Sweet Love at Bayside (Sweet with Heat

by Addison Cole

  She turned back to Rick, relieved she was the only one with the dirty mind.

  Rick’s eyes darkened as she opened her mouth and bit into the marshmallow. She put her hand up to block her mouth as she chewed. He moved it away and sealed his lips over hers, slathering the sweet, sticky treat over her tongue. It melted into their half laugh, half kiss, and she dissolved into him. He drew back just far enough so she could see the heat in his eyes as he sucked the stickiness off his fingers, igniting flames beneath her skin. I want to do that. I want to suck your fingers, lick marshmallow off your entire body. Lick and suck, and—

  “You’ve got that flustered look again,” he said in a heady voice.

  Anticipation climbed up her limbs, but she caught sight of Hagen in her peripheral vision, and as Rick moved in for another hot kiss, she put her palm to his chest. “Rain check. Hagen might see us.”

  Rick made a guttural sound. It was so sexy, she nearly ate her words and kissed him. He rose to his feet, bringing her up beside him, and headed away from the group.

  She hurried to keep up. “Where are we going?”

  “Dancing.”

  Remembering last night’s dance, she couldn’t stop grinning. A good distance from the group, he gathered her close and began moving seductively. She could feel his arousal. His mouth came down over hers as his hands moved up and down her back in a dizzying pattern. He took the kiss deeper, cupping her butt and making her whimper with need. With the bay breeze at her back, and her hot man pressed against her, her body begged for more. He gazed into her eyes, looking at her like he was wrestling with his emotions.

  “Sorry, beautiful. I have been wanting to do that all night. Seeing you with my family did something to me.” He tightened his hold on her. He’d been doing that all night, too, as if he were afraid the air slipping between them might steal her away. “I hope you weren’t overwhelmed by everyone.”

  “Not at all. You’re lucky. If I had a family like that, I don’t think I’d ever move away.”

  RICK TOUCHED HIS forehead to Desiree’s, thinking about what she’d said. He was lucky. Real lucky. He had a great family and friends who were as close as blood. Thinking of the reasons he’d left the Cape all those years ago, he said, “Sometimes the hardest place to be is where everyone knows you best.”

  Confusion rose in her eyes, and he drew her against him, hoping to put that conversation aside for a while. As they danced in the moonlight, he thought of all Desiree had revealed to him, admiring her ability to keep such a positive outlook when her life had been turned upside down by the very woman who should have been watching out for her.

  Just like last night, Rick lost track of time and space and anything but the woman in his arms. He didn’t know when his sister and her family had left, or how long ago Drake and Dean had stopped playing their guitars. All he knew was that as they broke away from a particularly hot kiss, he needed to be alone with Desiree.

  “What do you say we get out of here?”

  She glanced at the bonfire. “Sure, but we should say goodbye.”

  He didn’t want to share her any more than he already had, but he respected her too much to deny her the chance for a proper goodbye. They headed back to the group and said they were taking off. As Serena hugged Desiree, promising to come by the shop soon, Rick picked up Drake’s guitar.

  “Mind if I borrow this?” he asked his brother.

  “No. Go ahead,” Drake said. “You okay?”

  Drake knew him so well. He only played when he thought of his father, and right then, thoughts of his father were following him like a shadow.

  “Do you play?” Desiree asked.

  “A little.” He draped his arm over her shoulder.

  “Oh, please,” Serena said. “These three were in a band together as teenagers. He’s really good.”

  “Okay, we’re out of here.” Rick dragged her away before anyone could share stories of him disappearing into music after he’d lost his father.

  “Why didn’t you play with the guys tonight?”

  “And miss holding you? No, thank you.” He kissed Desiree’s cheek as they headed down the beach toward her place. “I’ll bring your sandals by tomorrow.”

  “Good. That means I’ll see you again.”

  He smiled down at her. “Did you have any doubt?”

  “Well, you did call me your girlfriend, so I guess I shouldn’t, but…”

  “But nothing, sweetheart. A daily occurrence, remember?” He stopped walking and dropped to one knee, resting the guitar over his other and holding tightly to her hand. “Desiree, will you go out with me tomorrow, and the next day, and every day thereafter, until you either get sick of me or leave the Cape?”

  She covered her mouth, but nothing could hide her radiant smile. “Yes, you silly man.”

  “‘Silly’ doesn’t sound very manly,” he said as he rose to his feet.

  She cuddled against him as they walked along the shore. “On the right man, ‘silly’ is as hot as ‘strong.’”

  “Really? Huh. I’ll have to amp up my silliness.”

  Desiree laughed. “You’re wonderful just as you are. Full of surprises. Oh, shoot. Tomorrow night I’m going out with Violet. I’m sorry. I totally forgot.”

  “Ditching me already?”

  “Hardly, but I think our sheets are from the Colonial days. We really need to get new ones.”

  “Have fun. I’ll hang out with Dean and Drake, and we’ll get together Friday night. That is, if you’re free.”

  “I’m definitely free,” she said, lacing her fingers with his.

  When they reached Desiree’s house, they sat in the sand and Rick played his guitar, singing songs that made Desiree smile. He wanted to play all night long, just to see the joy in her eyes.

  Deep into the night, when Desiree looked a little sleepy, he played “I Wanna Be That Song,” by Brett Eldredge, and sang it to her. And there, with the moon glistening off the water and his girl sighing dreamily beside him, he knew he was falling hard. He wanted to be the song that got her high and made her dance and made her fall. He wanted to be the melody that made time stand still for her, filled her up, and kept her young. He wanted her to believe she was right where she should be. By his side.

  She sighed, and those penetrating green eyes of hers washed over him with so much emotion, he felt like she saw right through him.

  “There’s something incredibly sexy about the way you wear your emotions on your sleeve,” he said. “What are you thinking right now?”

  “A lot of things. I was thinking about how nice it was to see you joking around with everyone, and wondering if Violet and I could ever be as close as you and Drake. And I was thinking about Mira and Hagen, and how incredible it must be for her to have found someone who loves her and her son so much.” She glanced up at him with soulful eyes. “But mostly, I was thinking that this has been the most romantic night of my life, and I don’t want it to end.”

  “Then we won’t let it.”

  Chapter Eight

  “I HAVEN’T BEEN up here in years.” Desiree looked over her shoulder with a pensive yet excited look in her eyes as she and Rick ascended the stairs toward the widow’s walk. She’d loaded him up with pillows and blankets from a closet on the second floor. When they reached the top of the stairs, she stepped into the small cupola and inhaled deeply. “I was afraid to come up here alone, and I can’t guarantee that it’s not rotted out by now.”

  “Why were you afraid? The house seems stable despite a few cosmetic things that need attention. I haven’t looked closely, but from what I saw outside, there wasn’t anything that made me think it was in disrepair.”

  “It wasn’t that so much as memories. This is where I’d come to be alone. But now that I’m thinking about it, it really could be rotted out.”

  He smiled. He glanced out the door, searching the darkness with his contractor’s eye for broken railings or missing balusters. He reached up and flicked the light switch by the door, and
dozens of tiny orange lights sparked to life, illuminating a newly renovated, freshly painted widow’s walk. Beautiful ornate balusters supported wide railings. An unusually deep bench, the size of a queen bed, was built into the perimeter, topped with thick colorful cushions.

  Desiree latched on to his arm. “Rick,” she said in a shaky voice. “Lizza. She must have done this. The orange lights. That’s my favorite color. When I got here, she was wearing a long orange dress. I thought it was a coincidence.” Tears welled in her eyes.

  “She must have done this for you, Des,” he said, his chest full and happy for her. “You said you were the only one who came up here, right?”

  “I was. My grandmother told me that my mother used to come up here. That was the reason I first started. To see if I could, I don’t know, get a sense of her.”

  He knew all about reaching for someone who wasn’t there. He’d spent a lifetime holding on to a ghost. “And did you? Get a sense of her?”

  She shook her head, her eyes clearer now. Shifting the blankets and pillows into one arm, he grabbed the door handle, looking to her for approval. She nodded, and he pushed the door open. Cool air swept over them. Desiree crossed her arms against the chill, and he set the guitar and blankets on the cushions.

  “I forgot how much colder it was up here.” She stepped outside and ran her hand along the railings as he closed the door behind them. “It’s so beautiful, but why would she do this? Nothing else in the house has been renovated.” She waved at the bench. “When I was growing up, there was no bench or anything. I’d just throw pillows and blankets on the deck and plop right down.”

  She was talking so fast, he knew she was nervous. He set the pillows up against the railing, watching her as she gazed out over the water. The breeze carried her hair away from her face, and she looked even more radiant than usual, despite the part of her that must be coming undone.

  He wrapped his arms around her from behind. “She put a lot of thought into this, Des.”

  She turned in his arms, hope and confusion battling in her eyes.

  “Sweetheart, I know what it’s like to be reaching for a ghost that always slips through your fingers. What I don’t know, but it seems like you have a chance to find out, is what it’s like to catch one. Don’t let your questions hold you back from feeling all the joy of knowing you’re on her mind a lot more often than you thought.”

  Her expression turned serious. “It’s just…Why wouldn’t she tell me she did this, or leave a note, or something?”

  “Because maybe she has just as much fear over what it means as you do. Or maybe she’s not the kind of person who leaves notes. I think the important thing is that she’s clearly making some kind of an effort.”

  “She’s so crazy. Look how she got me here.” Her forehead wrinkled in contemplation.

  “Do you still want to hang out up here?”

  “Yes. It’s just a lot to take in.”

  A few minutes later they settled against the pillows with their feet stretched out in front of them. He covered their legs with a blanket, and when he put an arm around her, she rested her head on his shoulder.

  “It seems like a lifetime ago when I’d sit up here dreaming of my mother surprising me by showing up on a boat, or parachuting onto the beach for a long visit instead of the quick day or two at the end of my summer vacation. Crazy little-girl dreams.”

  “Not so crazy, and dreaming is good. After we lost my father, I swore I heard him everywhere. Walking around the house, his voice in the wind, and I’d dream about what I would say to him if he were there. Sometimes I still do.”

  “Big-boy dreams,” she said, and tipped her face up toward his. “What was your father like?”

  “That depends who you ask.” Love and longing twined together inside him, bringing his truth to life. “To me he was bigger than life. He was aggressive, never let anyone or anything stand in his way. I thought he was indestructible. The strongest, smartest man alive.”

  “Like you,” she said. “You come across that way.”

  He scoffed. “I’m glad you think so, babe, but he was so much more of a man than me. But like I said, if you ask Mira, she’ll say he was too strict, and Drake thinks he was overzealous, although they both adored him.”

  She smiled. “Good word.”

  He leaned down and kissed her. “My girl likes me to use the right words.”

  “Do you want to talk about him?”

  “No.” He kissed her again, but instead of deepening the kiss, he held back. He realized he wanted to share this part of himself with her after all. When their lips parted, he said, “Yes. I’d like to tell you about my father if you’re sure you want to hear it.”

  “I do. When we were dancing earlier, you said ‘Sometimes the hardest place to be is where everyone knows you best.’ That’s always been my safest place, with my friends and my father. Last night you said Drake and Dean and your friends were the ones who watched out for you. Aren’t they the same people who know you best?”

  He shifted his eyes away, struggling against a wave of emotion.

  She took his chin between her fingers and turned his face toward her. “Do you want to let me in?”

  “You’re in, Des. You’re in so deep I can’t stop thinking about you.” He clenched his teeth, and she pressed her lips to the tight muscles in his jaw.

  “Geez, everything you do…” He turned on his side so he could look into her eyes. “My father would have liked you. You’re smart and sweet, and strong, and you don’t put on airs. He used to say, ‘Never trust a person who puts on airs, and for Pete’s sake, don’t marry one.’” He laughed, remembering the way his father’s eyes would turn serious when he’d say that last part. “He was a custom homebuilder, and all I ever wanted was to grow up to be just like him. We used to talk about making Savage Custom Homes into Savage and Son.”

  “I love that,” she said. “You followed in his footsteps. I bet he’s smiling down on you every day, so proud of the man you’ve become.”

  He swallowed against the ache that had festered inside him for more than a decade and a half. “I’d like to think so. He also taught us other things. How to play the guitar, how to Jet Ski, parasail, surf. You name it, he taught us.”

  “A music-loving adrenaline junkie?” she asked.

  “I don’t know if it was that as much as he loved life, and he never wanted us to be afraid of anything or let anything hold us back. Although, cliff diving, now, that was a pure adrenaline rush. Maybe he was a bit of an adrenaline junkie.”

  “You cliff dive? I’d be afraid to look over a cliff.”

  He pulled her closer and kissed her smiling lips. “I’m going to teach you to do all of those things.”

  “In your dreams, big boy.”

  “Trust me, baby, you’re in my dreams. Although I think you’d be more accurate to call them fantasies.”

  She blushed, but her eyes went dark as a forest, and his body ignited. He groaned, and she trapped her lower lip between her teeth.

  “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to stop talking and devour you.”

  “Okay,” came out in a rush.

  As his mouth came down over hers, she pushed at his chest, laughing. “No. Wait. I want to hear the story.”

  “And I want to kiss you,” he said more harshly than he meant to.

  “If you kiss me like you usually do, until my brain cells fry and my body turns to butter, I’ll never hear the rest.”

  “Baby, you’re killing me. Now I’m thinking of my hands all over you.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “And your hands on me.” Her eyes closed, and he kissed each lid. “And my mouth everywhere.”

  Her eyes flew open.

  “Too much?” He’d pushed too far.

  She shook her head, nodded, and then she shook her head again.

  My mixed-messages girl. “Sorry, babe. I’ll tame my eagerness.”

  “No,” came out fast and loud, and she clamped her mouth shut, e
yes wide. When she spoke again, her voice was husky. “I mean, I like your naughty side, but I want to hear about your father. Hold on. Let me put on my teacher face so you can tell me without wanting to kiss me. Then we can…see about those kisses.”

  She held her hand in front of her face, a sexy giggle slipping out, and he breathed deeply, trying to rein in his desires. It was a continuous losing battle. She lowered her hand, eyes serious, her face a mask of patience and calm as she stared at his chin. She lifted her gaze, and the second their eyes met, the space between them electrified.

  “Talk fast, Rick,” she said breathlessly.

  “Can’t. It’s not a fast subject.”

  She trapped that plump lower lip again. He was holding on to his control by a thread.

  “There’s this thing I do with my really eager students.” She ran her finger down the center of his chest, driving him out of his mind. “I let them run around and get all their energy out so they can concentrate.”

  Oh, heck yes.

  She fluttered her long lashes and said, “Maybe we should…”

  Their mouths collided in urgent, hungry kisses. He took them deeper, and she eased back on the cushion, moaning loudly. How had he resisted her for this long? Her soft curves molded to his body like nothing he’d ever felt. Pure feminine perfection. She threaded her fingers into his hair and held on tight, bowing up beneath him and rocking against his arousal. His head told him not to make too much of it, but his hands were on a mission, traveling down her hips and taking hold. He loved everything about her body, the way her hips filled his hands, her softness pressed against his hard frame. He needed more of the woman who was making him feel and think and wish for something besides the next big business deal. He slid one hand to the base of her skull, and she tipped her head back, giving him better access to the rest of her.

  He didn’t want to miss an inch, and took his time kissing her chin and the column of her neck up and down and around toward her nape, inciting the most lascivious noises from her sexy mouth. When he kissed a path along her breastbone, she arched, offering more. He wished he could tear the dress right off her. But she was the best thing that had come into his life for so long, he didn’t want to misread her.