Cape Cod Promises: Love on Rockwell Island

by Melissa Foster

  So instead of giving in to the urge to simply thread her hands into his dark hair and kiss him, she said, “I went by my parents’ house tonight to thank my mom for giving me so much to think about. But you got there before me...and I overheard your conversation with them.”

  “I was just about to tell you about our talk, but it looks like you beat me to it,” he teased.

  Her heart warmed, knowing that he’d planned to share it with her. “Everything you said to them tonight, Trent, it meant so much to me. And I know it meant a ton to my parents, too, even if they weren’t exactly giving you their blessing quite yet.”

  “Your parents have always been so good to me. And they’re right to be cautious. No parent should have to watch their child be in pain. I’m just glad they didn’t kick me out on my ass and tell me to keep away from you or else. I’m luckier than I deserve.”

  “Only a truly brave man would go face the parents of his ex-wife to let them know he was sorry for hurting her and that he wants a second chance. You deserve every ounce of luck...and you deserve this, too.”

  Standing on tiptoe, she touched her lips to his, and as he tightened his hold around her waist, she could feel his heart beating against hers. She traced the bow of his lower lip with her tongue, and she loved the sigh that escaped his lips with the slow tease.

  He’d always known just how to turn her on, like he was born with that knowledge, and she loved the chance to rehone her own seduction skills. When she felt the smile on his lips as he kissed her, and in the growing roughness of his touch, as if he couldn’t hold back, it sent her desires soaring. She slid her hands beneath his shirt and up his back, feeling his muscles go tight.

  “I love when you kiss me. When you touch me,” he said against her mouth.

  She pressed her lips to his neck and dragged her tongue just above the collar of his shirt. “I love the way you taste.”

  She slid down his body, lifting his shirt so she could press soft kisses to his stomach. Oh, how she loved the feel of his firm stomach, the heat of his skin against her mouth. She pressed his hips back against the counter and worked the button and zipper on his jeans, then slid her hand inside them, stroking him through his cotton briefs. His head tipped back with a hiss as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his jeans and pulled everything down to his ankles, freeing his erection.

  “Reese,” he whispered as he tangled his hands in her hair, his voice thick with desire.

  She slid her hands along his hips as she placed soft openmouthed kisses along his inner thighs. Feeling the heat of his skin on her lips and the flexing of his muscles beneath her tongue made her heat up all over. Teasing Trent had always been a thrill—when she could control herself enough to slow down, that is.

  She slid her hands up to his hips and slicked her tongue along his hard length. He sucked in air between gritted teeth. She loved seeing, hearing, and feeling her effect on him. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft and swirled her tongue over the tip, teasing and taunting and earning another needy groan from Trent. When she couldn’t resist him another second, she took him in her mouth, stroking him with her hand as her tongue worked its magic.

  “Reese, I’ve got to have you,” he pleaded, lifting her to him and stripping off her shirt.

  He sealed his lips over hers as they both kicked off their jeans.

  “We never” —she kissed him again—“make it to the bedroom.”

  “That’s” —he kissed her harder—“our love.”

  He swept one arm over the table and sent everything sailing across the room as he slowed just enough to gently lower her onto the table. He claimed her with a breathtakingly soft kiss as he pressed in deep, filling her with sharp pleasures that radiated through her core and exploded in her chest. His strength was overwhelming from the waist down as he drove into her, but his hands were gentle and loving, gliding over her breasts, sending more waves of pleasure through her entire body. His mouth—his hot, glorious mouth—caressed and promised, discovered and demanded, making her dizzy with need. And then his lips were on her breasts and his tongue was circling her sensitive, taut peaks as he kept up the strong thrusts.

  Shivers ran down her spine as her climax built, and when he moved one hand between them and raked his teeth over a nipple, the orgasm tore through her. Her hips bucked off the table as she cried out, “Trent, oh God—”

  He captured the rest of her words in his mouth, kissing her savagely and sending more currents of pleasure pulsing through her. Gazing into her eyes, he said, “I love you so much, Reese. I can’t get close enough to you. I want to become a part of you. Forever.”

  Reese wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, reveling in the magnitude of his forever and the feel of his hot, strong body against hers. You always have been, she thought as her heart danced to a frantic beat.

  And the way Trent gazed at her just then—as if he had read her mind—made her feel even crazier, and she pawed and groped him, kissing and nibbling at his skin. He knew exactly how to touch her in all the places that made her crave more as their hips came together time and time again.

  He buried his face against her neck, and the warmth of his breath coalesced with the scintillating sensations of his scruff against her tender skin, his hands, and the way he filled her so completely. She slammed her eyes closed as another climax gripped her and clawed at his back as his entire body flexed tight and they both tumbled over the edge together.

  * * *

  TRENT WANTED TO stay right there wrapped around Reese forever, but since the table wasn’t the most comfortable place in the world for either of them to lie on, he gathered her in his arms.

  “Let me run you a bath.”

  “For two?” she asked as he carried her toward the bedroom.

  “For two,” he confirmed with a smile that promised far more than just a simple bath together.

  She glanced down at their flushed chests and laughed as she said, “We’re always naked.”

  “I think that has something to do with being in love.”

  “Or being unable to keep our hands off of each other.” She laughed again. “But I’ll take the first option, too.”

  They were heading through the bedroom toward the bathroom when he noticed a package wrapped with a blue ribbon on the center of the bed. He stopped and asked, “Were you expecting a gift from someone…in your bedroom?”

  She shook her head, then motioned for him to put her on the bed and pulled him down beside her. Her hair was tousled from making love, her skin was still flushed, her neck and cheeks were pink from his whiskers, and she was gloriously naked. The fact that she didn’t try to cover up her body told him she was opening up to him and starting to really trust him, as well. The nervous edge she’d been harboring also seemed to have dissipated, and his heart soared.

  “After I came back to the island,” she said softly as she picked up the package and the note beside it, “I couldn’t help but do some of the things we used to do, like go to flea markets and look for your favorite things.” She lifted one shoulder and dropped her eyes, looking adorably shy as she said, “I think it was my way of still being close to you, and over the years I picked up a few things for you.”

  She handed him the note. “I thought about sending these to you more than once but then I worried that you already had them or whether you’d even want something like this from me.” She gave his hand a little squeeze and added, “I’m glad I didn’t. It’s so much better to be able to give this to you in person.” She gave him her own wicked little grin as she added, “Especially while we’re naked.”

  Trent read the note. Dear Trent, look at me.

  Confused, he lifted his eyes to Reese, who was grinning. “We said no more ‘Dear Trent’ notes. Only face-to-face communication.” She leaned closer and kissed him, before saying, “Dear Trent, I never stopped thinking about you. You were with me at every flea market, every craft show, and every walk on the beach over the past”—she lowered
her voice to a whisper—“ten years. I’ve missed us. Love, Reese.”

  Trent folded her in his arms, soaking in the love behind every word of the most beautiful note in the world. And as the words settled into place inside his mind—and his heart—he realized this new face-to-face note was finally replacing the memories of the one she’d given him the day she’d left New York ten years ago.

  He tipped her chin up with his fingers and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Thank you, Reese. I love you, too.” He couldn’t have asked for anything more.

  “Don’t you want to open your gift?” She handed him the gift, which he seemed to have forgotten about.

  “I can’t imagine what could mean more to me than the note you’ve just given me.”

  She was like a kid on Christmas day; her eyes lit up with anticipation. “Open it and see!”

  He untied the ribbon, and the wrapping fell away, revealing a stack of books. He stared down at the hardcover copy of Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson, and his throat thickened.

  “It’s a real first edition,” she told him as she opened the book to the title page and pointed to the publication date. “See? 1883. And the copyright page was left blank. I even looked for the errors on pages two and seven you told me about.” She flipped through the pages again. “‘Dead Man’s Chest’ isn’t capitalized.”

  “I can’t believe you found this, sweetheart. I’ve looked everywhere for it but could never find it.” Everywhere but a Rockwell Island flea market. “This must have cost thousands of dollars. You shouldn’t have done this.”

  “Don’t worry. I bartered for it with my art the summer after we separated.”

  The summer after they’d separated? A sharp pang speared his chest. How could he have been such a fool to wait so long to return to the island—and to Reese?

  “I can’t believe you bartered your work for me, after everything we went through.” He pulled her in close again and buried his face in her hair. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

  “You loved me.”

  And then, with that beautiful answer making his heart feel as if it might have grown too big for his chest, she bounced on the mattress, buzzing with excitement as she pressed her hand to the next book on the pile. “There are more!”

  She handed him a first edition of the The Call of the Wild and a copy of Where the Wild Things Are. “I remember when you took me to the tree house that you and your brothers and sister built, and you said that you hoped one day to bring your kids there and read them these stories. You said you loved the outdoors and that the island was the perfect place for kids to live out their dreams of living in the wilderness and becoming king or queen of it all.”

  He smiled with the memory. “My brothers and I used to spend nights in that tree house.” Their mother had found the giant tree that grew almost parallel to the ground, with branches reaching out like a giant hand, and she and their father had given them all the tools, and the guidance, they’d needed in order to build what would become the Rockwell children’s Inspiration Point.

  “You said that you and Derek used to take off at night to be ‘one with nature’ and that Quinn and Ethan thought you guys were nuts for venturing out in the middle of the night.”

  “That was so long ago. I’m surprised you remembered, and so glad that you did.”

  “How could I forget? You were so passionate about it.”

  “I was. It’s strange. In my twenties, I thought the only way to have a great life was to move off the island. I was so sure of it, when really, all I ever needed was right here.” He set the books on the mattress and pulled her in close again. “Those were such fun times. I’m really glad I’m back. Finding a cool tree in the woods in the middle of a concrete jungle would have been impossible, and I do want my kids to love the wilderness and everything nature has to offer.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, desperately wanting to say, our kids, but afraid that might be too much too fast and would scare her off just when she was beginning to really let him in. As he pulled her close again, he thought about how Reese wasn’t the naive girl she’d been all those years ago. She’d grown up, matured, figured out what she wanted and what she needed in her life, and all of those changes resonated in her confidence and her success. But her love was still just as intense, and as real, as it always had been.

  Just as intense, and as real, as his love was for her.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  EVERY MORNING TRENT awoke with Reese in his arms felt even better than the one before. And every night when they made love, then talked late into the night, sharing their hopes and dreams, was pure magic.

  And yet before they made any official plans to move in together, Reese kept saying she needed more time. Just to be sure.

  He was disappointed. Actually, it was far more than just disappointment. The thought of living without her again was brutal—something he didn’t want to even contemplate. He’d missed her so much over the years that he couldn’t get enough of her now. But he knew that just because he was ready to change everything in his life for her didn’t mean he should expect her to feel exactly the same way. Especially so soon. Come Monday morning, Trent was lamenting being apart from her all day after the incredible weekend they’d just spent together exploring the other side of the island, when a story in the newspaper caught his eye.

  “Maribelle Penner has a show today in Boston. Isn’t she one of your favorite artists?”

  Her eyes bloomed wide. “Yes. I can’t believe you remembered. What time is her show?”

  Trent scanned the article. “Nine to six.” He did a quick mental run-through of his to-do list for the resort and his legal practice and decided none of it was critical. Definitely not as important as Reese. “We should go. We can take the ferry and catch a cab to the exhibit.”

  “I was hoping to finish the lighthouse on the mural today. And what about your work?”

  “The lighthouse? My work? Is this the same woman who wanted more time together?”

  “You’re right,” she said slowly. “This is one of the things we were missing. But are you sure? I doubt your grandfather will appreciate you taking off on a Monday to go look at art with me.”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist. “First of all, spending time with you is far more important than anything else I have to take care of. And second, it turns out that Chandler is glad that we’re back together.”

  “He is? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I went to see your parents right after I spoke with my grandfather. I know it’s no excuse, but after the conversation I had with them, Chandler completely slipped my mind.”

  “Wiggle room,” she said softly. “It’s obviously not a huge deal that you didn’t tell me right away. I just don’t want us to fall back into our old habits of keeping things from each other. Especially such shocking things like Chandler actually saying he’s happy we’re back together. Now,” she said, smiling to let him know he was already forgiven, “tell me his exact words.”

  “It’s ‘about damn time’ that you and I are together again,” he said in a funny approximation of his grandfather’s gruff voice. “I think he’s going soft in his old age.”

  “Wow.” Her eyes were full of emotion as she said, “I always knew there was more to him than it seemed.”

  “You always did have a soft spot for him for some inexplicable reason,” he said with a wry grin, “but I never thought I’d see it myself.”

  “Well, even if he is going soft”—she rocked her hips against his and smiled that naughty little smile he’d always adored—“you’re definitely not. You know what?”

  He could hardly think straight enough to reply. “What?”

  “Now that I’ve thought more about it, I should blow off painting and you should blow off work so we can head to Boston. But first...” She reached for the buttons on his shirt. “We should deal with this lust thing we always run into when we’re out and about.”

  * * *


  THE FERRY RIDE was romantic and chilly, giving Reese the perfect excuse to snuggle closer to Trent. It had been tempting to stay in bed all day with him, but she knew this trip to Boston was an important one for both of them. Trent needed to show her that he could be spontaneous, and she needed to show him that big cities didn’t scare her anymore.

  They could have gone inside, but Reese loved the feel of the brisk air against her face, and she didn’t want to miss a second of the scenery. As the island fell away in the distance, the Boston skyline came into view, reminding her of when they’d moved to New York. Back then, she’d experienced a conflicting rush of emotions from the fear of leaving everything she knew and loved behind while also being excited to see what the future held. This time, however, as Trent tightened his grip around her shoulder and kissed her temple, there was only excitement. Because it was starting to feel as if her life was just beginning.

  Reese had traveled off the island plenty of times to go to the Cape, or to visit friends or her sister in Oregon, but she only went to the bigger cities like New York or Boston when she absolutely had to meet with gallery owners, for quick one- or two-day trips. Fortunately, any feelings that might have tried to filter in about being an island bumpkin who didn’t fit in with the “cool kids” quickly dissipated as she looked around the city and realized it was a beautiful, perfect blue-sky day. Children were holding their parents’ hands. Lovers were kissing on street corners. And the hustle and bustle suddenly seemed less chaotic and more full of fun and possibility. Even the air around them felt different from the air on the island, as if the energy of the crowd bound together and electrified it. After paying the cab fare, Trent draped a protective arm over Reese and his eyes darted along the busy sidewalk. She suddenly realized that he didn’t seem entirely comfortable on the crowded streets.

  How had she never noticed this before? She’d always assumed he was like a chameleon, able to fit seamlessly into any environment. But now that she thought about it, he sure seemed more like his old self and much happier on the island than he’d been when they’d lived in New York.