Bayside Heat (Bayside Summers Book 3)

by Melissa Foster

  When she finally collapsed beneath him, gasping her way through a thick haze of pleasure, his lips curved into a smile she’d never seen on him before. It was so serene, it felt like she was privy to a secret. She barely had time to process the thought before his mouth came lovingly down over hers, breathing life back into her spent body. She groped at the waist of his jeans, trying to push them down, needing to feel his cock in her hand, on her body, buried deep inside her.

  He captured her hands in his and rose up, shadows pushing that secret smile away and sending a wave of anxiety through her.

  “But we didn’t…You didn’t—”

  He kissed her shoulder, tender touches of his lips, and then he lowered his forehead there, restraint radiating off him.

  “Drake, let me pleasure you,” she said, trying to ease the worry of whatever was holding him back.

  “Shh.” He kissed her again, tender and languid, as if her words made it harder for him to resist. “I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow regretting a single thing we do.”

  “I won’t,” she promised. “I could never regret this. I’ve waited forever to be with you.”

  “And you’re leaving tomorrow,” he reminded her. “Embarking on an exciting new part of your life. I want you to be clearheaded when you start your new job, not distracted by me, or us, and wondering what if…”

  She flopped onto her back and sighed. “Well, you already screwed that up. All these years and I never knew it was possible to have an orgasm without actually being touched down there. If you think that’s not going to distract me every minute of the day, you’ve got your head on backward.”

  He laughed and leaned over her, kissing her again. “If you say orgasm again, I might have to change my mind.”

  “Orgasm, orgasm, orgasm!” she said as fast as she could.

  He pulled her against him, kissing and laughing as he tickled her. They both fell to the mattress smiling.

  “You told me all the reasons you couldn’t be with me,” she said. “And now look where we are. You kind of suck at holding back.”

  “Hey, I’ve restrained myself for years. I think I should be commended for my efforts.” He lay beside her, holding her hand, and said, “I couldn’t have held back more than I have tonight if my life depended on it.”

  She grinned like a fool.

  “I think you put some kind of weakening agent in my drink.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the swell of her breast. “Promise me something. If you regret this in the morning, text me and let me know instead of disappearing and never talking to me again.”

  “How could I not talk to you again? You’d leave a hole in my life, and that would suck. You won’t do that, will you? What if you regret it? Ohmygod. What if you’re telling me this because you already regret it?”

  “Stop,” he said with a smile.

  “We need a code word,” she said hastily. “Delete. If either of us regrets this, we’ll text delete to the other, and then we’ll know that we can never think or talk about it again.”

  “Yeah, that’ll work,” he said sarcastically. He touched his lips to hers and said, “You are all I’ll think about from this second on. Your intoxicating mouth…” His lips came coaxingly down over hers, taking her in another toe-curling kiss. “And don’t get me started on your body.” He sucked her nipple into his mouth, and she arched off the mattress.

  “Drake—” She fisted her hands in his hair, holding his mouth there. “Don’t stop.”

  He moved over her, his thick length pressed against her center as he groped and teased her breasts, taking her higher with every tantalizing touch. She clung to his head as he masterfully sent her soaring again. Holy cow. He was crazy if he thought she’d regret this. She didn’t even know what this was, and she didn’t need a definition. It felt too right to question.

  He kissed her and loved her, making her feel cherished, sexy, and oh so satisfied. She melted limply into the mattress, and he gazed down at her, his dark eyes holding her captive. A slow grin lifted his lips, and he kissed the edges of her mouth, as if he simply wanted to remember the moment, to see her face. And holy cow, what that did to her hungry heart was overwhelming.

  Sometime later, as she lay in a foggy state of post-orgasmic bliss, she realized he’d given her pleasure but she’d done nothing for him. “Let me make you feel good.”

  “You already have,” he said, showering her with more kisses. “No regrets, beautiful.”

  He wrapped her in his strong arms, holding her as they kissed and then running his hand soothingly along her back as they lay together. Most men couldn’t wait to get in a woman’s pants, and here he was, content with pleasuring her, holding her.

  “Okay, sweetheart,” he said softly. “I better go before I forget why we stopped.”

  She clung to him, knowing he was smart to give her a chance to think before they went further and wishing he could be careless just this once. That he’d take the decision out of her hands, as he had when he’d held back. But now she understood his reasoning well enough to realize that this decision was too important for either of them to give in.

  He covered her with the blanket and kissed her tenderly. “Get some sleep.”

  She lay on her side, watching him put on his shirt and wishing they’d been there four years ago. Was she making a mistake moving away? Could this be the beginning and the end of everything she’d ever wanted?

  Weren’t those the exact questions, the reasons, he’d held back for all this time? The reason they hadn’t made love tonight?

  “You’re going to outshine everyone in Boston, Supergirl. I can’t wait to hear all about it. I’ll come by in the morning to help you load up your car.”

  “No. Please don’t.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat caused by the disappointment in his eyes. “I suck at goodbyes. You know I’ll cry, and I don’t want that. Just let me pretend it’s any other day and I’m going on a road trip.”

  “That feels wrong on so many levels.” He sank down to the edge of the bed and took her hand in his.

  “It’s not. It’s the rightest thing you can do.”

  He sighed and traced the stars on her bracelet.

  “I love my bracelet, and I love that every time I wear it I’ll think of tonight. Thank you.” She wanted to ask him what tonight meant. How would they act when they saw each other again? But part of her knew that too many questions might bring whatever this was between them to a screeching halt.

  “I’ll lock up when I leave.” He touched his lips to hers and whispered, “Nothing could ever delete tonight from my memory banks. Good night, Supergirl.”

  Chapter Eight

  DRAKE AWOKE TO the sound of his cell phone vibrating on the nightstand. He bolted upright, disoriented after being awake for most of the night. He’d been in a state of euphoria when he’d left Serena’s cottage, having finally let her feel his emotions instead of hiding them. But when he’d gotten home, he’d been swamped with worry. He’d done the exact thing he’d sworn he wouldn’t do. He’d been this close to making love to her. Even without that next level of intimacy, he’d crossed every line he’d ever drawn between them—and despite his worries, he didn’t regret a second of it.

  But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t worry like a motherfucker.

  He snagged his phone, hoping not to see the word delete. Relief swept through him as he read Serena’s message. Thanks for the best night of my life. And for making me more confused. xoxox. She added a smiling emoji.

  “Best night, huh? Nice to know I’m not alone in that.” Before he could type a response, another message popped up. And don’t you DARE text DELETE or I’ll come back and punch you in your orgasm-inducing mouth! Love you.

  A kissing emoji popped up.

  Another message bubble appeared. I meant I love you like I always say to you and Rick and Dean. Not I love you like a boyfriend.

  He sat up on the edge of the bed, smiling as another message came through. That sounds bad. Y
ou know what I mean. See? You definitely confused me! Goodbye! See you this weekend to work on the shop.

  “What have I done to you, Supergirl?” he mumbled as he typed a reply. So…you like my mouth, huh? Love you too, Supergirl.

  Drake pulled on his running clothes and texted Rick. Ready to run?

  Rick’s response was immediate. We thought you blew us off. Hurry your ass up.

  A brisk breeze, sunshine, and the sound of the bay kissing the shore were welcome companions as they ran down the beach. Drake looked forward to their morning runs, even in the winter, when the bitter cold brought them to the streets rather than the beach. Running took all the starch out of him before work each day, and catching up with the guys was always a nice way to start the day. They knew when to give each other space and when to push—emotionally and physically. Drake caught up to Rick and Dean about half a mile down the beach.

  “You don’t look like a guy who finally got his girl,” Rick said.

  Before Rick and Dean had fallen for their significant others, they’d dish about the women they’d gone out with. There was no way Drake was going to share any intimate information about Serena. “Yeah? Well, you look like a guy who’s about to get his ass kicked.”

  Dean snickered.

  “Tabling this discussion,” Rick said with a smirk. “Moving on to more important things, like why the hell didn’t anyone warn me that there was so much shit to plan for a wedding?”

  “Emery said you were having a simple beach wedding,” Dean said. “What’s so complicated? Get someone to officiate, throw on some nice clothes, and get hitched.”

  “You’d think so,” Rick said. “But Desiree is arranging tasting sessions with Brandy up in P-town. Tasting sessions. It’s a cake. It could come from the grocery store and no one would care.”

  “Brandy’s doing the catering for our grand opening, too. Don’t you remember Serena and I doing a tasting with her last month? And that’s not a wedding. You really don’t understand women,” Drake said. “Desiree’s probably been dreaming of her wedding day forever, like most women. She wants everything to be perfect.”

  “I’m glad you understand, because she wants all of us, guys and girls, to go to the tasting. She said our wedding plans should include all our friends.” Rick smirked.

  “Great,” Drake said flatly.

  Rick chuckled. “And flowers? Who knew picking them out could be so hard? Desiree set out pictures of different bouquets all over our bedroom. She said she needs to see which one feels right.”

  “I knew I liked her,” Dean said. Having previously owned a landscaping business, he was all about flowers and plants. Now, not only did he manage the grounds of the resort, but he also maintained the gardens at the hospital where he’d once worked as a trauma nurse, as well as at LOCAL, where his grandmother lived.

  Rick scowled. “You just wait. When are you and Emery going to tie the knot?”

  They split up to run around a couple sitting on the beach, and while Dean and Rick talked about weddings, Drake’s mind traveled back to last night, to the moment he’d lifted Serena into his arms and had finally kissed her—and then he revisited every touch, every taste, every one of her sweet sounds. He’d made a damn liar of himself. But now, in the light of day, listening to Dean and Rick talk about their weddings, when he should feel selfish and apologetic, he didn’t. And given the chance, he’d do it all over again. That probably made him even more of a selfish prick, especially since he’d been right. On the cusp of what should be the most exciting time of Serena’s life, he’d confused the hell out of her.

  “Drake!” Rick grabbed his arm and yanked him around a log he’d nearly run into. “Whoa, dude. Now you look like the guy who got the girl. What the hell happened? You zoned out for that last two miles.”

  “Serena,” he said absently as the resort came into view. Wow. He really had zoned out. He hadn’t even registered turning around. “She happened to me.”

  “It’s about fucking time,” Dean said.

  “Does that mean you’ve given yourself permission to be a mere mortal?” Rick asked.

  Drake was not in the mood to be given shit. “What…?”

  “The other day you said you were man enough not to fuck with her head,” Rick reminded him. “It took you four years, but you finally realized you’re only human? Jesus, Drake. If I’d have known that all it would take was for her to get a new job, I’d have practically kicked her out the door ages ago. Do you have any idea how painful it was to watch you two together every time we went out?”

  Try being in my shoes.

  “There is so much sexual tension between you two, I’m surprised you don’t leave a trail of fire in your wake,” Dean said. “That’s obviously why she’s never gone home with any of the guys who hit on her.”

  Good. Drake had been the one to drive her most of those times, but he wasn’t fooling himself. She’d never hidden the fact that she’d gone on occasional dates, and each and every time had been excruciating for him.

  “Don’t get your hopes up too high,” Drake said as they slowed to a walk by the inn. “She’s on her way to Boston, and my life is here. I meant it when I said I’d never make her choose or stand in her way.”

  “It’s only a half hour flight from P-town,” Dean reminded him. “An hour and a half by car without traffic.”

  “What’s your plan? You can’t just sleep with her and let it go at that,” Rick said protectively.

  “Don’t you think I know that? I’m the one who”—loves her. Holy shit. I really do love her—“has been watching out for her all this time. And we didn’t sleep together.”

  They looked at him like he wasn’t making sense.

  “Then what’s got your nuts in a knot?” Dean asked.

  Rick grinned. “That he didn’t sleep with her, obviously.”

  Drake glared at him.

  “Come on. I’m starved.” Rick started up the path toward the inn. “You can expect eggs Benedict or something equally amazing today, and yes, I expect a thank-you.”

  Dean scoffed. “Real men don’t brag.”

  The last thing Drake wanted to do was to sit around the breakfast table watching those two make out with their women while his girl was setting up house in Boston. “I’m out of here.”

  “You going to be around later?” Rick called after him.

  Drake turned around. “Yeah. Why?”

  “We’ve got to talk about hiring someone. She’s gone, man, and you know Serena. Even if she hates her job, she’s not coming back to run the office.”

  “Emery and Harper agreed to help out, but we need someone permanent,” Dean pointed out.

  Drake’s gut twisted. He hadn’t even realized he was holding on to the hope that Serena might come back. Rick was right. She’d see it as a failure. She was all about moving forward. Her voice traipsed through his mind. I won’t end up like my mother, running through quicksand with the hopes of someone else creating a life for me. Every time she got her foot on solid ground, she’d meet a guy and backslide into the muck of wishful thinking. Wishes don’t make dreams come true. Only hard work can do that.

  He looked at Rick’s and Dean’s expectant faces. He’d been pushing away his true emotions for so many years, he had a feeling the ones he’d finally unleashed were only skimming the surface. He hadn’t realized how messed up he’d been over Serena’s leaving. He was damn lucky they’d put up with his attitude.

  “I’ll be in the office later,” he said. “We’ll go through the résumés and bring back the best three candidates. I’m sure one of them will be fine.”

  He jogged across the sand toward the office, imagining Serena’s car parked out front. His heart sank. The exact opposite of the reaction he’d had every time he’d seen it, day after fucking day.

  He went into the office and stopped in front of her desk. Harper would be there soon, and then Emery, and then some other person. As he headed upstairs to his apartment, he tried to come to grips with the
reality that he’d never again see her beautiful face behind that desk. It felt strangely like one of their connections had severed, even though another one had developed.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, he threw open his apartment door, grabbed his phone from the dresser behind the door, and thumbed out a text to Serena on his way to the kitchen. Just got back from my run. Miss seeing you already. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and guzzled it down, contemplating the text. He set the bottle on the counter, deleted the text, and typed, I bet Boston looks brighter with you in it.

  “Damn it.” That made him sound like a chick.

  He deleted the message and headed for the shower, catching sight of a picture hanging on the wall in the hallway. Mira had taken it right after they’d started working on the resort. He was standing on the office porch having a heated conversation about renovations with Rick and Dean. Serena sat on the steps, her knees touching, making a silly face by sticking out her tongue and crossing her eyes. She was pointing behind her with both thumbs. Her hair was shorter then, and it was spring, too early for the summer sun to bring out her hair’s golden highlights, which had always bewitched him.

  The resort belonged to her just as much as it belonged to him and the other guys. Maybe more so, since she’d had to figure out how to work with the three of them and overcome so much between each of them to help make their dreams come to fruition. They’d fought her tooth and nail when she’d wanted to pretty up the office and cottages to make them more feminine and when she’d instituted procedures that took more time than they would have liked. In the end she’d been right. Their systems were efficient, their project management structure sound. And don’t even get him started on the music stores. Had it not been for her, he’d have made a few big mistakes that would have cost him dearly. He had no doubt she was going to excel at her new job, and he would be damned if he’d stand in her way.

  He thumbed out the message, Thanks for putting up with all of us and for putting your heart and soul into the resort and the music stores. They’re all better because you had a hand in them. Go kick ass, Supergirl. You’ve got nowhere to go but up.