With Tate, she was fairly certain they slept exactly like this for the last few hours. And she didn’t want him to let her go.
Well, okay, maybe she wanted him to let her go because she had to pee, but that was so completely unromantic and right now should be all about sweet, romantic thoughts.
Or hot and sweaty, sexy thoughts. That had loads of potential . . .
“I can literally hear you think,” Tate murmured against her neck.
Just before he kissed it.
She shivered from the touch of his warm lips on her skin. “What do you mean?”
“You’re trying to figure out a way to slip out of bed without waking me.”
Unbelievable. “It’s really scary how deeply embedded you are in my brain.”
He chuckled, his breath tickling her and making her duck away from him. “I’ve got you figured out. Somewhat.”
“You do realize you’re touching me in an . . . inappropriate place.” He brushed his fingers against her nipple when he removed his hand from her breast, and she barely repressed the shudder that took over her. “Can I ask you a question, Tate?”
“Whatever you want to know. I’m an open book.”
She was so incredibly glad they weren’t facing each other. She wouldn’t want him to see her face, to look into her eyes. Though with their bodies pressed together so intimately, it was already fairly awkward. She was pretty certain that was his rather aggressive erection nudging against her lower back.
“Are we really going to do this?” She spoke in a whisper, her eyes falling shut when he drifted his fingers along the column of her neck before he pushed her hair away.
“I think we are.” He kissed her nape again, his mouth lingering. “But just know that I’m willing. Whatever you want, I’m yours.”
Temporarily, she almost added but didn’t. She needed to live in the here and now, not worry about the past or freak out over the future. There was plenty to freak out over. Adding worry over Tate and whatever they were doing to the mix wouldn’t be smart.
But she was attracted to him. Yes, fine, she wanted him badly. It didn’t help that he was wrapped all around her and his mouth was on her neck, her weak spot. Oh, he just nibbled on her skin, and wow, that felt so good . . .
“Turn around,” he demanded, his voice soft.
Reality intruded, and she shifted out of his arms, trying to get away from him. “No way. I have serious morning breath.”
“Come on. It can’t be that bad.”
“It’s worse.” She slipped out of bed and stood, turning to study the man whom she’d just spent the night with, yet they didn’t do anything. Oh, he was so gorgeous it almost hurt to look at him. His dark hair was a disheveled mess and sticking up everywhere. His eyes were heavy lidded and sleepy looking. There was scruff on his cheeks and jaw, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt, so all she could see was acres of smooth, male skin stretched over muscle. “I should brush my teeth.”
He patted the spot she just vacated, his smile inviting. “You should come back to bed.”
“No.” Wren shook her head and walked backward, glancing over her shoulder to make sure she didn’t trip over anything. “I need to brush my teeth and start some coffee. You should get up and brush your teeth too.”
Hopping out of bed had nothing to do with her teeth or getting coffee. It just felt like everything was happening so fast. She needed to put the brakes on it. Get some distance. Gain some brain cells back before she did something really crazy. Like strip naked and jump him.
“You’re no fun.” He pouted, which was adorable. And she never thought a man who pouted, even in jest, was adorable. But somehow, Tate pulled it off.
“I’m lots of fun. If you’re lucky, I’ll show you exactly how much fun I am.” God, she hoped she could live up to her own personal hype.
“I’ll take you up on that.” He grinned and climbed out of bed, allowing her a good look at him in his boxer briefs and nothing else. They left little to the imagination, and yep, he had a semiserious case of morning wood happening. “Quit gawking, and go brush your teeth,” he teased.
She scurried out of his bedroom before she could say or do something stupid.
Like tackle him to the ground.
Chapter Eleven
THEY STARTED OUT the afternoon running a few mundane errands—she needed to go to the post office to temporarily forward her personal mail to the dance studio, and Tate wanted to stop by the hardware store for a few things. They joked around and he helped take her mind off the disaster that had become her life. He was sweet and kind, and she wondered at first if he had an ulterior motive until she finally realized he was just . . .
Being himself.
It was dangerous, hanging out with Tate, running errands like they were a real couple and living a life—together. They so weren’t. Yes, they were attracted to each other and might end up messing around with each other, but come on. They hadn’t even kissed yet. What was he waiting for?
What are you waiting for?
“Where are we going next?” she asked after they got back into his SUV.
He flashed a secretive smile in her direction before returning his attention to the road. “The lake.”
She gaped at him. “The lake? Why?”
“First, it’s hot as hell today, and I wanted to cool off. Second, you need to do something fun to take your mind off the shit you went through lately. And third, I want to see you in a bikini.” His grin was wicked when he said that last bit.
“But I don’t have a bikini,” she said, her head spinning. He wanted to see her in a bikini? Of course he did. He’d had his hands all over her this morning before, like an idiot, she’d leapt out of his bed and ran away like a chicken. Something would’ve happened. Something momentous that she’d been too scared to face.
But Tate acted like it never occurred. He’d been easygoing the entire day, never bringing up their extremely close and potentially awkward moment in bed earlier.
Now she sort of wanted to talk about it. Or explore it further.
Okay, fine, she totally wanted to explore it further.
“I have one for you.”
She stared at him. “You have a bikini for me?”
He nodded.
“Where’d you get it?”
“I bought it.” He shrugged, sending her another quick look. “When you were at the post office? I went to that little clothing store next door.”
Oh. God. She shopped there often. Did he know her size? What if it didn’t fit? What if it exposed too much skin? What if—
“Stop worrying. You’re going to look great, and you’ll have fun. I promise. We’ll hang out at the beach and swim for a little while, and then we’ll go grab lunch,” he said, his words shutting off her overactive brain.
Well, not quite. She still couldn’t stop wondering why he would’ve bought her a bikini. Or how she might look in it. Or that she’d feel exposed in front of him, and she didn’t want to do that. He made her feel exposed enough when she was fully clothed.
In all honesty, he made her feel lots of things she didn’t understand, and that left her confused. Always with a look or a joke or a smile, he seemed so at ease around her. So nice. And she’d been nothing but awful, like some sort of weird defense mechanism to push him away.
Instead here they were. Together. Not together together, but still. She was staying at his house. He bought her a bikini. He’d wrapped himself around her in his bed while she slept there wearing only his T-shirt.
Everything had just turned . . . frighteningly weird between them. In a good way.
In a very, very good, very, very confusing way.
She didn’t want to like him. She didn’t. So . . . why did she? Because she was in a vulnerable place and he was being so kind?
Her mouth curved into a frown, and she averted her head, staring out the window and watching the world pass by. She hoped he didn’t pity her. That he was being so nice only because she had nowhere else to go, w
hich wasn’t necessarily true. She had plenty of friends who’d take her in. She could go back and live with her parents.
Her frown deepened. No. Not her parents. That would be the worst.
He pulled into the lake’s day-use parking lot a few minutes later, handing over a shopping bag that didn’t have much in it after he shut off the engine. She took it with a hasty thank-you and ran to the bathroom to change in one of the shower stalls. Pulling the bikini out of the bag, she admired the pretty, brightly colored floral pattern and was grateful it wasn’t made out of string.
Once she got the swimsuit on—oh my God, was she thankful she shaved and recently had a wax—she glanced in the mirror and realized it fit her perfectly. And that Tate had included a cute black cover-up dress she could toss on over the bikini.
He thought of everything.
She exited the bathroom to find Tate waiting for her outside, sunglasses covering his eyes, wearing a pair of tropical print board shorts and nothing else, a bag at his feet stuffed with a couple of beach towels. She tried her best not to stare at his chest, but . . .
She stared at his chest. Gaped at him, really.
Grinning, he grabbed the bag’s handles and slung it over his shoulder. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” She snapped her lips shut to keep from drooling. “Thank you for the bikini. And the cover-up. What do I owe you?”
He shook his head and started walking to the lake. She fell into step beside him. “You don’t owe me anything. It’s a gift.”
“But you’ve already done so much,” she started to protest but he shut her up with a look.
Oh, and with the way he grabbed her hand and interlaced their fingers together. “Stop. Just take it graciously, and say, Thank you, Tate.”
“Thank you, Tate,” Wren said, her voice soft, her fingers tingling from his touch.
She could get used to this sort of treatment.
And that was a scary thought.
TATE TRIED NOT to stare. Really, he did. He was doing his best to be a proper gentleman and be respectful, but damn, it proved hard when Wren tugged the cover-up off over her head and exposed her glorious body. He’d checked her out before, of course.
But this time it was just the two of them alone at the lake, Wren wearing a bikini he bought for her and looking hot as fuck.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. Kept it over his mouth for a few seconds so he wouldn’t say something stupid, like, Fuck me standing, you’re gorgeous. Or, Hey let’s forget all this foreplay bullshit and go back to my place. Worse, he was tempted to say something desperate and lame, like, Can I just touch you? Please?
Yeah. None of that would go over real well. Not with Wren. He felt cautious around her. Like with every progressive step they made, they ended up taking a few steps back. All because he said or did something stupid.
“You coming in?” she called from over her shoulder.
Tate glanced up to watch her head toward the water, her hips swaying gently, her perfect ass barely covered by the bikini bottom. He tore his gaze from her ass because staring at it too long could cause problems. Like, a-tent-in-the-front-of-his-board-shorts problems.
Jesus. He really needed to get a grip.
He followed after her without a word, the cool water splashing around his legs not doing much to cool his heated libido. She’d already dived smoothly into the water, submersing herself completely before popping back up less than a minute later. She smoothed her hair away from her face, water droplets clinging to her eyelashes as she blinked at him, a little smile curving her lips. “This was a good idea.”
“I’m glad you approve,” he said before he dunked under the water. She said something else, but he couldn’t make it out, her words muffled by the water. He stayed under for a while, opening his eyes to see her legs churning, the bright red nail polish on her toes. He noticed everything about her, every little detail, and it was starting to make him realize something.
He had a . . . thing for her. A thing that wasn’t going away anytime soon. And he wanted to know if she could possibly have a thing for him too. Could she? Could she let down her walls and let him in? Not fight him every step of the way? Most of the time he didn’t even know what they were arguing about. He was over it.
But he definitely wasn’t over Wren.
“Are you part merman or what?” she asked when his head emerged from the water. She scowled at him, like she was pissed, and his defenses automatically went up.
Damn it, he didn’t want to spend today like this.
“Why do you say that?” he asked as he slowly swam closer to her. He didn’t want to startle her, but he was this close to hauling her into his arms and shutting her up. Kissing sounded like a lot more fun than arguing.
“You were underwater for so long. I, um, got worried.” She shrugged one bare shoulder, the water slipping over her skin, and he discovered it was possible to be jealous of water.
Unbelievable.
“You worried about me, Dove?” He treaded water right in front of her, wishing they weren’t so deep. He’d rather be standing when he kissed her, but he could make do if needed. “I’m touched.”
“You should be. The last thing I need is you drowning on my watch.” A smile teased the corners of her perfect lips, and relief hit him hard and swift, nearly taking his breath.
Good. She wasn’t mad. She wasn’t going to put up a fight. This was going to be a good afternoon. A progressive afternoon. That’s what he wanted. What she needed.
“On your watch, huh?” He raised a brow, reaching out and streaking his fingers across her shoulder. She jumped a little, moving away from him, but he just followed. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one taking care of you?”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can, but right now, you’re on my watch.” He grinned when she frowned. “Come on, Wren. Throw me a bone here. I’m the big bad firefighter who’s come to your rescue. Let me live my fantasy, if just for a little bit.”
She laughed, the joyous sound ringing through the air. The lake wasn’t too busy. It was a weekday, and not many people came to this beach since it was mostly frequented by the Wildwood locals. They were pretty much alone, with the occasional boat or Jet Skier passing by.
“You have a hero complex?” she teased.
He scoffed. “Of course I do. Why do you think I work this job?”
Her laughter grew. “I figured you tried to drive women crazy in your uniform.”
“Do I drive you crazy when I wear my uniform?”
The laughter died. Her expression grew serious. “You drive me crazy when you wear just the board shorts.”
His mouth went dry.
“Or when you sneak into your bed and I’m already in it.”
His entire body went stiff.
She shook her head, the movement making the water ripple around her. “I should’ve never admitted that.”
“I’m fucking thrilled you just admitted that.” He moved toward her, stealth-like and smooth in the water, until he was directly in front of her. He stretched his legs downward, testing where the bottom might be, and was relieved when he actually touched the slightly slimy ground. “I thought I only drove you crazy when I opened my mouth.”
A surprised burst of laughter shot from her lips. “You always have your mouth open.”
“I know.” He smiled. “I could never figure out what I did wrong.”
“Did it matter to you that much?”
“It mattered, Dove. You mattered. Your opinion of me.”
She looked adorably confused. “Why?”
“Because I like you. And I think you like me too.” He reached for her. Slipped his arms around her waist and tugged her in. She didn’t fight, didn’t protest, just went willingly, her hands automatically going to his chest, her fingers sliding across his skin and sending a scattering of hot sparks through his blood.
“I don’t really like you,” she said, the words feeling like an automatic response.
/>
“I don’t believe you.” He slipped his fingers beneath her chin and tilted her face up. “Be truthful with me.”
She blinked up at him, little droplets of water clinging to her cheeks, and he wiped them away, his thumb lingering on her soft, soft skin. “I don’t know what’s happening,” she whispered.
“Me either.”
“You scare me.”
His thumb went still. “In a bad way?”
“No.” She shook her head. “In a confused, sexually frustrated way.”
It was his turn to laugh. “I think that’s a good thing.”
“You do?” Her brows scrunched, and he traced the curve of her cheek, the point of her chin.
Tate nodded. “The best possible thing,” he murmured just before he leaned in and kissed her. The softest, gentlest kiss. Nothing too pushy, though he wanted to push. He wanted to plunder and taste and conquer and bite and lick.
Instead he pulled away, his smile growing at the dazed look on her pretty damp face. “You want to race?” he asked.
He’d confused her now. “What?”
“Let’s race to the floating dock and back.” He nodded toward said floating dock, which all the teenagers crowded onto during the weekends. “Loser buys the winner dinner.”
She sent him a shrewd look, one full of mysterious, unsaid things. “You’re challenging me to a race?”
He nodded.
“The girl who grew up with three of the most competitive brothers in all of Wildwood.”
Uh-oh. “Yeah,” he said, the uncertainty in his voice distinct.
She grinned. Out and out grinned and thrust her fist into the air. “I’ve got this. On three?”
“Sure thing,” he said and, with a deep breath, started to count.
Wren was gone by the time three slipped past his lips. And she never looked back either. He launched after her, swimming as fast as he could, but he could never catch up to her.
He sincerely hoped that wouldn’t be a regular thing.
Chapter Twelve
“ARE YOU HUNGRY?”
Tate’s deep voice penetrated her thoughts, and she glanced up, flashing him a small smile. “Starved.”
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