Bayside Desires (Bayside Summers Book 1)

by Melissa Foster

  “I have no other siblings, and my father’s definitely in the picture. He’s an investment banker, and he was transferred to Connecticut last year, but we’re still close.”

  He was glad to hear that. She was so cagey about her mother, he wondered what was really going on, and it made him want to protect her from whatever it was.

  “And we’ve already established that Violet watches out for you.”

  “She’s a whole other story. My family is complicated, Rick. I don’t want to bore you with the details.”

  “I can handle complicated, and I’m sure I won’t find it boring.”

  She looked down, fidgeting with her hands.

  “I’ll tell you what. Let’s eat dessert, and when, and if, you ever want to talk about it, I’d love to listen.” He pulled a container from the bag. “Close your eyes.”

  She did, and folded her hands in her lap, which was about the cutest thing he’d ever seen. It was easy to picture her patiently leading a class of preschoolers, teaching them letters and games and how to make friends, keeping her naughty side locked up tight. She was kind and careful and perfectly self-aware, especially when she was thinking naughty thoughts and became flustered and turned on. He loved that so much, he wanted to push all her buttons.

  “I can feel you looking at me,” she said sweetly.

  “I’m undressing you with my eyes.”

  Her eyes remained closed, but her mouth curved up. He didn’t know what had inspired him to play this game. He’d never done it before. But she seemed to be coming out of her shell more and more, and he wanted to keep peeling away those layers until he saw the very heart of who she was, not who she wanted everyone else in the world to believe she was.

  “I’m going to put something in your mouth,” he said, thinking a slew of dirty thoughts. “And you tell me what it is.”

  “You didn’t tell me this was a game of trust. It’s a good thing we’re not playing naked.” Her cheeks pinked up, and her fingers curled tight.

  She had no idea what she was doing to him when she said dirty things in that sweet voice. “I’ll add naked desserts to our list of things we should do together. Open up that pretty mouth of yours, beautiful.”

  He set a piece of dessert on her tongue, and a blissful look came over her.

  “Mm—” Eyes closed, she licked her lips, swallowed, and licked her lips again.

  Holy. Hell. That sound, her mouth…

  “Oh my gosh. That is delicious. What is it? Chocolate, strawberry, something?” She licked her lips again, eyes still closed.

  Every stroke of her tongue brought him closer to taking the kisses he was dying for.

  “I know what it is,” she said excitedly. “It’s on the tip of my tongue.”

  He was about to offer to lick it off the tip of her tongue when her eyes flew open.

  “Cheesecake! Right?” Before he could confirm it, she pressed her hands to his thighs and said, “Let me do you!”

  Christ, she was so fucking sexy, looking at him with those big green eyes, her hands squeezing his thighs. He wanted to pull her onto his lap and kiss her breathless. But she was so excited, he also wanted to keep this going.

  “Anytime, sweetheart.”

  “You are so bad. See? The guys I know would never say that. Or call me ‘sexy as a kitten,’ or look at me like you are right now.” Her voice trailed off to a whisper, and she fidgeted with the edge of the sweatshirt. “I like the way you look at me.”

  “That’s a good thing, because I like looking at you, and I plan on doing it all summer long.” He was trying his damnedest to take things slow, but he was this close to kissing her, and once he did, he wasn’t going to stop.

  Her smile twitched, and her gaze flicked up to his. “So, you meant it when you asked about a summer romance?”

  “Yes, I meant it. But don’t worry; you’re not locked in to anything. One date. Two. Forty. This will be whatever you’d like it to be.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to look past a first date, but he found himself hoping for forty.

  “What do you want it to be?” A sea of emotions swam in her eyes—hope, trepidation, lust.

  He wanted to take her in his arms and experience every one of those emotions firsthand. To give her reasons to smile, to discover what was going on with her mother and what made her the careful woman she was. He didn’t know what was going on inside him, but whatever this surge of desire and protectiveness was, he didn’t want to fight it. But he sensed that she’d been hurt, and though he couldn’t pinpoint where or how, he’d do everything within his power to keep her from getting hurt again. And that meant starting with not being too aggressive or scaring her off.

  “I’d like it to be a daily occurrence.” He probably should have said he’d like to see her again tomorrow, and they’d take it one day at a time, but he was only capable of so much restraint. And at that very second, as music played and couples danced, the air between Rick and Desiree beat with a rhythm all their own, and his resolve to go slow frayed even more.

  “I’d like that,” she said. “Very much.”

  Their eyes remained locked for so long, he felt himself leaning in at the same moment she waved her hand nervously and said, “Close your eyes and open your mouth.”

  It took him a second to remember they’d been playing a game. He did as she asked, and a sweet, chocolaty treat touched his tongue. When he closed his mouth, he felt her fingers slip out. Forget the chocolate. I want those fingers back.

  He opened his eyes and caught her watching him intently, sucking the chocolate off her index finger. Her eyes widened, and her finger fell from her lips with a pop. For a beat, everything stilled. Her eyes bored into him with the same storm of emotions as earlier, and his resolve shattered. Their mouths collided, and he threaded his fingers into her silky hair, taking the kiss deeper. She grabbed his shirt, keeping him close. Damn he loved that. She tasted so sweet, kissed him so hungrily, he didn’t want to stop, and when she made the sexiest sounds he’d ever heard, he knew he wasn’t going to. Not yet. Not when kissing her was so much better than his fantasies.

  His arm circled her waist, holding her as close as they could be in that position. He wanted to lift her onto his lap, to feel her legs around his waist, her sweet curves pressed against him, but they were out in public, and no matter how much she’d opened up, he knew she was pushing her boundaries. And hell, he wanted to push them, over and over again.

  They kissed through the remainder of the song, and into the next, and by the time they came up for air, he was hard as steel and she was breathless and flushed. He wasn’t typically a passionate kisser. He liked to rush things along and get to the good stuff. But as he waited for the disclaimer Desiree seemed compelled to state every time she tiptoed out of her comfort zone, he realized he was a passionate kisser. He’d just been kissing the wrong women.

  He was surprised when her disclaimer didn’t come.

  She touched her lips, as if they were still tingling, as his were, and he couldn’t resist kissing her again, softer this time, longer, deeper. Oh yeah, he’d been kissing the wrong women, all right. He did not want to rush through Desiree’s kisses. He wanted to pile them on, to batten down beneath them for the winter and ride them into spring.

  “I wanted to dance with you,” he said as they came up for air. He needed her to know he hadn’t planned on ravishing her, but he was unable to stop.

  “Kiss me now,” she said breathlessly. “Dance another time.”

  She didn’t need to ask twice.

  Rick’s senses surged and skidded as they made out like they needed each other to breathe. Everything blurred together, the sensual sounds slipping from her lungs, the feel of her knees pressing against his inner thighs, her hot little hands on his arms. None of it was enough, and he fought against his own desire to take her back to the truck, pull off on the first dark street they came to, and make love to her. But that wasn’t slow. Hell, this wasn’t slow, and it wasn’t enough,
either. He needed to feel her against him.

  He tore his mouth away. “Dance with me.”

  Rising to his feet, he practically lifted her to hers and swept her into his arms. Their eyes met for only a split second before their mouths came together in a kiss hot enough to join metals. Their bodies took over, swaying to their own sensual beat. Her hands claimed his back, her hips pressed against him, making his body throb with desire. His hands moved down her back, to the dip at the base of her spine, holding her tight so she could feel what she did to him. She moaned into the kiss, and her nails dug into his back through his shirt. They kissed and danced, lost in a world all their own, their emotions pouring out when they broke away for a few short seconds at a time.

  “Love kissing you.” His hands slid south, holding her ass, and earning another heady moan.

  “Don’t stop. Kissing or touching,” she pleaded.

  As if he could.

  Rick didn’t know how much time had passed as they devoured each other, dancing beneath the stars, but eventually he realized that they were the only ones dancing; there was no music. The sparkling lights had gone out, leaving only the light of the candle. He smiled against her lips, and her eyes opened, sucking him right into another lustful kiss. She melted against him with the force of an ocean, constant and demanding.

  “I don’t want to stop,” she said breathlessly.

  He brushed his lips over hers. “We don’t ever have to.”

  Sometime later—half an hour, an hour, he wasn’t sure—they made their way to the truck, stopping every few steps to devour each other. She snuggled up to him on the way back to her place, kissing at the stoplights, the sexual tension in the truck an inescapable entity all its own. When he parked in front of her house, he didn’t want the night to end, and at the same time, he didn’t want to take it so far that she had a chance to regret a minute they’d spent together.

  He took her face in his hands and gazed into her eyes, intending to tell her as much, but no words came. Their mouths joined like metal to magnet, in an urgent, exploratory kiss. She quivered against him, sending a surge of heat through his veins. Her hands moved over his chest, his arms, his thighs. Hot damn, she was right there with him. He leaned into her, and she went willingly onto her back, never breaking their connection. His mouth moved over hers with reckless abandon, and when her hips rocked up, he nearly lost it. He shifted her up toward the passenger door, wishing they were anyplace other than the cramped cab of his truck. He pushed his hands beneath her ass, lifting her hips so he could grind against her center, and sealed his mouth over her neck, earning more sinful, breathy noises.

  “You feel so good,” she said. “Don’t stop.”

  He ground his hips, utterly lost in her, and she opened her knees wider.

  “Oh God. There.”

  He wanted to strip her bare and make her come, but Christ, they were in his truck.

  “Don’t stop,” she pleaded.

  She spread her knees wider, and he angled her hips. He had a cottage, she had a house, and they were making out like horny teenagers in her driveway. This was not how he’d imagined they’d end up, but he was powerless to resist her.

  “Let me make you come, baby,” rushed out before he thought to stop it.

  Her eyes opened, and he feared he’d blown it.

  “Sorry, sweetheart. I got carried away.” He pushed up on his palms, and she wrapped her hand around his neck, tugging him back down.

  “We are getting carried away,” she said with a shy smile. “I don’t usually…”

  “We don’t have to.” He touched his lips to hers, wishing he had used the fucking head on his shoulders instead of letting the one between his legs lead.

  She guided his hand to her thigh. “I want to.”

  Her knees fell open wider, and he took her in a deep, passionate kiss. His hand moved along the edge of her shorts, slipping beneath, and he teased her through her damp panties.

  “Rick—”

  Her breathy plea obliterated his control. His fingers pushed beneath her panties, sinking into her tight heat, and they both went a little wild. She mewled and arched as he found the pleasure point that sent her hands clutching the seat.

  “Oh God. There.”

  Their desperate kisses echoed through the cab of the truck. She dug her nails into his neck; their tongues and his fingers moved to the same erotic beat. Her hips rocked, matching his rhythm, and he teased slow circles over her most sensitive nerves. She made the hottest, greediest sounds with each thrust of his fingers. Her head tipped back, eyelids fluttering, lips swollen and glistening from their rough kisses. He’d never seen anyone more beautiful. Her breaths came in short bursts, and when he slicked his tongue along her neck, sucking on the sensitive skin, she clawed at his back, bowed up beneath him, and buried her face in his shoulder.

  “Ohgod. Rick—”

  “That’s my girl. Let go.”

  Heat and ice collided inside him as she shattered against his hand. He covered her cheeks with kisses, and when he lowered his mouth to hers, she breathed out his name, rocking him to his core.

  He gathered her against him in the tight space, and they shifted onto their sides. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes hazy.

  “There’s my beautiful girl.”

  She pressed her forehead to his chest. “I don’t usually…”

  “Shh. I don’t either.” He tipped her chin up and gazed into her eyes. “All that matters is this, right here. You and me and this powerful thing happening between us.”

  Chapter Six

  DESIREE AWOKE EARLY the next morning with the need for structure, which wasn’t surprising given that things had been in such turmoil since she’d arrived. Except last night, which hadn’t been tumultuous in the same sense that the rest of her life was. It had been surprising, exciting, and wonderful. She’d never gotten completely lost in a man like that before, much less in a truck. But she couldn’t have pried herself away from Rick if she’d wanted to. She’d craved him. And feeling his body against hers had made her want him all the more deeply. Even after their rampant make-out session, they’d had a hard time separating. They’d shared so many one last kisses that she thought Violet might find them lip-locked on the porch in the morning. She touched the tiny spot beside her lip where his whiskers had left a little burn, and a shiver of heat skittered through her. The man knew how to kiss, and touch, and say all the right things. He’d left her body humming for hours, which was probably why she’d woken up with her head spinning and the need to get her arms around her new summer plans.

  She picked up her phone, her pulse quickening as she reread the text Rick had sent shortly after he’d left last night. Sweet dreams, beautiful. I miss you already. She’d had so many conflicting thoughts—Were they moving too fast? Was she getting caught up in him because of the craziness in the rest of her life?—and his text had soothed her worries. He seemed to know just what she needed.

  Boy, does he ever.

  He’d been open and honest about what he’d wanted, and that had made her want him even more.

  She had never come with a man before. Not once, and certainly not with nothing more than kisses and his hand. But their molten kisses alone had brought her right up to the verge of release, never mind what he’d done with his hand.

  She chewed on those thoughts throughout the morning as she walked around the house making a to-do list, starting with her outdated bedroom and bathroom. She’d taken one of the two bedrooms on the third floor. She liked the privacy and the gorgeous bay views out the nearly floor-to-ceiling windows, but also, it had been her grandmother’s bedroom, and it provided a sense of stability she desperately needed. But if she was going to be there for the summer, she needed to get bedding from this century. She spotted Violet on the beach with Cosmos, and she warmed all over. My new family.

  She carried that thought with her as she continued on her list-making journey. Crossing the hall, she passed the narrow door that provided access t
o the stairs leading up to the widow’s walk. She used to sit up there for hours as a little girl, dreaming of all the ways her mother might suddenly show up for a lengthy visit, instead of the quick forty-eight hours at the end of her vacation. She debated going up now, but she wasn’t ready for the emotions she knew would trample over her when she did. Instead, she pushed open the heavy wooden door to the other bedroom, swallowing hard at the sight of her mother’s art studio in progress. The ceiling and walls had been stripped down to the ancient framework and rafters. Unmatched wooden tables were littered with painting supplies, some of which were open, the paint dried up. Masking tape secured sketches of women to the studs, and the windowsill was home to a host of paintbrushes, pencils, paints, magazines, and jars of dingy water with paintbrushes sticking out like lost bones. Half-finished paintings sat on easels and rested against studs.

  She took a few steps into the room, inhaling the scents of her mother’s chaos and unearthing memories she didn’t realize she still held on to. She didn’t have many memories from when Lizza and her father were married, and she was never sure what was real and what she’d fabricated out of desire or resentment. But as she stood in the midst of her mother’s studio, flashes of the past rushed in. She remembered standing in her mother’s studio in her childhood home, trying to get her mother’s attention. Talking hadn’t worked. Singing hadn’t worked. She’d nearly yelled, and still she hadn’t broken through her mother’s trance. Her hands sweated as she remembered knocking a jar of paint off a table and the horrified expression on her mother’s face. Her chest constricted from the memories. She spun on her heels and stormed out, closing the door behind her. She leaned against it, palms to her chest, waiting for her heart to stop racing before she headed downstairs.

  She’d forgotten how high the ceilings were and how each room felt twice as big as rooms in more recently built homes. She was glad her mother was remodeling. But as she moved from room to room, she wondered where the expensive renovations had taken place. The dark hardwood floors were still worn and scuffed, and there were cracks she remembered from her childhood in the drywall. Even the kitchen, though spacious, with a big center island, hadn’t been updated beyond a new refrigerator.