, curling her fingers into his skin. “Phillip?”
“He’s coloring downstairs.” He pushed his hands beneath her hair, angling her mouth beneath his.
God she loved when he did that.
“I need to kiss you,” she pleaded. “But I don’t know what to do if we can’t stop. We have to stop.”
“We do have to stop,” he agreed, moving his hips seductively against her so she felt every inch of his arousal.
Her entire body throbbed in anticipation of his kiss. How could she be this desperate for the taste of a man? She’d never felt so out of control in all her life. She arched forward, wanting his heat, needing his kiss, craving his touch. He ran his tongue over her lower lip. She inhaled a shaky breath, licking her own lips, as if she could taste him that way.
“One kiss.” He touched his mouth to hers in a slow, tender kiss, settling all the jumpiness that had claimed her.
This was right. This she could take.
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, while Phillip was napping and Tempest was working on the itinerary for her Girl Power group, Nash made headway on the cabinet he was working on for Country Charm. As he sanded the grooves on the door, he thought about Tempest’s reaction to seeing his sculptures. He used to thrive on the look of awe in customers’ eyes when they’d fall in love with his work. Seeing that look in her eyes? That had blown him away. He pulled his key from his pocket and went into the workshop. The two barns were the primary reasons he’d chosen this property above the other rural homes he’d looked at. He’d once dreamed of making the smaller barn, the one near the pond, into a gallery. It had seemed so plausible at the time. Now it was where he stored the metals he wasn’t able to work with, and a few boxes of holiday decorations his mother had planned to throw away after his father died.
He ran hi
s hand over the sculpture of the young man gazing up at the sky. He’d begun sculpting it when he bought the property, two months before Phillip was born. He’d had a son on the way, and his creative juices had not only been flowing like a river, but they’d opened tributaries to the past. For those two months he’d disappeared into the barn from sunup until long after midnight, pouring his emotions into his work. He’d tried to clear out the ghosts of his past and pave the way for his future as a father. It had helped, but it wasn’t enough. He and Alaina had never talked about his family, and pouring his emotions into his art was a lot like pouring them into the songs he’d written those two years on the boat. It was an outlet, but not the one he needed. And then Phillip was born, and his hours in the workshop had dwindled. He’d eventually locked up his past to try to build his future, hoping the skeletons wouldn’t find a way out.
“Knock, knock.” Tempest peered into the room, clutching a notebook to her chest, looking as gorgeous as ever. The color green had never looked so good. “Are you busy?”
“No. Come in.” He offered a hand, and she took it with a shy smile. They’d kissed only once on the deck, but it had been quite possibly the most intense kiss he’d ever experienced. Then again, every time they kissed seemed more powerful than the last. “I thought you were working on your Girl Power stuff.”
“I am. The meeting’s not until next weekend, so I have plenty of time.”
“But you’re going back to Peaceful Harbor tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I’m working with one of my clients. She had a stroke and she’s suffering from aphasia, which means she knows what she wants to say, but she’s unable to speak the words. She’s also trying to regain motor function on her right side. She’s the sweetest woman, and her husband is so good with her. She’s coming along, but it’s a tough road.”
“Aphasia. I’ve heard of that. That would be frustrating, not being able to communicate.”
Whisper of Love (The Bradens at Peaceful Harbor, Book Five) Page 12