“I have a feeling nothing with you is easy.” He smiled to let her know he was only kidding. Sort of.
He cooked three more not-good-enough marshmallows as Jenna danced around him, calling out instructions: Turn it before you burn it! Yes, perfect! Turn it again! Oh no, too dark. Each time her smile faded anew; then her excitement would reappear as he loaded the next marshmallow on the stick. The other couples had long since finished roasting marshmallows and were standing among the crowd by the band.
Jenna planted her chin in her palms. “It’s okay, Petey. Some people are made for kissing instead of cooking marshmallows.”
“I’m made for both,” he practically growled. He set to work on another marshmallow.
Jenna crouched beside him again and began spouting off instructions. He silenced her with another glare, cooked the stupid marshmallow, then turned the stick toward her for inspection.
“Princess, your marshmallow has arrived. Not golden. Not brown. Golden-brown perfection.” After so many imperfect marshmallows, his nerves were strung so tight they twitched. He tried not to let on and forced a smile as Jenna set her mouth in a serious line and craned her neck, inspecting every ripple of the marshmallow.
Her eyes widened and her lips curved into a smile as she pulled the marshmallow from the stick with two fingers. “You did it! You can roast marshmallows as good as you can kiss.”
She popped the warm, sticky marshmallow into her mouth. Her excitement was worth every ounce of Pete’s agitation, which was dissipating quickly as he watched her luscious lips moving. Her eyes closed, and she moaned, as if the marshmallow was orgasmic. He couldn’t wait a second longer. He pulled her onto his lap and sealed his mouth over hers. The sticky sweetness slid over their tongues, dissolving with the heat of their kiss.
“I told you I’m picky.” She was still sitting on his lap, and he was already aroused, and in no hurry for her to move.
“And I told you I could cook the stupid thing.” He brushed her hair from her shoulder and cupped her cheek. “You, my sweet marshmallow princess, are very picky.”
She lowered her eyes and wrinkled her brow. “Does that mean you won’t cook marshmallows for me anymore?”
He lifted her chin. “No. It means I’ve memorized exactly what it takes to satisfy you. Sixty-seven seconds on each side, held about five inches from the fire, then twenty seconds with the tip of the marshmallow aimed directly at the flames, but a few inches away so it doesn’t burn.”
“That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard anyone say.”
She leaned in for another kiss, and Pete deepened it as she opened to his efforts. There on the crowded beach, with music filling the night and the smell of the bay mingling with the smoky fire, Pete felt his world shift into place.
WHEN THEIR LIPS parted, Jenna had to remind herself to breathe. Pete’s kisses made her body hum with anticipation. She was still sitting on his lap, his strong arms wrapped around her, making her feel feminine and safe against his powerful breadth.
“Do you want to dance?” His voice was deep and carried an undercurrent of desire.
No. I want you to kiss me again. “You’ll dance with me?”
“Babe, I’d do anything with you.”
Zing!
Groups of people gathered around the band, dancing and swaying to the music. Pete pulled her close, and she slid her hands beneath his shirt and up his muscular back, memorizing the feel of him. The temperature was warmer with the crowd blocking the breeze from the bay—or maybe it was from Pete’s body pressed against hers. His hands slid to the curve of her butt and pressed lightly. Jenna’s nerves were on fire. She wanted to kiss him and touch him until she had her fill. She felt herself breathing hard, and when he gazed down and searched her eyes, pressing his hips to her, she was as aroused as he was.
He was so much taller than her that lifting up on her toes would never get her close enough for a kiss, but oh, how she wanted to kiss him. Years of wanting him rushed forward. She might not be able to reach his lips, but she could sure give him the signal he was searching for. She slid her hands around to his rock-hard abs and then ran them up his chest. His skin was hot, and his heart thundered against her palm. When he lowered his cheek to hers and whispered, “Let’s get out of here,” she had to stop herself from thanking him.
They hurried along the beach hand in hand, closing the distance toward Pete’s house and stopping every few feet to kiss. Pete’s kisses were like a force unto themselves. His arms engulfed her, making her feel feminine and safe, as he explored every bit of her mouth with deep, lush strokes of his tongue. He didn’t just kiss her; he consumed her, claimed her with kisses that held promises of so much more. She’d never felt so desired in all her life.
Waves crashed against the rocks along the shore by his house. Jenna had known that he lived in Eastham, but she’d never been to his house, and when they’d dropped off the truck, they’d gone straight down the beach toward the music. Now, as they followed the sandy trail up the bluff to his house, she took it all in. The dark shingled home and enormous barn were outlined with white trim. Set against the backdrop of the night sky, his property felt welcoming. Pete’s hand tightened on hers, big as a bear paw, and if the way he’d held her when they were dancing and kissing was any indication, just as lethal.
When they reached the door, the bay breeze tousled Pete’s hair, and his eyes bored into her. His full lips curved up, and he pulled her into another deep kiss. A shiver ran down her spine at the realization of where they were heading. She hooked her finger into the waist of his jeans to keep her legs from wobbling. He didn’t say a word, and it was a good thing, because she was sure her nerves would have silenced her voice.
He opened the door and Joey bounded out, climbing Pete’s legs and whimpering with excitement.
“Hey, girl.” He crouched beside her and loved her up. Joey rolled onto her back, and Jenna joined him, petting Joey’s belly as she tried to lick her hands. Her nerves eased, until she glanced at Pete and their eyes locked. The space between them heated with unspoken desires. He reached for her hand, and Joey bounded away as Pete led her inside.
“Joey?” she said.
“Doggie door.” His voice was raspy and deep.
They walked through a tidy kitchen and into a warm living room. Sheer curtains billowed around open French doors that overlooked the bay. The breeze carried the crisp, salty scent of the bay, and when Pete drew her into his arms, it picked up his masculine scent and lust clutched her again. A whisper of worry floated through her mind. Erotic, sensual. It faded as quickly as it had come. She felt safe with Pete, and she knew he’d never force her to do anything she didn’t want to.