Besotted: An Enemies-to-Lovers Small-town Romance (Carmel Cove Book 3)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  I would’ve thought I imagined his low growl, except I felt the vibration from the noise rumble against my breasts that felt swollen and confined against the lace bust of my dress. My nipples rubbed against the fabric with each sway and shot sparks down to my stomach, setting those knotted butterflies on fire.

  Heat pulsed through my body and oxygen grew distinctly harder and harder to come by.

  I didn’t know how he could hold me this close without it shutting down half of his senses like it was doing to mine.

  “Are you having a good time?” I asked dumbly, like I couldn’t tell he’d rather not be dancing at the moment.

  He exhaled slowly, and I caught the faintly sweet and subtle whiff of good whiskey on his breath. Mingled with the scent of him—fresh wood and ocean breeze.

  “It’s a wedding,” he replied, as though it implied an answer.

  “I don’t believe you.” I sucked in a breath, wishing the words would go back inside my lungs with it.

  They didn’t

  And it got his attention. His eyes dropped like golden stones to mine, daring me to repeat myself.

  “You just… seem preoccupied.” My shrug was a mistake because it rubbed the tips of my breasts against him once more, and I had to bite my lip to hold back my moan.

  This had to be the champagne.

  I caught the almost imperceptible flicker of his jaw underneath his beard, and when I saw that, I realized I was close enough to see the scar that ran down his cheek all the way to the edge of his jaw. Most of it was covered by his beard, the coarse hair serving a purpose.

  Then the corners of his lips lifted in a small smile, and it felt like the sun peeking through the darkest of clouds. I bit into my cheek. I’d never gotten a look at his lips this close before. They were full—fuller than his brother’s when he let them out of the tight line they were normally kept in, and it made me want to lick them even more. And nibble.

  Definitely nibble on them.

  His words cut through my imaginings.

  “Weddings aren’t my thing,” he informed me as we swayed through another turn.

  “Oh? Why not?” I hid my wince.

  Sometimes, I spoke before I really thought—a consequence of having two older siblings who I was always trying to get a word in with.

  “Because nothing lasts forever.”

  I stumbled over my dress, the only thing stopping me from tumbling to the ground and ripping the chiffon fabric in the process was Miles’ strong arms pulling me tighter against him.

  And thinking… breathing… got even harder.

  The John Mayer song faded in the background as my heart thumped in my chest. Even though this was the most I’d probably spoken to Miles since he moved here, it still felt like a weight had crushed a hope I refused to admit I held.

  He didn’t believe in forever, and forever was the only thing I was looking for.

  “You alright?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

  Even though I was steady again, his hold didn’t lessen. His hands were mitts on my waist, my skin burning underneath his touch.

  The way his thumbs moved in small circles at that spot just in front of my hipbone was driving me crazy. I wanted that movement, I just wanted it lower, rubbing over the part of me between my thighs that ached when he was around.

  I could feel every thick, muscled plane of his chest, the rhythmic rise and fall as it pushed into mine. Through the thin chiffon, I swore even the perfectly proportioned squares of his abdominal muscles imprinted into my stomach. And lower…

  Fire flooded my cheeks.

  As we moved around our small spot on the dance floor, I could feel the hard length of him begin to thicken against his pants.

  “Yeah, sorry.”

  His eyes narrowed on me, and he remarked, “You’re shorter than when we walked down the aisle.”

  I groaned and without much pressure at all, confessed, “I changed my heels for my Keds. I’m not good in heels, which is surprising considering how much yoga and balance work I do, but for some reason—”

  “You have sneakers on?” he cut me off.

  I nodded sheepishly. “Don’t tell Laurel.”

  Not that she would really care, but I didn’t want to advertise. Even Taylor, who ran the Lookout with her husband, Ash, was still in her heels while holding their new baby.

  “Your secret’s safe with me,” he murmured with a chuckle that cut short as soon as my tongue darted out to lick my lips.

  The hardness between us grew.

  Air felt thick and heavy as it settled unsteadily in my lungs. It was hot in here. Not hot yoga hot. This was beyond that. This was too hot.

  “Eve?” I heard him rasp as our movements came to almost a complete halt.

  “I think I just need some air,” I said weakly, about to turn and make an embarrassing escape when I felt one of his arms slide possessively around my waist.

  “I’ve got you,” he said firmly, and he held me tight as he led me toward the back door.

  I tried to focus on keeping a smile on my face—and not the wall of hot male that was pressed against me—as we moved through the crowd toward the door that led out back behind the restaurant.

  The back patio of the Lookout was draped with twinkle lights. Small tables and chairs were set up so guests could relax under the quiet of the stars. But I kept walking right past all of that, down the steps and onto the grass where the ceremony had taken place earlier. Here, the music and the people were only a distant hum, and the lights a glimmer in the background.

  I dragged in long, deep breaths of the cool summer-night air like we’d been dancing underwater.

  “Better?”

  I rubbed my thighs together, the low rumble of his voice feeling like he’d reached right down and rubbed between them.

  “Yes. Thank you.” It was better out here because there was more space, and the need I felt for him wasn’t crammed in a space that was too small to hold it.

  But when I turned, I realized how close he still stood to me. Apparently, he thought I needed space from everyone and everything but him.

  I pushed up on the bridge of my glasses and rambled again, “Sometimes, when I’m in cramped spaces and I’m standing, I get really hot and light-headed and pass out.” I held up a hand, assuring him, “I’m fine—better now. It just takes a minute.”

  His head tipped to the side as he regarded me. Like in slow motion, both of his hands rose in my periphery to cup the sides of my face.

  He’d never touched me skin-to-skin before. And if it wasn’t his hands holding me tall, I would’ve crumbled to the ground.

  But that wasn’t it.

  That wasn’t the end of the torture.

  I inhaled a slow, steady leak of oxygen as his fingers gripped the sides of my glasses and gently pulled them from my face.

  As soon as the lenses were gone, so was the remains of my clarity—both sight and mind.

  “So beautiful, Eve,” he whispered.

  Even up this close, I couldn’t make out the fine lines of his face, my eyes were that bad. But I could see enough to get a sense of the way his lips moved and how the shadows of his eyes deepened.

  “T-Thank you,” I murmured, wishing I could’ve watched him say the words, although I doubted it would’ve made any greater impact than the words already had.

  “But I can’t see anything.” My voice quivered. It was unsettling to not be able to see. Unfortunately, it wasn’t nearly as unsettling as being so close to him.

  I pulled my lower lip between my teeth, trying to give my mind something clear to focus on.

  My heart rammed against the front of my chest, my lip popping free when his thumb began to rub over the hostage flesh. Back and forth. Soft and steady. The pad of his thumb rubbed tenderly over where my teeth had pressed into my flesh, massaging away any trace.

  Like he was kindling a flame.

  “Don’t need you to see me,” he said with a low, strained voice. “Only need you to feel me when
I kiss you.”

  My gasp was like a crack of lightning through the air. Silent but momentous all the same.

  There were long seconds. Seconds when I could have said something, done something, called someone—protested in some way—had I not wanted him to kiss me.

  But I did.

  I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted his kiss more than anything.

  I wanted to taste the lips I’d fantasized about. I wanted to see if his kiss would make better the desperate heat that pooled in the bottom of my belly. And the not-so-closeted romantic in me believed what every Disney movie had ever taught… that one kiss could break the spell, could break the curse, and change his mind about the idea of forever.

  Because true love’s kiss had that power.

  And when his lips finally touched mine, I knew I’d been right to believe in such a thing for so long—the magic of a kiss.

  It started with the firm pressure of his lips against mine. Like the prelude to a symphony, the darkening of the skies before a storm, the foreshocks before an earthquake… nothing so powerful, so great, ever started at its peak. It laid a foundation, one that foretold of the utter devastation my body would experience at the behest of his.

  His tongue swiped over the seam of my lips like a sign of permission that set mine free. Cautious, but determined, my own darted out to meet his, dueling with desire before searching for his lips.

  Much to my surprise, they were so unbelievably soft compared to the hard line they were always pulled in. It was a small thing, but it felt like I’d been let in on a secret he didn’t want many to know, that there was a delicious tenderness lying beneath the hard exterior designed to protect it.

  My arms twined around his neck as my body draped against his.

  I felt my glasses pinned between his fingers and my back while his other hand drifted down to sink into the swell of my ass through my dress, pulling my hips firmly against his.

  The ache between my thighs intensified, and I acted before I thought; my body took over and rolled my hips against his. There was no mistaking the hardness of his erection that I ground against—no mistaking how much he wanted me in return.

  And a thrill of power coursed down my spine.

  Maybe in my story, the princess did find the prince.

  I whimpered as the kiss that started soft drifted easily into demanding. Of course, I’d felt desired before, but never like this. Never from him. It made every cell buzz with too much lustful energy to be contained.

  His hand on my ass dragged up and buried in my hair, angling my head so his tongue had access to every corner of my mouth—every inch that he had no other goal but to devour.

  “Miles…” I murmured, my head swimming in pleasure.

  This was it.

  This was what love started as—something too big to be contained.

  “Come home with me,” he rasped against my skin and the words triggered the one thing inside me that was stronger than my desire for him…that was what I wanted for my future.

  “I can’t… I don’t…” I shook my head, willing the words to come out clearly. “I don’t do casual, Miles. I don’t do one-night things or one-off dates,” I blurted out, needing to make this clear and wishing I could see his response. But he still had my glasses—he still left me blind when it came to really seeing him.

  “I want you.” I let out a weak laugh. Like that wasn’t obvious, Eve. “The way you make me feel… I’ve wanted you for a long time, but I want you for more than one night.”

  The way the energy changed around us was as subtle as a heart attack, and I felt the pain in my chest right about the time that breathing became a struggle.

  As he pulled away from me, my arms dropped to my sides like they didn’t have the strength to hold themselves up.

  “I don’t do forever.” The words lashed at me like a whip, stinging as he pressed my glasses into my grasp.

  He wanted this part to be crystal clear.

  “I-I know you said that,” I started, fumbling with my glasses before tugging them back onto my face.

  I should’ve left them off. The harshness in his face had returned, and it wasn’t the shadows of the night that made his expression more ominous.

  “But… I mean… don’t you feel it? Whatever the connection is between us? For months now, the looks, the butterflies.” I laughed nervously, hearing myself admit to things I really shouldn’t be only five seconds after our first kiss, but I was unable to stop the words before they tumbled from my mouth.

  He had to know. He had to understand.

  “I’m not asking you to marry me right now, of course not.” I gasped and clapped a hand over my mouth.

  Oh my God, Eve. What are you doing!

  This was going downhill fast. Like a metal sled coated with non-nutritive food varnish fast. And the embarrassment it was sending me head-first into would be of the caliber that belonged in a National Lampoon movie.

  “I didn’t mean that. I’m not asking you to marry me at all. If you don’t want to that is.” Crash. Burn. “I’m saying all the wrong things. I just mean that I can’t do one night if it’s not going somewhere serious. Plus, forever has to start with one night, right?”

  After all of that wreckage, my question remained hopeful. It still ended with a little bit of a lilt, held up by the butterflies that had invaded my stomach and made a home.

  After a kiss like that, who could take forever off the table?

  If a kiss like that wasn’t the curse-breaker that Disney advertised, then I’d rather suffer the curse, because if that kiss didn’t change my world, I wouldn’t survive the one that did.

  His head ducked for a moment, and I noticed how one strand of hair had come free from the tie that held the rest. I gripped my fingers together to stop them from reaching out and tucking it behind his ear.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned marriage.

  Okay, I definitely shouldn’t have mentioned marriage.

  But I wanted him to know I was only interested in something serious. I didn’t want him to put a limit on something that felt like it could be limitless, if we let it.

  His eyes returned to mine, no longer hard but with a carelessness that made me even more worried.

  “Sorry, Evie. I only do one night.”

  My body revolted. Torn between the endearment that made it feel warm and the subsequent truth that shattered it like ice.

  “But… our kiss…” I stammered like a lovestruck idiot.

  He shook his head with a small laugh, pulling out a flask from his pocket and unscrewing the top. “Just a kiss, doll.” He sighed heavily before taking a long swig. “I’m goin’ back in. I’ll send Jules out to check on you.”

  The desire in my body turned to anger, especially when he tried to be caring in the middle of being so careless.

  “Are you serious?” I blurted out, demanding an answer. “You tell me I’m beautiful. Then you kiss me. And just like that you walk away?”

  His shrug was a perfect synchrony of nonchalance. “Didn’t realize you were stuck on being that kind of girl, Evie. My mistake.”

  I bristled, crossing my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling the chill in the air.

  “And what kind of girl is that?”

  The hardness returned, glinting off the gold in his eyes. “The kind I’m not interested in anymore.”

  He lifted his flask up to me in some sort of twisted salute and walked away.

  I stared at the perfect picture of his retreating form, hating how my body still called for him to come back… hating how my body was willing to forego forever for one night in his arms.

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to work.

  One dance. One kiss. And they lived happily ever after.

  Instead, Miles wanted only one night and a happily never more.

  I stood tall, unwilling to crumble at the slight. I tried to make him out to be the villain—I tried to tell myself he was cruel. But he wasn’t. He’d given me his truth just as ho
nestly as I’d given him mine.

  And, like day and night, it was possible for both our truths to exist, just not together.

  I hated how the fragile hope that had been building over the last many months—months of sharing the same friends, of seeing each other most days when he stopped in for coffee, of side glances and lingering looks, of a growing fire that refused to be doused—crumbled in an instant.

  And under the weight of his reality, mine became crystal clear.

  I was besotted with Miles Madison, and in return, he’d broken me.

  Eve

  Three months later…

  “Eve! We’re here! Sorry, we’re late.”

  I heard Laurel yell from the back of Ocean Roasters coffee shop.

  The petite redhead was the fifth generation of Oceans to run Roasters, taking it over after Larry passed away.

  “Our front,” I called, locking the register drawer, one of the last things I had to do before closing up for the afternoon, before greeting her.

  I’d worked here for the last four years, initially to put myself through the associate’s business program at Carmel Community College. Then, because Larry still needed the help and I still needed the income while I saved to start my own business—my own yoga studio.

  “Sorry, sorry!”

  “Oh my gosh,” I exclaimed, meeting her halfway for a giant hug. “Don’t even think of apologizing. I just wish I could’ve come along to help.”

  Laurel and Eli had gone to help Laurel’s cousin, Jules, and her fiancé, Mick, move into their new place in Monterey since Jules was starting nursing school there this coming fall. It wasn’t too far of a drive, maybe less than an hour north, so I knew I’d get up there sometime within the week to see how my friend was settling in. But, for today, I’d manned the bustling coffee shop and avoided the one man I knew would be there, too.

  I was sure Miles would be there to help his twin brother, Mick, and, if I was given a legitimate reason to avoid that man, I was going to take it.

  “Honestly, it was probably for the best.” Laurel laughed. “Their place is super cute, but with Mick and Miles trying to move stuff?” She blew out an exhale and shook her head. “There was hardly room for the rest of us to squeeze by.”