“Oh, I don’t know.” We stood at the door and faced each other as the drops fell heavier. “You might have a few things going.”
“Like what?” The air around us hummed with electricity. He was so close I could smell his beach bonfire scent, feel his breath on my lips. Kiss me, Jack.
He slid his fingers into my hair, cradling my head in his hands. “You have beautiful eyes.”
“Thank you.”
“And lips.” A flash of lightning lit his face briefly before thunder growled above us.
“Thank you.” My voice trembled.
“And if things were different…” He closed his eyes as the rain made the metal gutters sing. “If I were different…”
“I don’t want you to be different.” Rising on tiptoe, I lifted my chin, let my eyes drift shut, waited to feel his mouth on mine.
But he pressed his lips to my forehead instead. “Goodbye, Margot.”
One second later, he was racing away from me in the rainy dark.
I stood there in shock, stomach jumping, hands shaking, rain dripping from my hair and clothes. He’s gone. That’s it.
Disappointed, I let myself into the cottage and locked the door behind me. A lump formed in my throat, and I tried to swallow it away. What did you expect? He is who he is, and you are who you are, and the two of you do not belong together.
I used the bathroom and washed my hands, talking back to the voice of reason in my head. Of course we don’t belong together. I know that. But it was such a nice night, and I thought maybe…
No. There is no maybe.
Sighing, I switched on a lamp in the front room and stood by the windows looking out at the lake. The rain drummed hard on the cottage roof, and I shivered again as lightning lit up the dark. The lamplight flickered, and I wondered what I’d do if the power went out.
Three sharp knocks made me jump. I hesitated for a second, then raced toward the sound. Was it him?
I yanked open the door, and there he was—dripping wet, breathing hard, body tense with restraint.
A second later, we lunged for each other.
Our mouths slammed together as his hands moved into my hair again, slanting my head as his tongue plunged between my lips. I ran my hands up the damp front of his chest and gripped the back of his neck. He came back! He came back!
He walked me backward without taking his lips off mine, kicking the door shut behind him. Frantically, we tore at wet clothing, our hands working as fast as the rain was falling. My fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt until I could push it from his shoulders. He broke our kiss only for the half-second it took to whip my blouse over my head. I undid his jeans and shoved my hand down the front of them, both of us moaning as I wrapped my fingers around his cock. It was hot and hard and grew thicker inside my fist. He unbuttoned my shorts and slid his hands down the back, inside my underwear, squeezing my ass.
Oh, God that feeling was back—that desperation to clutch and claw, to lick and bite, to scratch and pull. The way I wanted him gnawed at my insides like it was captive, determined to escape.
Part of me was dying to know what had made him change his mind, but no way was I about to stop and ask. And nothing about his actions suggested he wasn’t sure about this—not the stroke of his tongue, not the strength in his hands, not the thrust of his cock through my fingers. The force behind his desire heightened my own, because I knew what it had taken for him to come back here tonight, to admit that we’d failed to smother the spark between us, to give it another chance to burn.
Howling winds pressed against the windows as we shoved off shoes and jeans and shorts and underwear and tumbled onto the rug. He caught himself above me, and I stretched out on my back, his hips between my thighs. For the first time, we stopped kissing and looked at each other. Lightning flashed a split second before a loud crack of thunder shook the floor beneath us. Then the power went out, leaving us in the near dark.
Jack looked sharply toward the corner of the room where the lamp was, and his body tensed. In my mind I saw him hit the ground after the branch I was standing on snapped.
“Hey.” I took his face in my hands, forcing his eyes back to mine. “It’s OK.” I kissed his lips, his cheek, his lips again. “It’s OK. Stay with me.”
He pressed his mouth to mine and reached behind me with one hand, and I arched my back so he could unclasp my bra. The moment he’d tossed it aside, he descended on my breasts, kissing them, licking them, sucking them, kneading them with his hands. I wove my fingers into his hair, fisted them tight when he took one nipple between his teeth and flicked it with his tongue. The ache between my legs throbbed, and I sighed with pleasure when he slipped one finger inside me, then two. As his mouth traveled down my ribs and stomach, I rocked my hips against his hand, melting into his touch. His thumb moved gently over my clit, slow, rhythmic circles that made my skin hum and my stomach muscles tighten.