Going Deep (Coastal Heat #1)

by Maggie Wells

  “Oh, well, don’t let me keep you.” She feinted to the right, knowing he was arrogant enough to try to block her. He did, and she ducked to the left, cutting a wide swath as she passed him. Unfortunately, the aisle wasn’t wide enough for truly evasive maneuvers.

  He caught her arm, preventing her from making a clean getaway. His mouth quirked into a derisive smirk when he spotted the package of dried noodles in her hand. “You know, I’d love to take you to dinner, Brooke. If you’re craving spaghetti, we could go to Mariano’s.”

  “I’m afraid she already has dinner plans.”

  Surprise and a sharp surge of feminine indignation stiffened her spine, but before she could tell them both to piss off, Brian took the package from her hand, scanned the label, then pressed a quick, possessive kiss to her lips. “Perfect. Thank you.”

  Stunned into momentary submission, she blinked up at him as he gently dislodged her arm from Jack’s grasp. “You’re welcome.”

  Brian flashed a television-worthy smile at the other man then stepped around him. “Good to see you again, Jack.”

  They’d made it three steps when Jack called out to her, “Brooke, sugar, is your mama still fond of apple tarts from Weston’s Bakery?”

  Her steps faltered and she slowed to glance back at him. She didn’t need to look at Brian to see his frown. Tension was rolling off him in waves. Still, she couldn’t resist batting the thread Jack dangled. “Yes. Why?”

  He shrugged and wafted a smile so innocent it made alarm bells ring in her ears. “Oh, I was thinkin’ I’d order one to bring with me when I come for supper.”

  She blinked and the smug grin on his face managed to wipe her brain blank. “Supper?”

  His gaze flickered to Brian then back to her. “Your mama did say I was welcome anytime.”

  She stiffened, knowing he was telling the truth. Emmaline loved Jack, and she made no bones about it. But her mother didn’t know about Brian. Nobody knew about Brian. Yet. And, damn it, she liked it that way. She wouldn’t be railroaded into sharing him before she was ready.

  Rolling her shoulders back, she wafted a sweet smile in Jack’s direction. “Well, you can’t go wrong with an apple tart. If I don’t get a chance to talk to them first, give Mama and Daddy my love and tell them I’ll see them in a week or two.”

  “But I—” Jack gawped like a large mouthed bass. “Your mama said you’d be there.”

  “Oh, Mama,” she said with an airy wave. “She thinks she’s the only one with plans.”

  Jack scowled. “Oh. Well, maybe another time.”

  “Doubt it.” Beaming beatifically, she waggled her fingers at Jack then tucked her hand into the crook of Brian’s arm. She saw amusement and a tinge of wariness in Brian’s dark eyes, and she squeezed his arm. “I’m starving. You ready to head home?”

  Warmth flared in his eyes, chasing away the shadows. “Yeah,” he said gruffly. “Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

  ****

  Brian smiled as he swirled the contents of a pan with a practiced turn of his wrist, but he said nothing. He liked listening to her. Loved following the facile twists and turns of her thought process. Fell harder and harder for her every second she spent debating with herself and winning each and every round.

  “I’m talking too much, aren’t I?”

  “No, keep going. I did all the talking yesterday.”

  The wine he’d poured was cool and crisp, but the man standing in front of her barely-used stove was smoking hot. She watched in rapt fascination as he added the garlic he’d minced to the mixture. “You babbled. They should have named you Brooke. You’re a good interview subject.”

  He turned to face her full-on. “For you.”

  Heart dancing a rumba against her ribcage, she cradled the wineglass in both hands as though the gossamer-thin glass could protect her from his penetrating stare. But she had no defenses left where he was concerned. “This is nuts.”

  Brian inclined his head in subtle acknowledgment of the statement, but the gleam in his eyes made it clear he disagreed. She launched into opening arguments, not allowing him to utter one word. “We hardly know each other, Brian.”

  “We’ve known each other most of our lives.” He dropped his gaze and turned back to the task at hand, lowering the flame under the pan and reaching for his own glass. The golden wine shimmered when he raised his glass in salute. “And these have been the best two days I’ve had in a long time.” Arched eyebrows challenged her to dispute his assessment. When she didn’t respond, his sly smile spread. “Maybe the best since graduation day.”

  A niggling itch at the base of her skull plagued her. “Maybe we should talk about our next moves.”

  Brian threw pink shrimp into the bubbling butter and garlic mixture. “Next moves?” The smile he wore intensified as he lifted the lid from a pot of water he’d brought to a boil. “I’m hoping the plan includes showing me your mildew-free bed with the real mattress and the soft sheets,” he said as he dropped a handful of pasta into the gurgling water. “After, I’ll need you to help me map out a campaign to finagle a standing invitation to Sunday supper with your folks.”

  Hypnotized by his easy grace, she stared enthralled as he moved from sink to stove to fridge. Tearing her gaze from his high, firm ass, she wet her lips. “You want to have dinner with my parents on Sunday?”

  “I’m supposed to have supper with mine this Sunday, but…” He turned and met her eyes directly. “I want to be the guy who uses the extra place setting.”

  “You are. He was being a jerk.”

  “As always.”

  She slid from the stool and made a beeline for the open bottle of wine on the counter. “This Sunday dinner probably won’t be a good time to have company. I gave my notice at The Courier today.”

  If she shocked him, he didn’t show it. He didn’t respond right away. As a matter of fact, he didn’t respond at all. Brooke watched him intently, nerves twisting her stomach into knots and anticipation tickling the back of her throat.

  “I’m going to… It’s time to make the move.”

  Setting the slotted spoon he’d been using to stir the pasta aside, Brian gave the shrimp a practiced toss before wiping his hands on a dish towel and turning the full force of his focus on her. “Good for you.”

  “It could be a disaster.”

  “It won’t be.”

  “It took me three years of making peanuts at the paper to be able to afford to move out of my parents’ house.” She wrinkled her nose. “I may never be able to sell a story. Freelancing is a big risk.”

  “It is, but you will. And they won’t be fluffy interviews of washed-out television stars or puffed-up politicians.” He reached for her hand, but just held it loosely. “You said you’ve had offers from online outlets. People obviously like your stuff. You have the credentials to do whatever you want to do.” He gave her gentle squeeze then pulled it to his lips. “I’m proud of you. Excited for you.”

  The second he released her hand, she grabbed her glass and gulped a slug of wine. It slid cool and sweet down her parched throat but pooled in her belly, warmed by his certainty. The scampi sizzled as she peered at him over the rim of her glass. “Are you trying to burn my dinner?”

  “I’m building a house on the island,” he said simultaneously.

  Her hand trembled as she lowered the glass. The base clinked against the Formica counter top, but she managed to release it without knocking the damn thing over. Flicking her tongue over her lips, she forced herself to meet his gaze. “Congratulations.”

  Brian didn’t back down. On the contrary, he killed the flame under the pan and took a step closer to her. “You can stay at my place.”

  She quirked a brow. “You’re going to rent a room to me?”

  “As long as you don’t mind sharing a bed.”

  What precious little oxygen she had snarled in non-functioning lungs. Caught in the depths of his eyes, she grappled for a handhold. His fingers closed around hers and she blu
rted the one coherent thought she had left. “Way too fast, Brian. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the Sunday dinner thing.”

  He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Not saying today or tomorrow. Just…it’s possible one day.”

  “When you talk next moves, you go all in.”

  “I see no point in wading when I know I’m going under.”

  “Brian—”

  Her unspoken plea hung between them, but his grip held fast. “Letting you know you have options.”

  His word choice made her laugh. Considering the wellspring of intense emotion he stirred in her, something as simple as an option was unfathomable. Every second she spent with him seemed utterly imperative. “Doesn’t feel like an option.”

  “No, but it is.” His answer vibrated with reciprocation. He leaned across the narrow island and brushed a fleeting kiss to her lips. Before she could respond, he pulled away. “Hungry?”

  Her stomach roared its answer, but she shook her head in adamant denial. His eyes twinkled with amusement and a sexy smile started at one corner of his mouth. “Dinner was only the first of my promises.”

  * * * *

  Brian scowled as he lifted his wine glass. “You’re not eating.”

  She was perched on her kitchen counter with a mixing bowl of fragrant pasta in one hand and an immovable object between her legs. Him.

  Of course she wasn’t eating. And food was the last thing on her mind. She couldn’t stop thinking about a bed she’d never slept in, in a house she’d never seen. Didn’t he know the guy was supposed to be the commitment-phobe? He tossed out the bit about her living in his house as if he were offering her a bite from his plate. Then he let it go. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she couldn’t stop thinking about how gorgeous he looked stretched out beneath her or the relentless, delicious weight of him pressing down on her. How was she supposed to eat when he was standing in her kitchen staring at her over the rim of his glass? Why would she want scampi when she could lick cool, fruity wine from his lips?

  One thick eyebrow arched. “I burned myself cooking for you.”

  The note of petulance in his voice was just the ticket for breaking the spell. “Aw, poor guy. Where does it hurt?”

  “Here.”

  He stretched his arm, showing off the faint pink mark inside his wrist. Brooke soothed it with her fingertips then kissed the spot. “Better?”

  “A little.” A faint frown bisected his brows. “You didn’t like it?”

  Brooke set the bowl aside, took his chin in her hand, and turned his face to hers. “Brian.” Soft brown eyes met hers, and she had no choice but to take what she wanted. She kissed him tenderly, smoothing her palm over his rough cheek. “Brian,” she whispered, stroking his lower lip with her thumb.

  He pressed a kiss to the pad of her thumb. “What?”

  She smiled, feeling smarter than she had in a long, long time. “Nothing. Just Brian.”

  This time, she took the kiss a little deeper and a lot slower. She framed his face with her hands and finished the kiss with a loud, wet smack. He blinked and she beamed. Wriggling to the edge of the counter, she butted her forehead against his shoulder, urging him to step back. A giggle escaped her as her feet hit the floor.

  Brian’s eyes widened in wary surprise. “What? What’s so funny?”

  “I’m happy. That’s what happy sounds like.” She pulled him back to her, smiling as she pressed her mouth to his. He kissed her back. Hungrily. Passionately. The kind of kiss a girl dreams about getting from a guy. The kind that makes her greedy for seconds and thirds. She wanted enough of his kisses to fill her to the brim.

  He stumbled back. The next thing she knew, they were on the kitchen floor, a tangle of arms, legs, lips, and hot, heavy breaths. Grasping his shirt, she rocked back to look him dead in the eye. Big mistake.

  The one look was all it took. Heart hammering and blood hot, she threw her leg over his and pushed him flat. She straddled him, grinding against him shamelessly.

  “Brooke.”

  He gasped her name. A drowning man, pleading for air. Damn, it made her happy. She laughed again, peppering his neck and jaw with hot, wet kisses. “Happy.” She attacked the buttons on his shirt. “I’m so happy.”

  Brian laughed, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. “I’m glad, but we’re on the kitchen floor.”

  “So?” She separated his shirt and ran her hands greedily over his pecs.

  He cupped her ass, pressing her close to him and grinding against her as he voiced his token resistance. “Lord knows the last time this floor was cleaned.”

  She raised the hem of his t-shirt. “Don’t think about it.”

  “You promised me clean sheets.” Brian’s voice was husky. He ducked his head, trying to get to her throat.

  “Don’t be such a girl.” She tugged on the shirt, urging him to raise his arms. When he resisted, she began unbuttoning her blouse giving him a tantalizing view of the white lace bra beneath. “I’m happy here. I’m happy with you.” She parted her blouse, letting it slide slowly from her shoulders as she let her head drop back. “So happy.” He gathered her hair in his hands and she moaned softly. “Don’t you want me to be happy?”

  “More than anything.”

  “And I want you.” She ran her fingers down her throat, letting them trail between her breasts. “Here. Now.”

  She tugged his shirt over his head, but that was the last time she had the upper hand. Brian’s hands were everywhere, fisted in her hair one moment, squeezing her against him the next. He cupped her breasts reverently. His thumbs scraped over lace and she shivered. He spread one broad palm over the small of her back and leaned in to press his lips to the hollow of her throat. He ducked his head and captured one lace-clad nipple in his mouth, sucking deeply.

  “Now,” she whispered, reaching for the button on her pants.

  “Let me.”

  Brian yanked at the zipper and she laughed, tickled by his impatience. He pushed them over her hips, skimming her panties off with them. She wiggled the rest of the way out of her pants and reached for his belt again.

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “What?”

  He lay back on the floor, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Come here.”

  “Bad boy.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “I bet I do.” She nipped at his chin and jaw. “I bet I have a very good idea.”

  “You should by now.” He urged her up. When her eyes met his, she could swear she saw the waves of heat shimmering between them. “Though, I have to tell you, I’m coming up with new ideas all the time.” His fingertips bit into the curve of her hips. His biceps bulged as he pulled her higher.

  A frission of anticipation raced through her. Biting her lip, she straddled his head. “Don’t forget what they were.”

  “I won’t,” Brian promised as she opened above him. He lifted his head and brushed his lips across her inner thigh. “I can’t believe we’re doing this here.”

  Wearing nothing but her lacy bra, Brooke smiled down at him. “At least it’s not broad daylight.”

  “Oh, God.” He looked up at her boldly. “Keep talking.”

  She gasped as he began to lick her gently, teasing her with his tongue.

  “Mmm, delicious.”

  He ran his hands over her smooth bottom and she let her knees slide farther apart, planting her hands on the floor above his head.

  “I love this.” He nuzzled the crease of her thigh, teasing her with his hot breath. “I could live on nothing but you.”

  He unhooked the front clasp of her bra, brushing the lacy cups aside with impatient flicks of his hand.

  “Yes, oh, yes.” She writhed in his hands, desperate to get away, aching for more. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to tamp down the rising tide of need building inside her. “Stop. Stop!”

  She yelped the last, but he held firm, unrelenting.

  “No. I don’t want to stop.”

 
“I want you inside of me.”

  He groaned long and loud, the tremors of his want reverberating through her. “I want to taste you when you say my name.” He kissed the soft curve of her belly then nuzzled her. He looked up at her, his face raw with desire. “Then I want to be inside of you.”

  She knew she would give in. How could she not give in?

  “Let me.”

  “Brian.” It was a sigh of submission. He hummed his approval as she sank down onto him once more.

  He pressed his mouth to her again and drove her up with long, slow flicks of his tongue. Just when she thought she had the rhythm, when she thought she might be able to handle the churning, burning need he stirred in her, he gripped her roughly and brought her closer to him. She lost her mind, moaning and panting his name as he stroked her hard and fast, taking her over the edge with ruthless precision.

  She rode the waves of pleasure he sent hurtling through her, lost in a release that left her oddly needy still. He continued to stroke her with his tongue as she slowed. Her breath hitched when she heard the rasp of his zipper. She glanced down to find she was still undulating against him though he’d abandoned his hold on her to open his pants.

  Brown eyes met hers, unapologetic and delightfully determined. “I love to watch you.”

  He shoved pants and boxer briefs over his hips. She glanced back in time to see his erection spring free—long, thick, and so hard her mouth watered at the sight of him.

  “So beautiful.” He murmured the last against her still-tingling flesh. “I have to be in you now.”

  “Yes.” Brooke pushed back, stretching her aching legs as she slid down his chest. The blunt tip of his erection nudged her damp curls. She kissed him slow and deep, drawing her own arousal from his tongue. “Condom,” she rasped when they parted, breathless.

  “Got it.” He rolled her over, his jeans bunched around his thighs. Lost in a daze, she watched as he plucked the package from his pants and made quick work of sheathing himself. She swallowed hard as he slid his arms under her back. “Floor’s hard.”

  “So are you.”