by MK Meredith
She grabbed handfuls of his hair, not sure how they got there in the first place but needing a solid hold on something before she lost her footing. Without warning, the hand wrapped around her back dropped low and he lifted her against his chest until she wrapped her legs around his waist.
The heat of his body scorched her legs, and the hard length of him pressed home against her center, sending mini-pulses of pleasure through her body. His hand slid from her face into her hair, and he gripped hard.
He was unrelenting and her body rejoiced in each grab, caress, and slide of his hands against her. For so long, she’d been living a dormant life. A shell of who she used to be. But since meeting Ryker, she felt alive. Part of that was the urgency to save the Cape, to do something good in memory of her son, but another part of it was this giant of a man holding her as if she were nothing more than a feather.
She’d tried to resist the soft heart he’d shown toward Maxine, the kindness in working with his bees, the haunted look in his eyes when he remembered the scared little boy he used to be. But each day, each moment with him was making it more difficult.
Three steps took them out of the lowbush and onto the soft grass. He lowered her to the ground, following right along until the weight of him pressed home. She let out a ragged groan, reveling in the feel of his body between her legs and his hands on her breasts.
Trailing kisses along her jaw, he suckled her earlobe, then moved on to the sensitive skin along the side of her neck.
“Fuck. You feel…so damn good,” he rasped out on a groan.
He settled his hand on her thigh then slowly trailed up, the rough calluses of his fingers causing goose bumps to scatter across her skin and proving he was much more than a paper pusher. With her leg drawn up, he continued his journey, cupping her exposed cheek from the hem of her shorts. His fingers slid around the globe, making her suck in a breath every time they traveled close to her center.
His mouth found hers once again just as the tips of his fingers struck home in a light, slick stroke.
She reared up against his hip. “Oh God.”
“You’re so wet for me, Larkin. Do you feel that?”
He continued stroking her, sliding his fingers along her folds, then dipping just the tip of two inside.
“Ryker!”
Teasing his tongue along hers, he tasted, savored, then sucked in her lower lip, never once slowing his light strokes against her flesh.
Her body tightened with a familiar, coiling need that she vaguely remembered and at the same time had never known. One hand gripped his shirt and the other tufts of grass, trying to find stability. Trying to keep from falling.
“Come for me, Larkin. Give me something good to hold on to in this place.” His whisper was ragged against her ear as he grazed his teeth along her lobe.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and poured herself into kissing him with every ounce of passion she experienced beneath his fingertips. “I’m here.”
Her body trembled and strained against his hand as her desire peaked and waves of intense pleasure crashed over her body. She pressed her lips against the rapid pulse in his neck, silencing her scream until she could breathe once again.
“Christ, woman.”
She dragged her lips against his neck to the stubble on his chin, finding his delicious mouth once again. He was the ocean and the whole night sky all wrapped in one overwhelming man.
As her body settled and breathing calmed, her brain cleared. His words registered with a crash back to reality. A reality that included her falling in love with a man she had no right to even care about.
She kept her arms wrapped tightly around him, afraid of what it meant when she let him go.
All he wanted to invest in was the future when she found true value in the past. Why the hell her heart didn’t understand that was beyond her.
She couldn’t be what made him feel good on the Cape because no matter how painful his past was to him; her past was where she found her joy.
His kiss had brought her to life, but saving the Cape would keep her living.
Chapter 11
She ran.
It didn’t matter how many days went by or how Ryker went over it in his head; the result was the same. Larkin had run.
And it cut deep.
Not only had she taken off after what was the hottest make-out sessions he’d ever had, but she'd also left a damned thank you note and preserves from Janice’s garden on his doorstep sometime Monday afternoon.
Her little drop-and-dashes were becoming a habit.
Coward.
He grumbled under his breath as he hauled a bucket of salt water from the North Cove waters onto the bow of the sailboat deck. His grandfather’s boat had been docked for the past year without any upkeep, and since he could do little about the stay on his property—for the moment—he could do something about the sorry state of the teak deck.
A good scrubbing would let him see how many teak plugs had popped out and what condition the compound was in between the planks. Maxine had started cutting back and trimming down on maintenance of the property before Ryker had even signed the dotted line, and it showed.
He scowled, grabbing the bucket and pouring a bit of the salt water onto the decking. The gray, dirty wood gave him a good outlet for his restlessness.
Surely the way he’d been feeling since Sunday had everything to do with the progress he wasn’t making with his project and not the hot, raw need he experienced every time he was around Larkin or the fact she’d practically run to her car after their little excursion in the blueberry bushes.
Grabbing a stiff brush, he scrubbed back and forth over the teak. He worked on one section at a time, adding salt water then scrubbing, again and again. His shoulders burned and his back ached but it was better than the tight urgency to call Larkin.
When they’d gone out to pick blueberries, his heart warred with the pain on her face as she spoke about the loss of Archer and the punch of desire in his gut as she’d bent over in those damn shorter-than-should-be-legal shorts.
But he’d held it together until she’d pushed him, until she demanded that he focus on what made him feel good on the Cape.
Her responsive body under him had sure as shit felt amazing.
But her running away had not.
Once again, he didn't measure up in some way that he wasn’t meant to understand. Like why his grandfather didn’t leave him the Cape and what had made James beat him in the first place.
Fuck. He hated the feeling of inadequacy. He was a goddamn successful businessman who had conquered the most challenging city in the United States.
This was why he should have never come back here. Why he had to separate from the Cape once and for all.
Shaking his head, he attacked the teak with vigor. The burn in his arms would make him forget everything else.
Like the honey still sitting by his damn front door. For the past two days, every time he passed it he’d think of how Larkin had tasted, the silky slide of her skin, and had to fight the urge to take it to her so they could do it all over again.
It was more than her fragile beauty. He couldn’t stop thinking about the stubborn lift in her chin when he challenged her, the passionate spark in her eyes when she taught him about a rare butterfly, or the way she pulled her shoulders back instead of crumpling to the ground like he imagined she’d rather do when speaking of her son.
He slammed the brush back into the bucket, splashing water in a wide arc.
“Whoa. What the hell’s wrong with you?” Mitch jumped back, though his deck shoes still took a hit.
Ryker kept scrubbing. “How’d you know I was out here?”
“It’s Cape Van Buren. News travels fast when the town hermit ventures away from his cave.”
“How the hell am I the town hermit? No one even knows me here anymore.”
Mitch rested a hand atop a stanchion. “Exactly. Name one time you’ve been downtown since arriving? It’s going to b
e mighty hard to convince the judge you have Cape Van Buren’s best interest at heart when you won’t even go to town.”
“Goddamnit.” Ryker tossed the brush to the deck then grabbed the bucket and rinsed the area he’d scrubbed.
“Did you hear what the hell Maxine did to me with the judge last week?”
Mitch started laughing, making Ryker want to punch the humor from the dick’s face.
Raising his hands, his buddy rolled his eyes. “Get that look off your face. You have to admit, your grandmother’s brilliant. My mom and Evette were howling about it over some blueberry and poppy moonshine.” He smacked his lips. “Damn fine.”
“Great. Glad you’re all having a fucking ball. It’s all fun and games until my investors back out and you’re out of a job.”
Mitch cleared his throat. “Yeah, about that…”
A heavy weight settled in Ryker’s gut. If they pulled out, he’d be screwed. Van Buren Enterprises had already sunk a shit ton of money into surveying the project and acquiring licenses up front. “What now?”
“They want to meet at the end of the week. And we better have some good news.”
Ryker wiped his brow with the back of his hand. The summer sun chose today to be relentless and scrubbing the deck wasn’t helping. Grabbing the hem of his t-shirt, he pulled it over his head then threw it on top of the forward hatch.
“This day’s just getting better and better.”
Mitch stared past Ryker’s shoulder. “It’s certainly looking up from where I’m standing.”
Ryker turned to find Larkin walking up the dock toward the boat. The bottom of her sundress played peek-a-boo with her thighs in the wind, and she had on the same flip flops from her last visit to the Cape. Why the hell he’d noticed that was beyond him. He raked his hand through his hair.
There was more color in her face since he’d first met her, a bit of a glow that hadn’t been there before. She smiled, then her eyes fell on him and she stutter-stepped a bit. Suddenly, eye contact seemed impossible and the smile on her lips appeared strained.
He glanced down at his bare chest, then back to her. Good. He was glad it made her nervous. Payback for his immediate hard-on and the twisted feeling in his gut.
She focused on Mitch as she stepped aboard. “Hello there, gentlemen.”
Mitch stepped forward in all his golden boy glory and took her hand.
“Thank you,” she said.
His buddy rubbed a fist over his heart, holding her gaze with a look Ryker wouldn’t trust if his life depended on it. “My pleasure.”
Yeah. Yeah. Move over, Casanova.
Ryker stepped between them, forcing Mitch back to his original position.
Larkin held his gaze with a hard swallow. “Hey.”
He nodded once. “What are you doing here?”
Her eyes scanned over his features, leaving him to feel more naked than if he’d taken off his pants instead of his shirt. “I thought I’d check with you about that honey for Maxine.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, restraining his smile as her eyes dropped to his biceps. It soothed his soul somewhat to see a familiar need there. “Have you considered my question?”
Green eyes flared wide. “Question?”
“About the Cape. Our discussion. The chance of you reconsidering.”
A look of comprehension relaxed the crease in her brow and a hint of something he remembered as hope settled home in his chest.
But then she shook her head. “I thought we were just talking. Sharing. I didn’t think you were serious.”
“Why wouldn’t I be serious?” He couldn’t help that his voice was rising. He’d never felt as misunderstood as he did back in his hometown.
Mitch stepped forward. “Ryker.”
Placing a hand to his forearm, she licked her lips then glanced over to Mitch and back. “I thought you understood. I have to do this.”
The sensation from her hand on his skin fanned out as quickly as his hope died. He stepped away. Deep down, he wanted to yell and cuss and demand she get the hell off his boat, but one thing life in New York had taught him was how to keep a level head. How to remain logical, unattached, and devoid of emotion when it came to business.
He dipped his chin. “The honey is where we left it. Door’s open.”
Squatting back down to the deck, he grabbed the brush in a tight grip.
She hesitated, the smile on her face wavering with what looked like hurt. Giving a small wave to Mitch, she made her way back off his boat. Away from him. Again.
Having her around tied him in knots but watching her leave tore him in two. He was wicked fucked.
Shoving his thoughts away with ruthless determination, he ignored Mitch and focused on the deck.
If she wouldn’t reconsider, then he’d simply find a way to make sure he was awarded the rights to his property. He had to step up his game. Uncover the judge's weak point, what appealed to him and the town. Ryker wasn’t successful in business because of his good looks.
He was fearless and tireless, and it was time to bring those traits to the Cape.
The North Cove Mavens and their honorary sidekicks bent their heads together to look at the plan Janice had drawn up. Larkin nudged Blayne until she moved over and gave her a little more room as Maxine pointed to a bush sculpture of a peacock with its feathers decked out in different colored pansies.
“Those South Cove Madams won’t know what hit them when they get a load of this,” she said.
Larkin reached up and tucked the chic silver hair behind Maxine’s ear to reveal her face and looked her in the eye. “But we can’t underestimate them. We have creativity on our side but they have logic on theirs.”
“Harrumph!” Evette crossed her bony arms across her chest. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail and she was sporting deep red lips that rivaled Blayne’s. “They may be logical but we see in color.”
Blayne nodded her head. “Agreed. But they are really good at keeping their emotions in check and their moves deliberate.”
Janice threw her arms up in the air, her red curls bouncing. “Deliberate? Deliberate? You don’t call this deliberate?”
“Mom, where can I set these?” Mitch Brennan walked up with four bags of potting soil loaded in his arms. His blond hair glinted in the sun as did his biceps in the heavy summer heat.
Blayne cleared her throat. Mitch looked at Larkin in surprise. “Hey there, Ms. Sinclair.”
“Are you kidding me with that right now? I just saw you.”
He glanced around, shifting from one foot to the other. Why the hell he’d be nervous made no sense to her at all, but she had enough to worry about with Ryker.
Turning to his mother, he asked. “Mom?”
Janice waved him toward the garden’s edge. “Over there. Thanks, sweetie.”
Evette, Maxine, Larkin, and Blayne watched as he made his way across the lawn. His muscles bounced and bulged in a way that any woman with a pulse could appreciate.
Janice chuckled. “Anyway, ladies. We’re creating an ostentation of peacocks, a bird that stands for integrity and beauty. Exactly what you’ll find in the Mavens.”
That snapped them out of Mitch’s man-muscle spell.
“Not to mention, nobility and holiness,” Evette added with a rapid nod.
Larkin watched her friends out of the corner of her eyes, overcome by the rush of love that helped warm the cold hollow space in her chest that was a constant companion. She pointed at the arm flapping and vigorous nodding between Janice and Evette. “Yeah. This is what I’m talking about. You Mavens are a passionate lot. Which is not a bad thing, but—”
Maxine grinned. “You Mavens? Please, you talk like you aren’t from the north side. But you got that right. I’ll have you know Teddy is quite the master in—
Larkin and Blayne covered their ears, chanting, “La la la la la!” The last thing they wanted to hear was anything concerning Maxine’s sex life with the Judge. Besides, it was a bit
demoralizing that her friend had more sex these days than she did.
To her credit, up until two days ago, it had been over two years since she’d been touched in general but a lifetime of ever being touched the way Ryker had touched her.
Those hands. Holy shit. A shiver shook her shoulders.
She still couldn’t believe she’d run away.
How.
Mortifying.
It had all come down to self-preservation and a need to stay focused on the Cape. Something he made increasingly difficult with his appealing dark gaze and that kissable mouth. The thought of his taste sent a spiral of sensations through her body and deposited them on her lips. Both pairs.
She pressed her mouth into a tight line to ease the tingling reminder.
But she was a big girl and had promised Maxine to get the honey.
And then forgot.
So she’d faced him today at the marina.
In all his dark and bronze glory. There was no doubt his shoulders were wide, but to see them stretched out over his chest while he was working…his very well formed, very well filled out, mounds of muscled—
“Larkin!” All four ladies shouted.
“What?!” She shouted back with a jump.
Blayne laughed. “I don’t know where you just disappeared to, but wherever it was, you liked it.” She pointed to the deep red flush over Larkin’s chest and neck.
Ignoring her friends, she looked over the garden plan for the festival. They only had four days left to create their wonderland of botanical masterpieces and rumor had it the South Cove Madams were pulling out all the stops this year.
She grabbed a small green, plastic tube, added a smidge of flower food, then topped it off with water. Settling on a grouping of purple pansies, she removed a couple with their roots intact and slid them through the cross-slit of a rubber lid. With the lid snapped into place, she studied it with a critical eye. Every individual flower cluster they created would be used to represent the colors in a peacock's feather. And, thanks to Janice, they had every color under the sun—if they could keep Maxine from stealing them for her moonshine.