Heron's Landing: The Complete Series

by Iris Morland

  Wanting to turn the tables, he swung his feet up on the nearby ottoman and said lightly, “How’s Jaime?”

  A blush crawled up her cheeks instantly. His sister was many things, but stoic about her crush on his executive chef and friend? Never.

  “He’s fine, I’m assuming,” she said, looking anywhere but at Adam. “Why are you asking me?”

  He snorted. “Are we really going to play this game?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, and it’s late. I need to go home.” Grace stood up, almost leaving her phone. She turned and grabbed it before she got to the front door.

  “You know, Jaime’s single. You could always ask him out yourself instead of waiting for him.”

  Grace froze, her hand on the doorknob. Seeing her stiff posture, Adam felt guilty again, teasing her like this. Her crush on Jaime Martínez was a secret everyone knew. But he didn’t have to tease her about, either.

  Her voice was tight when she said, “It doesn’t matter. He’s never seen me as anything but your little sister.”

  Before Adam could reply, she opened the door, stepping out into the night. He’d known she had a crush on Jaime, but the pain in her voice surprised him. Was it more than that? More than a young girl’s crush? And then he felt instantly stupid, because Grace wasn’t a teenager anymore. She was a grown woman with a grown woman’s feelings. And he’d teased her like her feelings weren’t more than skin deep.

  He tipped his head back and sighed. That was another apology he’d have to give. Maybe when he was eighty-five and retired he’d be able to stop insulting every woman he come into contact with.

  WHEN ADAM GOT to Joy’s door, it was almost ten o’clock. The sun had since set, and Mike had closed down the store hours ago. The town was deserted—no one stayed out past sunset anyway—and he felt a little like a stalker coming to her at this hour. Even though she was expecting him, and he hadn’t exactly invited himself over in the first place. His fist against the door, he hesitated. Maybe he could do this tomorrow? Tell her he had an early morning tomorrow and that his little sister was a brat for texting her?

  That was when the door swung open, and Joy stared at him with a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

  He cleared his throat. “Hello,” he said lamely.

  Dressed in tiny pink pajama shorts and a gray tank, her purple hair pushed back with a headband, Joy looked like she’d been about to go to bed. At the thought of bed and Joy, Adam almost groaned. Just because he wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled didn’t mean he didn’t also want to kiss her. Again. And again. All over, in fact.

  “How did you know I was here?” he then asked, when she just stood there.

  “Anyone with half an ear could hear your tromping up those stairs. Do you have bricks attached to your boots?”

  He glanced down at his sturdy boots, sans bricks. “I was just walking.”

  “You probably caused things to fall off the shelves in the store downstairs.” When he just looked at her, she sighed. “Fine, come in. If you must.”

  Joy shut the door behind him, walking toward the kitchen. If Adam were a better person, he wouldn’t stare at her pert little ass as she walked. He wouldn’t think about how she’d moaned in her throat as he’d kissed her. So instead, he set the bottle of white wine on the counter and began looking for glasses.

  “I don’t know what the hell macaroons or Macarena’s or whatever are,” he said as he pulled out his always-at-the-ready bottle opener to uncork the wine, “but I did bring white wine. Like you asked.”

  She blinked, but said nothing.

  He shifted on his feet. She’d asked for wine, so he’d brought it. He did own a vineyard, so he had a steady supply of the stuff. “Do you have wine glasses?”

  As if coming out of a daze, she said, “Oh, yeah. Right behind you, in the left cabinet.”

  After pouring them both a glass, he drank the Pinot Grigio—dry, slightly fruity, one of their better bottles within the last few years—and gazed at Joy over his glass. How did a guy go about apologizing without making things worse? He had a tendency to rile this woman more than anything, no matter what he did or said.

  “This is really good.” She swirled the wine, smelling it. “I was kidding about the wine, but now I’m glad you took me seriously.”

  “I’m always serious about wine.”

  She looked at him, wrinkled her forehead. And then she laughed. “Was that a joke? Or at least an attempt at one? I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  “I’m a man of many layers.”

  “Clearly.” She continued sipping her wine, watching him.

  Adam hoped that them bantering again meant she’d already forgiven him, and the cowardly part of him would’ve rather said nothing and left it all stuffed under the metaphorical rug. But he wasn’t a kid anymore, hoping the bad things would just disappear. He set his glass down on the counter.

  “Look, I wasn’t planning on coming over here, but since I’m here, I should apologize.” When she just waited, he had to restrain himself from squirming. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. It was unjust and uncalled for, and I apologize.”

  He knew he sounded stiff, but talking about how he screwed up wasn’t his strong suit. He then watched as her throat moved as she swallowed her wine. His skin prickled at the movement: it was such a subtle, yet oddly alluring movement. Or maybe he was merely fascinated with how smooth her throat and neck looked. He wanted to stroke his fingers down the slope to her shoulder, kiss her collarbone.

  “I’m not going to say that I’m not still mad at you, because you were an ass to me. But I appreciate your apology nonetheless.” She sipped her wine.

  He rocked back on his heels. “So you forgive me, or?”

  “An apology given doesn’t necessitate automatic forgiveness from the wronged party,” she replied, as if reciting a line from a book. “But I’ll get there. The best way you can show you’re sorry is to change your behavior.”

  He couldn’t help it: he smiled wryly. She was such a spitfire that he couldn’t tell if he wanted to kiss or shake her more. Maybe both at the same time.

  “You always this honest when people apologize?”

  “I’m always honest, all the time, with all people.” She grinned widely, showing straight white teeth. “But don’t think an apology doesn’t go a long way to getting back on my good side.”

  “Well, I’m glad I haven’t totally wasted my time here.”

  They gazed at each other, the kitchen island between them. Adam had missed this—this bantering with Joy. They hadn’t known each other for long, but she brought something out in him. Whether it ended up being a good or bad thing was yet to be seen. He was also honest enough with himself to know that he was extremely attracted to her and wanted her in his bed, while another part of him remained convinced he wasn’t ready for another relationship. Not after Carolyn had died so tragically, and then everything that had happened afterward.

  Joy was so different from Carolyn that he couldn’t reconcile the attraction to her. Then again, maybe that was why it had happened in the first place. Joy was colorful where Carolyn had been neutral; sharp and forthright where Carolyn had been diplomatic and kind. But Joy had her own beauty and intelligence and wit that made him want to know more about her. Why had she come to Heron’s Landing in the first place? Who were her parents, where did she go to school, did she prefer dogs or cats, was she all sweetness and light in bed, or did she prefer things hard and fast and dirty?

  At that last thought, his groin tightened, and he took a sip of wine to distract himself. Unfortunately, that just added to his slight buzz from before, and he had to stop himself from reaching out to Joy and kissing her senseless.

  As if detecting his mood, she set her wineglass down on the counter, stepping toward him. She was of average height, but he was tall enough that she had to tip her head back slightly to gaze up at him. Her breasts rose and fell, and when he saw that her nipples were tight bu
ds beneath her thin tank, he bit back a groan.

  “Why are you here?” she asked. Her voice, he noted, was breathy. Breathy like when he’d kissed her by the creek.

  “To apologize. Which I did. Apologize, that is.”

  “I think you came here for other reasons, though.” She touched his chest, her hand above his heart. “Did you? Come here for other reasons?”

  Yes, he wanted to say. I came here to see you. To hear your voice, see you smile, and to kiss you again. Toss you over my shoulder and fuck you until you saw stars.

  Instead, he covered her hand with his and said in a low voice, “If you want, I can show you.”

  He cringed inwardly—was he some cheesy romance hero wearing a cape saying shit like that?—but her eyes brightened. She nodded an eager little nod.

  That was all he needed. Tangling his hand in her hair, he bent down and kissed her.

  9

  When Grace had texted her to tell her brother was coming by, Joy had imagined slamming her door in his face and laughing maniacally at his shocked expression. Maybe after she’d tossed her water in his face, or stepped on his foot, or kicked him in the shins. Something completely immature yet wholly satisfying. Joy hadn’t kicked anyone in the shins since Marcus Terrell in fifth grade, and damn if she didn’t want to see the same look of shock on Adam’s face as Marcus’s.

  But all of her plans of shin-kicking went out the window when he’d shown up, looking delicious and apologetic. He’d even brought her wine. He’d seemed to be trying, and damn if she wasn’t easy for a man who tried to right his wrongs. Maybe that made her weak.

  As Adam kissed her, though, Joy couldn’t find it in herself to care.

  He kissed her like a man in a desert who just found an oasis, a man desperate for companionship, a man who wanted her more than any man had ever wanted her in the history of the universe. Joy had kissed a number of men—some good, some bad, some great—but this? This couldn’t really compare. It was even better than that kiss down at the creek. This one wanted to strip her bare and force her soul out of her body.

  It was, in a word, terrifying.

  Adam tasted like wine and he kissed like a fiend. His hand cupped her ass and kneaded it with his giant hands, and Joy shivered. Her hand was still pressed against his chest, and she felt his heart pounding underneath her palm.

  Suddenly, he picked her up and set her on the kitchen counter, knocking her legs apart and standing between them. Only her thin pajama shorts and his jeans kept them apart, and she could feel his erection pressing against her.

  “That’s better,” he murmured. “I was getting a crick in my neck.”

  She smiled as he kissed down her throat. “We wouldn’t want that.”

  “No, because I plan on kissing you for a long time.”

  Joy had to admit it—she was a kiss whore. She loved being kissed and loved kissing. Some men enjoyed it, while others did it because they knew they had to before they could get anything else. Jeremy had often gotten impatient with Joy’s love of make-out sessions, while she always wondered what the damn hurry was.

  But Adam? He took his time. God, he did. Tipping her head to the side, Joy sighed in absolute bliss at the feeling of his lips sliding down her neck. His beard stubble scraped the delicate skin; his teeth nipped the curve between her neck and shoulder.

  “I’ve wanted to kiss you again since that night at the creek,” he admitted. His hand moved up her tank top, caressing the small of her back. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  The words seemed almost like a confession forced out of him, like he’d wanted to stop thinking about her but by God, he hadn’t had a choice. This man, who loved being in control—what did it do to him to desire a woman who drove him crazy? Joy smiled a little at the confession. She had to admit, she loved that she made him ache. He deserved it, considering how much she’d wanted him all these weeks.

  Adam slowly lowered the strap of her tank top, and Joy pulled her arm through. He didn’t lower it further, though, but instead, kissed her shoulder, the inside of her elbow. She felt like her nerves were electric, buzzing and jumping at every caress. If he wanted to take her right now, she’d be ready. She scraped her nails through his hair, and he shuddered.

  “Adam, Adam, kiss me,” she said. She wouldn’t think about how out of breath she sounded, or how desperate. She wiggled against him. “You’re killing me.”

  “Good.” He nipped her wrist then stood. Cupping her cheek, he kissed her, his tongue delving into her mouth. “I want you to beg me to fuck you. I want to hear you say how much you want me.”

  She laughed; he bit her bottom lip. “Why am I not surprised that you like to play the dom in bed?” Pulling away slightly, she pushed his cotton t-shirt up and over his head. She sighed in sheer pleasure, raking her fingers through the hair on his chest. He was well muscled, tan from the sun, and she traced a finger down the center of his abdomen.

  That was when Joy realized he had a small tattoo on his left pectoral. Squinting, she saw that the black blob was actually a…rose? “Mr. Proper has a tattoo?” She traced the ink, looking up at him. “Who would’ve thought?”

  “It was a long time ago. When I was dumb and young.”

  “Well, now you gotta tell me about it.”

  He took her hand away from the tattoo, and, in one swift movement, pulled her tank top over her head. “Later.”

  Then he bent her backward over his arm, taking a nipple into his mouth.

  Joy moaned, long and low. He licked at the nipple, swirling it around in his mouth. His mouth—hot and relentless—played with her until her hips bucked against him.

  “Fuck, Adam,” she said on a sigh. “Your mouth should be criminal.”

  He bit her nipple in punishment, and she let out a yelp. But the bite of pain only intensified the pleasure as he sucked her into his mouth. He then moved to her other breast, and Joy’s body prickled at seeing the nipple, red and wet with his attentions.

  “You’re so sweet,” he muttered against her breast. “I want to lick you all over, taste every inch of you.”

  “Oh God, please do.”

  He laughed low in his throat.

  If Adam Danvers were anything, it was a man who kept his promises. He kissed her belly, swirling his tongue in her belly button, and spanned her waist with his hands, stroking the sensitive skin there. She wiggled a bit, ticklish. Normally she was a bit self-conscious about the slight curve of her belly, but as Adam nipped and licked and kissed her? She didn’t care. She was awash in pleasure, completely unconcerned with how she looked.

  She barely noticed he had his hands hooked into the elastic of her pink pajama shorts before she felt the cool rush of air as he pulled them off. They were going to go there, were they? Joy laid back on her elbows and watched as Adam watched her. His eyebrows rose as he kneeled, but then he stood back up again. He picked her up, and she yelped.

  With little ceremony, he carried into her bedroom and tossed her onto the bed. Pulling her toward him as he kneeled on the floor, he murmured, “Much better.”

  Joy had to agree. The counter sounded sexy, but really, her butt had been starting to hurt.

  “Hey, as long as you’re comfortable,” she said prosaically. And then she yelped again when he bit the inside of her right thigh. “What is it with you and biting?”

  “If you’d hush, I wouldn’t have to.”

  “Oh, it’s my fault? Typical man. Always blame—ooooh my God.”

  He kissed her on her mound, and she could feel the heat of his tongue against the cotton of her underwear. She knew she was wet already, and her body buzzed and her limbs shifted against the bed sheets. Her entire world focused on his mouth on her. She pushed against him, but he pushed her back down again.

  “Patience,” he said.

  Joy moaned and groaned. She had half a mind to kick him, but as he peeled back her underwear, she forgot all about injuring him. The feeling of his fingers parting her, the cool air brushing against
her folds, and the heat of his breath coalesced until she could only work toward release. Her heart pounded and her sex pounded in time with her heart, her blood heating. She knew she was flushed all over, and she didn’t even care.

  Then he licked her.

  “Ah, I knew you’d be just as sweet down here.”

  She made a noise that was part moan, part squeal. She’d be embarrassed, but she was too far-gone to care now.

  Her previously whining libido? It was singing with joy now.

  He licked through her folds, tracing them with the tip of his tongue. Teasing her into a frenzy. Did he have to take his sweet time? She lifted her legs and set them on his shoulders, digging her heels in an unspoken command.

  But Adam wasn’t one to listen, and he enjoyed her, licking and lightly sucking. Joy threw an arm over her eyes, her hips lifting in supplication. She was so close already, so close, if he’d just move…up…slightly…

  That was when she felt him push a finger inside her, slowly thrusting in and out of her body. Her breathing increased.

  “Joy, look at me,” Adam commanded.

  She moved her arm away, her eyes opening. She looked down as he fucked her with his fingers, his eyes dark, a slight flush on his cheeks. The sight of his finger disappearing inside of her, his tongue licking her and laving her? She had half a mind to burst into tears. What was he doing to her?

  “Adam, Adam, Adam.” She chanted his name like a prayer. She dug her heels harder into his shoulders, probably bruising him. He inserted a second finger, and then finally placed his mouth on her quivering clit. Her entire body jolted. He sucked, curving his fingers at an angle, and it only took a few more thrusts for her body to dive into complete and utter bliss.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Jesus Christ.” Joy didn’t even know what she was saying anymore. But when he sucked her clit one last time, her body erupted, her orgasm filling every inch of her body. Her legs shuddered and a cry fell from her lips and he kept sucking and thrusting and driving her insane, the orgasm lengthening until it was almost painful.