by Robin Kaye
“Pop is doing better.”
“He is, and before you know it, Logan will be home.”
Storm turned her around. “Is that what this is about?”
Bree rinsed her hair, and after she wiped the water from her eyes, she couldn’t miss Storm’s anger. “Why are you glaring at me? I just stated a fact. Logan will come home, and you’ll be free to leave.”
Storm took a menacing step toward her. “I thought you were done with wishing me away to Auckland.”
Bree felt the hold on her emotions slip down the drain with the cooling water. She took a shuddered breath and lost the battle with her tears. Her shoulders shook. “I love you, Storm.” She looked away from him and stared at the white tile wall. “I probably always have, but I’m not depending on you or anyone else for my happiness anymore.” She wrapped her arms around herself to keep from shaking. “You were right last night when you said I was afraid to live.” She snuck a glance in his direction and then lost her nerve and stared at the tile wall again, with tears running down her cheeks like rain. “I’ve been surviving, not living. Then you step back in my life and change everything. You changed me. I realized so many things. I’m determined not to go back to living a half life, with or without you. I have no control over whether you stay or go. I can only control my actions.” She filled her lungs to steady herself and stared him straight in the eye. “And that’s what I’m determined to do.”
He pulled her into his arms and did his boa constrictor imitation again. “You love me?”
She pressed her forehead against his shoulder and wished she’d kept her mouth shut. “You sound a whole lot happier about it than I am.”
“I was afraid I was the only one falling in love in this relationship. At least we’re in the same boat.”
“Let’s just hope it’s not the Titanic.”
* * *
Storm wasn’t too happy with the Titanic allusion. But since their first time around was a big disaster, he wasn’t too surprised Breezy wasn’t jumping for joy over the realization. “She’ll be right, you’ll see.”
Bree raised her gaze to his, her eyes shiny. He wasn’t sure if it was from her tears or the shower water. “There you go, sounding all Kiwi again. It’s not helping.”
He wasn’t sure anything would help, except maybe a good night’s sleep, so he got her out of the shower as quickly as he could, dried her off, and watched her put on another pair of ridiculous pajamas before they went back to Pop’s place.
The apartment was quiet and he turned out the lights as they made their way to their room.
Bree stood just inside the door. “What if Nicki gets up in the night?”
Storm hadn’t bothered putting his shirt back on. Hell, it and his boxer briefs were probably still on Bree’s bathroom floor. “Does she usually?”
“No.”
“We’ll lock the door.” And he did exactly that. “Besides, Nicki always knocks before she comes in here. I laid down some ground rules the first time she walked in on me shaving.”
“She walked in on you?”
“I was wearing a towel, so it could have been worse, but we made a deal to respect each other’s privacy.” He took Bree’s hand and pulled her away from the door before she ran. “Come to bed. You didn’t get much sleep last night.” Which might explain why she was so upset. Lack of sleep on top of a stressful day couldn’t be helping matters. He turned the bed down and pulled up her T-shirt.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
He pulled it the rest of the way off. “Getting you naked.”
“These are pajamas.” Bree reached for her top.
He tossed it over her head onto the chair before he slid down her shorts and panties. “And they’re really cute, but unnecessary. The only thing I want you to wear to bed is me.”
She slid into bed, pulling the top sheet around her chest as if they hadn’t spent the last half hour together naked, as if he hadn’t explored her entire body with his mouth, as if they hadn’t had the most amazing sex of his life several times in the last twenty-four hours.
He tugged off his pants and got in beside her, knowing that she needed to sleep, not make love. Still, he pulled her into his arms, spooned her, and wondered if he’d ever be able to sleep with her, just sleep. His hand rested on her belly, far enough away from the breasts he wanted to hold and the thatch of curls he wanted to explore, and did his best to keep his raging hard-on from touching her. It was going to be a long and painful night. He kissed her bare shoulder. “I love you, Breezy. Get some sleep. Things will look better tomorrow.”
She flipped over, pushed him onto his back, and went nose to nose with him. “Get some sleep?” she hissed, her eyes flashing like fire in the light coming off the street. “You drag me to bed, strip me naked, tell me you love me for the first time, and now you expect me to sleep?”
He tried to sit up, only to be pushed down again. “I was trying to be understanding. You’re exhausted. You’ve had a tough day.”
“I’m not tired; I’m frustrated, Storm. The last thing I need is to lie here and think.”
Okay, she was pissed, and he was confused. Maybe she wanted to talk about everything—again. Women were always into communicating. Not usually Breezy, but then he’d never expected her to vent like she had in the shower either. Maybe she wasn’t finished? “You want to talk?”
She threw her leg over him and none too gently sat on his stomach, forcing the breath he’d been holding out of his lungs with a whoosh.
Storm found himself looking up at an enraged goddess.
“Try again.”
Damn, he hoped to hell she wanted to make love, because seeing her like this had him panting like a kid with his first Penthouse.
Before he could respond, she crushed her mouth against his and kissed him like a woman possessed. Teeth clashed, and she sucked his tongue into her mouth and raked her teeth over it, ripping a groan from his chest.
He was surrounded by her scent, her taste, her emotions. He was on the verge of becoming totally engulfed.
Bree slid over his erection, and she stole the air from his lungs once more.
If this was what she meant about being in control of her own happiness, he was all for it. She was hot and wet and wild, and she was his. Gone was the tentative lover from last night. Tonight she was a demanding hellcat, with fangs and claws and a rabid determination. He loved the dichotomy—hell, he loved everything about her. “Breezy?” He grasped her hips—one more inch and he’d be inside her.
She let out a frustrated groan. “What?” Exasperation was evident in the way she spit out the “t.”
“Protection, babe, unless you’ve got that covered too.”
“Oh God.” Her breath ragged, she collapsed on him, her heart raging in time with his. “I wasn’t…I didn’t…I’m not…”
“It’s okay.” He rolled them over, brushed the hair off her face, and kissed her swollen lips before he took care of it. When he reached for her, he found her lying right where he had left her, minus the urgency, the anger, the tinge of desperation. He lay beside her, pulled her onto her side facing him, and ran his hand from shoulder to thigh. “I believe you were in the middle of having your way with me.”
“I attacked you.” She looked mortified. A blush spread from chest to cheeks, and she rested her forehead in the crook of his neck, hiding from him again.
“Breezy, if you attack me like that every time you’re mad, you can count on me pissing you off every chance I get.”
“I wasn’t mad.”
He kissed her, sucking on her lower lip, and nipped at it as he pulled her on top of him, tugging her closer, right where she sat before he called a time-out. She was so close, her heat teased his erection, her scent tantalized, his dick twitched.
Bree sucked in a breath and rose above him. “I was frustrated.”
“You’re not the only one.” His voice came out sounding strangled even to his own ears. He clenched his jaw to keep contr
ol. He held still, every muscle tensed and twitching like a bucking bull in a shoot when his rider takes his seat. Storm waited for his chance to explode out of the gate and shook with anticipation.
Bree leaned over and traced his lips with the tip of her tongue. “I just wanted you.” The pebbled tips of her breasts brushed his chest. “I got a little crazy.” She nipped his ear, her hot breath spiking his temperature even higher. “I wanted to feel the way only you make me feel. I need you, Storm.”
She didn’t know how Storm managed it, but in one move he had control of her entire body—she was a marionette, and Storm was pulling all her strings. His hand on the back of her neck brought her mouth to his in a kiss that was hard, demanding, explosive, and everything she’d dreamed of. With one thrust of his hips he filled her to overflowing.
He held her, sent her flying, and tugged her back to earth, only to shoot her off again. His kiss captured her screams, and the heart, heat, and love in his eyes held her captive as he gave her everything she’d ever imagined, everything she’d wanted, everything she needed. When he looked at her like that, Nicki, Pete, her mother—all the responsibilities, all their differences, their problems, all the things she couldn’t control, ceased to exist. All she could do was experience Storm and the love she was powerless to fight, the love she’d known most of her life, the love she wore like a tattoo on her heart.
“Breezy, I can’t hold out. Come with me, babe.” His entire body tensed and shuddered, and he groaned, and though she didn’t think it possible, he set her off again.
The last things she remembered were his kiss, his hands soothing the tremors still racking her body, his heart pounding under her ear, and the way he said, “Love you, Breezy,” just before she gave in to her exhaustion and fell into a dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER 18
Storm found himself sitting at a bar a block away from the North Cove Marina and thinking about Breezy. He took a sip of his beer and saw Thomas Danby strolling toward him. Storm stood. “Thomas, good to see you.”
Thomas shook his hand with a surprisingly strong grip, and his smile showed off his gap-tooth grin. The man looked like a forty-year-old with prematurely gray hair. The seventysomething-year-old still ran ten miles a day, and his daily constitution put Storm to shame.
Storm fingered the key fob for No Censor Ship and reluctantly handed it over. “Thanks for letting me borrow her. She’s as much fun as she was in the sea trials.”
Thomas raised a bushy eyebrow. “And the girl?”
“Once I convinced her I wasn’t committing grand theft, things went extremely well.”
“Glad to hear it.” Thomas sat back and waved to the bartender, who brought over his favorite scotch. “So, how long are you in town?”
“At least another month. But then if all goes well, I’ll be spending a lot more time here.”
Thomas let out a low whistle. “Well, that is certainly a change. Last I heard you wanted to be anywhere but Red Hook. I guess you weren’t kidding about the date going well.”
“It’s too early to tell for sure. We have a lot of history to get through, but things are definitely looking up.”
“So, what does this woman do?”
Storm took a sip of his beer. “Bree manages my dad’s bar and restaurant, and she’s on the Red Hook Revitalization Committee. As a matter of fact, she’s presenting a request for a change of zoning tomorrow. Speaking of which, do you know anything about a guy named Daniel Knickerbocker?”
“Daniel Knickerbocker? The name rings a bell.” He took out his smartphone and typed something.
“I don’t like him—something is off; I’m just not sure what. He’s been bothering Bree, and he’s on the committee with her. He supposedly owns a bunch of real estate in Red Hook, but when I did a search of county records, his name didn’t come up. I was hoping you could do a little snooping for me.”
“Are you sure it’s not just that he’s after the woman you care enough to jump through hoops for?”
“Hell, I don’t know. That’s probably part of it, but when I did my search, I kept coming back to one thing: Why is he so interested in Red Hook? He strikes me as more of a predator than a philanthropist, and he doesn’t seem to have any ties to the community except for his attraction to my girlfriend.”
“What makes you think he owns real estate?”
“Just the neighborhood scuttlebutt. But then Red Hook is a close-knit community, and my source has always been pretty solid.”
Thomas stood and took the last swallow of scotch. “I’ll have the reporter who handles Red Hook snoop around and see what she finds.”
“Is she going to the zoning board meeting tomorrow night?”
“She could.”
“Daniel Knickerbocker will be there, and for some reason, he’s having Bree present the proposal for the zoning change for the Harbor Pier Project. He told Bree it was so that she could get the recognition she deserves. I think it’s because he’s trying to keep a low profile.”
“Okay, you have my antenna twitching too. I’ll get back to you.” Thomas shook his hand and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here. Keep in touch, and let me know if you want to bring your lady friend out for another sail. I’d like to meet the woman who snared the Storm.”
Storm shook his head. “Really, Thomas? Snared the Storm? You couldn’t do any better than that? You’re supposed to be a wordsmith; yet that’s so cliché. I’m disappointed.”
“Me too. I’ve been sitting on the sidelines too long. See you around.”
Storm followed him out and headed toward the bar and Bree. It had been hours since he’d seen her. She’d been all strung out over practicing her presentation. She was going to be great, but he figured he was good for more than just a captive audience. He hoped to hell she’d use him for stress relief.
* * *
“Does my butt look big in this?” Bree looked over her shoulder at Storm, who sat on her bed with D.O.G., his shadow, and all the color left his face. “Yeah, that’s what I thought too. I’ll change.” She dug through her closet, looking for something more suitable.
Storm’s arms came around her from behind. “Your butt looks amazing. I just don’t like the thought of anyone but me admiring it.”
Her gaze returned to the mirror when she asked, “Too slutty?”
“No, you look tempting.” He kissed her neck, and his hands inched higher. “So tempting, I want to unbutton this prim and proper business suit and find out what you’re wearing beneath it. I’m just glad no one but me knows your taste in lingerie.”
Bree rolled her eyes. “Storm, I’m hardly a vestal virgin.”
His grip went from seductive to possessive. “Did you sleep with him?”
She had absolutely no idea who Storm was referring to—not that it really mattered. “Do I ask you who you slept with?” And God, how she wished she could. She had a vague memory of Nicki’s mother from years ago, dark hair, hot body, way too much makeup—her direct opposite. And if Storm was Nicki’s father, that meant he’d chosen Marisa over her.
“Knickerbocker. Did you sleep with him?”
“Eww, no, so would you please stop this testosterone-charged chest pounding and let me breathe?” She should be completely disgusted by his behavior. She was a smart, independent woman. She didn’t need a man. She’d survived all this time without one. Well, except for the other night, but even Gloria Steinem had great sex once in a while, didn’t she? What shocked her was that a little part of her liked it—the little girl who had dreamed of wearing a tiara and of being rescued by a white knight. That little girl inside had Bree fighting back a sigh and questioning her sanity.
Storm loosened his hold and looked as shocked as she was by his reaction. “Sorry.”
Bree shook her head and waved his apology away. “I’m nervous enough about the meeting; I don’t need anything else to deal with.”
“You’ve practiced; you’ll be fine.” He looked so sure of himself.
&
nbsp; “I’ve practiced using a spatula as a microphone, and a blank wall for my PowerPoint in front of you, Nicki, and D.O.G. Hardly an unbiased audience.”
“The PowerPoint is more for you than for anyone else. It will keep you on track. As for the rest, just pretend that everyone on the board is your employee. You have no problem talking to them, making your needs known, and asking for results.”
Bree shook her head and checked her computer again. “Why couldn’t Daniel just do this?”
“You’re better off without him. You’ll be fine.”
Stampeding footsteps prevented any response as Nicki rounded the corner into Bree’s room and stopped short, wrapping her arm around D.O.G.’s neck. Bree still couldn’t believe they’d talked her into allowing the monster of a dog into her apartment. Still, he was growing on her…slowly. She was getting used to being licked awake by man and dog. She still preferred the man, probably always would, but the mutt was pretty cute.
“Pop said I could come over and give you this.” Nicki held out her hand. “It’s my lucky rock.”
“Lucky rock?” If Bree had expected a pebble, she was mistaken. She accepted the loan of a rock big enough to fit neatly in the palm of her hand, her fingers wrapped around the cool stone.
“If you get scared, just hold on to it. It always helps me.”
“Thanks, Nicki.” Bree wondered if it was a ten-year-old’s equivalent of brass knuckles. She reached for Nicki and gave her a hug. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right tonight with Pop?”
“Bree, I’m not a baby.” She rolled her eyes and shot Storm a conspiratorial look. “Rocki and Francis are downstairs, and they promised one of them would come up to take D.O.G. and me for a walk later. And it’s not as if you’re going to stay out all night again. Are you?”
Bree saw a little kernel of insecurity bleed through Nicki’s bravado and wished she and Storm hadn’t spent the other night on the boat. They should have come home. She knew it then, but Storm had been too persuasive. “No, we’ll be home right after the meeting.”