“God, I knew you’d be good, but I didn’t think it would be like this.” He groaned and stilled for a moment, pushing forward and swelling inside her before continuing with slow and steady thrusts.
Tears filled Ginger’s eyes. She wasn’t doing anything, just lying there, letting him do all the work, but it was so sweet of him to say so.
He kissed her cheek, and must have felt wetness there, because he stopped moving and lifted his head. “Hey.”
“It’s okay.” Her voice came out as a squeak.
“Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head, even though he couldn’t see her. “No, of course not.”
“You want me to stop?”
“No.” Jesus, the last thing a guy wanted was to have a girl crying the first time he took her to bed. “It’s lovely, that’s all. You’re lovely. I didn’t expect it.”
He waited a moment, then started moving again. “I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere.” He kissed around to her earlobe and tugged it with his teeth.
“There is. A very big compliment.”
“I’m glad.” He kissed back to her mouth and slid his tongue against hers while his hands skimmed over her body and down to her thigh. Lifting her knee, he moved her thighs higher around his waist, adjusting his angle so he plunged deeper inside her.
She stroked his back, feeling the muscles there tightening and relaxing as he moved. She wasn’t far from an orgasm, but as much as her body craved the pleasure, she wanted this to go on forever. This night, like a moment out of time, caught up in the darkness, filled her heart with a light she hadn’t felt for oh... so long. It’s just sex, she told herself, and just because he wasn’t Jack didn’t make him anything special.
But he was special. This was special. And she couldn’t deny, as he began to move faster, his body taking over from his obvious desire to go slowly, that he made her feel as if, after a year of unhappiness and sadness, maybe life was worth living after all.
“Oh, fuck,” he said, his fingers tightening on her thigh. His hot breath mingled with hers as their sighs turned to gasps. “Baby... oh God, come on. I want to make you come again.”
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, her muscles tensing deep inside.
“I won’t, I swear, come on, come with me. Fuck, that’s it, you’re mine now, come on, you’re fucking mine now, oh Jesus, you feel good... Sorry, I can’t...” He groaned and shuddered, his body hardening beneath her fingertips as his climax swept over him. She felt a surge of delight that he’d given in to his pleasure, unable or unwilling to control it, and that was enough to tip her over the edge.
They came together, filling the air with their sighs and gasps. Ginger dug her nails into his back and rode the wave, hanging on to it for as long as she could. There wasn’t such a thing as a bad orgasm per se, but the darkness and the rain and the man who’d taken her there made it into an experience she would never forget in a million years.
Sam rested his head on her shoulder, his body heavy on hers. She stroked down his ribs, enjoying the little aftershocks of pleasure that rippled through her, and experimentally tightened her muscles deep inside.
“Argh.” He lifted his head. “Stop it, you minx.”
“You feel so good.” She did it again, sighing with pleasure.
Mumbling something, he held the condom and withdrew, disposed of it, then rolled her onto her side and tugged her back against him. “Come here and behave.”
Smiling, she nestled into him, welcoming his arms around her. “Mmm. The rain’s slowing down.”
His warm breath swept across her neck as he exhaled. “’Bout fucking time.”
“I wonder how long it’ll be before the river recedes and you can sort out the bakery?”
“I’ll go down at first light and check it out.”
“I’m so sorry, Sam. I can’t imagine how you must be feeling. And poor George. He’s going to be devastated.”
“I don’t know how I’m going to tell him,” Sam admitted. She didn’t reply. How did you tell someone their livelihood—their whole history—had disappeared in one night? “I don’t want to think about it now,” he said, tightening his arms around her. “I just want to think about you.”
“That was the best sex I’ve ever had,” she told him.
He laughed. “Kind of you to say so.”
“I mean it.” Her voice was quiet.
He kissed her ear. “I’m nothing special, sweetheart. But if it’s made you realize there is life after the bastard, then I’m glad.”
She wanted to turn over, take his face in her hands, and tell him how special he was. That it wouldn’t have been the same if any other man had taken her to bed, she was sure. Because the best sex wasn’t about knowing which buttons to press in what order. Making love with Sam tonight had been amazing because it had involved more than their bodies—it had involved their hearts and their minds. At least, it had involved hers, and she hoped it had been the same for him.
He nuzzled her ear again. You’re mine now, he’d said to her just before he came.
He’d said it in the heat of passion. He almost certainly hadn’t meant it.
But it made her smile, anyway.
Chapter Thirteen
The next day, Sam opened his eyes to find bright sunshine streaming through the windows, falling across the bed like sticks of butter.
“Holy shit.” He rolled over, got up, and walked to the window. The sun beat down from a cloudless sky. Everything looked squeaky clean and brand new, from the shining flagstones in Ginger’s garden, to the gleaming fence, to the branches of the jacaranda tree that brushed the grass which seemed greener than usual.
“Jesus.” Ginger joined him, leaning on the glass. “Did I dream it all?”
“It’s amazing how it can blow over like that.” He gestured at the flattened patches of grass, the broken flowers, the pools of water at the bottom of the garden. “Wasn’t a dream, though.”
Would the bakery still be three feet under? He felt oddly reluctant to go down there and assess the damage.
He’d thought often about just walking away those first six months after he’d come home, returning to the cruise ship, and never coming back. He’d loved life on board ship, and he missed the freedom, the adventure. He’d had no responsibilities, other than making sure he got up on time to work his shifts. And he’d laughed when friends or colleagues had talked about problems with their love lives, finding it difficult to understand why everyone else seemed to have so much trouble with relationships when his seemed so easy. He’d lain awake at night, thinking about the good times he’d shared with Alyssa and his other friends, full of nostalgia and sadness, and he’d come close several times to calling the cruise line and asking for his old job back.
But then he’d met Ginger, and now they’d slept together, and, like taking flour and yeast and all the other ingredients and baking them in the oven, his life was inevitably going to change, and he wouldn’t be able to undo the transformation. She stood beside him, her arm brushing his, staring out across the garden. He looked down at her. She’d brought the duvet with her, and clutched it in front of her breasts with one hand like a Greek goddess, but her shoulders were bare, her blonde hair, ruffled from where his hands had threaded through it during their lovemaking, gleaming with coppery tones in the sunlight.
Alyssa had been like a fine white wine, he thought, like a light and sweet Riesling, or a Gewurztraminer. Refreshing, palatable, and completely what he’d needed at the time.
Ginger, however, was like the Syrah that Mac made up at the vineyard—spicy and peppery, full-bodied, packed with flavor, just like her name. And even though she’d abhorred her controlling ex, Sam knew instinctively that a relationship like the one he’d had with Alyssa would never be on the table with Ginger. She might not realize it, but she was like the sun streaming through the windows—intense and blinding. When she was around, he couldn’t see anything else. He’d burned for her since the first moment he�
��d laid eyes on her. He’d thought sleeping with her would put the flames out, but instead it had only fed the fire. He wanted her more now than before he’d slept with her.
Was he ready for this? For settling down, going steady, a mortgage, marriage, kids? The life being offered to him flashed before his eyes in a series of images as if he were eighty years old and they were memories he was looking back on. Once, he’d been convinced that sort of life would never be for him. The thought had been distasteful—had even verged on frightening. He’d been one of those guys who’d flinched at the word commitment. Had he changed that much?
Ginger looked up at him, her green eyes meeting his. As if she could sense the thoughts going through his head, she didn’t smile, just studied his face thoughtfully. Christ, she was beautiful. He couldn’t understand it. She didn’t look unlike Alyssa. He liked blondes, and they were both a similar height, pretty, and with curvy figures. Ginger maybe carried a few more pounds than the slimmer-hipped Alyssa, and she had a fuller, poutier mouth, but that didn’t explain why his pulse was pounding, and why he was growing hard at just the thought of kissing her again.
Her gaze slid down his body like a satin sheet, rested on his erection for a moment, then came back to his face. She still didn’t smile, but there was a touch of surprise in her eyes, and her lips parted as she obviously read the passion in his.
Sliding a hand beneath her chin, he lifted it to tip her head back, then lowered his mouth to hers.
Last night, he’d deliberately taken it slow, but now heat surged through him, making his blood race through his veins, his heart thunder. Tilting his head to capture her lips, he pushed her up against the wall, enjoying the feel of her soft body pressed to his. She moaned and opened her mouth to him, and he plunged his tongue inside, not bothering to hide how much he wanted her.
All the thoughts he’d been having, about the bakery, about Alyssa and his job on the cruise liner, about what the future held, they all fled his mind, as his desire for the girl in his arms went supernova, engulfing them both in white-hot heat.
He needed her, God how he needed her. He wanted to be inside her, up to the hilt, and fuck her right here, against the wall, but he wanted her to be ready, so he tugged away the duvet and tossed it on the bed, kissed down her body, and fell to his knees before her. Lifting one of her legs to wrap around his shoulders, he moved one hand beneath her to part her folds and, without a second’s hesitation, leaned forward and slid his tongue into her soft skin.
Ginger gasped and tightened her hands in his hair, but she didn’t push him away, so he licked and sucked, teasing her with long brushes of his tongue followed by short flicks of the tip, until his hand was wet with her moisture. He slipped two fingers into her, curving them and gently massaging there while he aroused her, and only when her breathing changed and she began to shudder and gasp did he remove his fingers and push up to his feet.
Leaning across to the bedside table, he retrieved one of the condoms she’d left there, and within seconds he’d removed the wrapper and rolled it on. Then he turned her so her back was to the glass, lifting her so her bottom rested on the waist-high sill. She squealed, so he guessed the glass was cold, but she didn’t complain.
This time they were bathed in sunlight, and he could see every feature on her face, the tiny mole above her lip, the smooth skin around her eyes not yet marked by wrinkles, the amber flecks around the edge of her green irises. She still looked surprised, her eyes wide, her lips parted, but she opened her legs and wrapped them around his hips, so he decided to take that as encouragement.
Guiding the tip of his erection into her, he steadied himself and then pushed slowly forward.
“Fuck,” she said, and let her head drop back on the window as she closed her eyes.
“Is that a suggestion?”
She laughed. “A demand, if you like.” She opened her eyes again, staring into his, her cheeks flushing a pretty pink.
“Yes, ma’am.” Keeping his gaze fixed on hers, he held her tightly and began to move.
“Oh God.” She locked her ankles around his back, holding him tightly to her, gripping the sill with one hand while she clasped the back of his neck with the other.
He’d tried to go gently the night before, to slow things down, to romance her and prove to her that warmth and feelings lay beneath the passion, but her soft slick body welcomed him inside her, and her hot mouth tempted him to kiss it, and he couldn’t hold back his passion this time, it was just impossible.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, leaning one hand on the window and gripping her hips.
“Oh Sam... you won’t... that’s so... oh...” Her eyelids fluttered.
He gave in to his urge to thrust, and plunged into her, right up to the hilt, long, deep thrusts that had her moaning in seconds. Jesus, that felt good. The sunlight poured over him, warming him all the way through. He could smell strawberries, possibly from Ginger’s hair, making him feel for a moment as if it were summer. The air filled with the sound of him sliding into her, so erotic he had to struggle to hold onto his self-control. In between hot kisses, he kept his gaze fixed on hers, and he was able to see when her orgasm took her, when the flush spread across her cheeks, when her eyes drifted shut and her lips parted, and finally when she held her breath and then tightened around him in short sharp clenches.
Fuck, she was so beautiful. He slowed his pace, enjoying watching her, drinking in her pleasure, and kissed her nose, her eyelids, her mouth, as she sighed and shuddered and whispered his name. A few more thrusts, and he came himself, and he could feel her eyes on him, as he reveled in the glorious, primal feeling of claiming his prize.
When his eyes eventually drifted open, Ginger was smiling.
“Morning,” she said.
He laughed. “Morning.” He withdrew from her and then pulled her into his arms. “Sorry about that.”
“God, don’t apologize. That’s the best wakeup call I’ve ever had.”
He smiled, stroking her back, and kissed her forehead. “I couldn’t help myself. You look so gorgeous this morning. Like a winter nymph.”
“I have far too much weight on my hips to be a nymph,” she said, “but thank you anyway.” She moved back and kissed him. “Want a cuppa? I think the electricity is back on.”
“Sure.”
“I’ll tumble dry your clothes. They should be ready in half an hour.”
He put on her bathrobe while she pulled on her pajamas, and then followed her out. She put his clothes in the tumble dryer in the laundry room and switched it on, then led him into the kitchen and put the kettle on.
“Want some toast?”
“Please.”
She put a few slices in the toaster and began preparing the mugs.
Sam moved up close, wrapped his arms around her, and slid his hands beneath her pajama top, onto her warm skin.
“Mmm.” She leaned back against him, sighing as he moved his hands up to her breasts and brushed her nipples with his thumbs.
“Thank you for last night,” he said, kissing the crook of her neck. “You didn’t have to come down to the bakery. It was good of you to do that.”
“I’m just sorry we couldn’t do more. Maybe if I’d come earlier...”
“I don’t think it would have done any good. It was already a foot under by the time I arrived.” He rested his chin on her shoulder as she spooned coffee into the plunger. “I’m not sure how much of the equipment is going to be recoverable, and the whole site will need drying out. I just hope it hasn’t affected the structure too badly.”
“The insurance will cover it, won’t it?”
“It should. I don’t know how long it will take to get it all sorted out. I’m going to be out of business for a while.”
Ginger poured the hot water into the plunger and stirred the coffee. “You could always work out of the restaurant.”
“What do you mean?”
“You wouldn’t be able to produce the same sorts of quantit
ies, I know. But we have plenty of space. You could make use of our ovens and still supply bread, at least, for some of the local businesses.”
“It’s a lovely thought,” he said, “but I couldn’t do that.”
“Why?” She added milk, then turned and gave him his mug. He took it and leaned a hip on the counter, facing her.
“I expect I’ll be too busy organizing the repairs, for one. And a lot of my business is walk-in.”
“Yeah I get that. I just thought it might be helpful for you to carry on in some manner rather than close completely. You’ve just won the Bay of Islands Gold Food Award, Sam. People are going to want to come and see your products. It’s the worst timing in the world, but that doesn’t mean we can’t salvage something out of it.” She sipped her coffee.
His lips curved up. He liked her use of the word ‘we’. “I’ll think about it. At the moment, though, I can’t get past what needs to be done on site. Part of me doesn’t want to go and see.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
They studied each other while they sipped their drinks.
Waking up with a woman wasn’t a common occurrence for Sam. Even on the cruise ship, when he’d spent the night with Alyssa, nine times out of ten he’d returned to his own cabin before morning because it was easier that way. And he hadn’t dated since he’d come home. He wasn’t used to the morning-after issue, and he wasn’t sure what to say.
“Don’t worry,” Ginger said. “I’m not going to go stalker-girl on you or anything.”
“What made you say that?”
“You looked scared,” she said.
He reached out and cupped her cheek. “I’m not scared, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, well. I’m just saying. Last night was... special.” Color touched her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. “But I know it was born out of the moment. It was like... a part of the storm... our emotions were running as high as the river. It was fantastic. But I don’t expect anything.”
“Are you trying to tell me to get the hell out of your house?”
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