Текст книги "A Taste of Summer"
Автор книги: Beverly Preston
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
“I don’t know where the fuck that just came from.” Summer gave a quick, self-justifying, shake of his head. “But, I know one thing for certain, you’ve never looked more beautiful to me.”
His words hit her like a gale force wind. She felt the color leaching from her face as a bitter arctic storm, brutal in its force, brewed inside. Her heart sinking so low she could feel her pulse clear down to her toes.
Fighting back a full blown panic attack, she moved to her feet and peeled the sleeping pup from her chest, thrusting Aspen into his arms. She wasn’t even aware she was talking, but a muffled version of her voice hummed in her ears. “I’ll make breakfast.”
“Carrie Ann,” he pleaded in a guttural voice. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she answered despondently, oblivious to the tears already gathering in her eyes. Refusing to be in his presence for a second longer, she stomped out the door barefoot. Tremors wracked her body and uncontrollable emotions spilled down her face. She could scarcely breathe.
“You’re not fine.”
The blood raging through her veins made it hard for her to hear him, but she sensed his presence at her side. Catching her by the arm, he spun her to face him. Face averted, she firmly pressed the tips of her fingers to the sockets of her eyes, smearing away the show of weakness.
“Yes, I am.” She wrapped the shirt tightly around her body, shrinking further into despair.
“I’m trying to be patient. I need to understand why you’re so mad. I don’t even know if you understand why you’re so pissed at me right now. The other night…”
One arm came around the small of her back. He cradled Aspen like a football between them. Summer bent his head and nuzzled his cheek near her temple. The heat of his breath tickled the shell of her ear. “Here, take her for a minute.”
Without reluctance, she unlinked her fingers, smoothly accepting the handoff. The back of his knuckles swept along her jaw and neck. She sucked in a sharp breathe of air feeling his strong fingers delve into her loose bun, releasing the long dark layers with one easy motion. Loose, wavy locks pooled around her shoulders.
He spoke against her hair, lips brushing her cheek. “Talk to me. Tell me what you want. I’ll do anything, Red.”
With every breath, her chest expanded, trying to fill her lungs. She wanted to tell him that he couldn’t fix her, that part of her was broken and gone forever, and that he’d never forgive her, but the words refused to come. Anxiety tightened its grip, holding her concessions hostage.
Summer’s lips wandered to the corner of her mouth, nudging and caressing. Warily, he eased his mouth over hers, as if asking for permission. She opened partially, timidly moving her mouth with his. Carrie Ann wanted to enjoy the kiss, the unbearable sweetness of his mouth, so much so that it perplexed her, but she couldn’t offer full consent. She was twisted up inside, torn by shame. Big tears rolled down her nose, gathering along the crease of their joined lips.
Tasting the saline, he pulled back. Agony and confusion furrowed between his brows.
“I know what you want, Summer. But I’m not the same woman anymore.”
“I don’t understand what that means. You desperately wanted to be that woman the other night. I know you feel for me…you fucking told me so a dozen times. What’s the issue? I know it’s not that guy, Jason. You’ve had relationships…I’ve had relationships…they didn’t matter. None of them!”
She pitched backward, bobbling out of his clutches. Summer took half a step back. His stance turned rigid, every muscle flexed with frustration. The desire in his eyes hit her with another jolt of sadness. Her heart throbbed painfully. She ached all over with desire. Carrie Ann knew he could have any woman he wanted. Countless threw themselves at him on a daily basis. She so badly wanted to say yes, but it would come with a cost. A payment of knowledge she couldn’t afford to disclose.
“I can’t do this. I just need some space, Summer.”
The stiffness in his posture yielded, his expression withdrawn. Words slipped out painfully from behind clenched teeth. “You’ve had your space for years.”
“Just because you want to give us another shot doesn’t mean it’s going to automatically happen. Life doesn’t work that way. We don’t always get what we want.”
“Don’t you dare try to turn this around. I know exactly how life works, Carrie Ann. I don’t need a fucking reminder.” Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he took a step toward her, piercing her with a hard stare. “And just because my career comes with a big bank account, doesn’t mean I have everything I want. I’ve scratched, I’ve clawed, I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am. Success, fame, fortune…none of it really matters. Because when I reached the top of the mountain I’m still not happy. What I want the most is something I have zero control over!” He threw his arms out, muscles cording. “Oddly enough, that’s one of the things I always loved most about you…your pig-headed tenacity! But, right now it’s beginning to piss me off.”
Her lids fluttered in a fast blink.
“You want more space? Fine.” Summer shoved his hands back into his pockets. Heading for the cabin he murmured, “I must be crazy. A fucking idiot for torturing myself like this.”
Slow to move, she stood there stroking Aspen’s soft coat. Carrie Ann waited until he disappeared inside before retreating to her room for a shower. A veil of hot water cascaded over her shoulder, easing the pangs of remorse shooting through her. Throwing on a pair of boyfriend-cut jeans and a sweater, she took advantage of his “blend” time and snuck into the living room to retrieve her book.
Apparently she wasn’t near as stealth-like as she thought because he called out in a brusque, grumpy voice, “Help yourself. Fire is still burning in the barn if you plan on keeping warm.”
The slamming of the door drowned out any further complaints he spewed under his breath.
“I think he’s pissed.” Carrie Ann lifted the puppy’s face to hers. Her paws had barely touched the floor since she’d been accosted by the porcupine. “What do you think?”
Aspen answered with a slurp of the tongue right on Carrie Ann’s mouth.
“Ewww.”
Passing on breakfast, she poured a big cup of Joe and meandered back to the barn. A bottle of whiskey and Baileys sat atop the bar, so she added a substantial shot of each, giving it a stir with her index finger. She took a sip of the creamy goodness. Almost perfect. Rummaging behind the bar, she sorted through bottles until she found Kahlua. Just a splash added the perfect punch of extra coffee flavor.
Carrie Ann settled in beside the roaring fire, spending most of the day reading. Finding down time in her crazy schedule had become nearly impossible the last few years. A relaxing vacation still included a laptop, cellphone, and unlimited data. She found it compulsively necessary to check emails and messages daily. And what would a vacation be without posting fun-filled moments over social media. At some point during Chapter Twelve she found herself so entranced in the story, she wiggled in her seat holding a pee, not wanting to put the book down. Clinging to the pages, sitting on the toilet, it occurred to her that she hadn’t even so much as given modern technology a thought since climbing out of bed the first day.
Summer’d been nonexistent the entire afternoon. She stoked the fire, adding a few logs every hour or so and took Aspen for a few walks. All the while holding the book of course. After a few hours, she considered checking on him until she heard another round of axing and chopping, pummeling through a long grind of wood splitting.
It was late in the day when he decided to join her. Fresh from the shower, his hair still silky and wet. A rocks glass dangled from his fingers, sinking into the other end of the sofa.
“You plan on living up here during the winter?” she asked.
He slid her a questioning glance. The fire shed a glow of warmth across his tan skin.
“All that firewood you’ve been chopping…I thought maybe you were going to brave a Montana winter.”
Anything else she said would’ve bolstered an argument. The tense energy surrounding him, softened. He drew a full blown sexy grin behind the rim of his glass. “Well, I have to take my frustrations out on something, Red. Would you prefer…”
“No!” she giggled. A minute of quiet passed between them. “What are you drinking?”
“Whiskey. Try it.” He offered his glass. “I get it from a private distiller.”
Avoiding his fingers, she confiscated the tumbler. The decadent pale gold liquid twinkled in the clear tumbler, raising it to her lips.
“Personal chef, private distiller. Living the good life, ah?” The words came as a playful compliment, but in truth Summer had grown into a confident man. Time gifted him with an aura of relaxed poise and inner-strength that looked very, very good on him.
“In some aspects, yes. Still missing out on the best parts of life, though.”
Fuck. Fuckity-fuck. She continuously stepped, no…dove, head first, into her own traps. Desperately needing to fill her mouth with something, she took a long draw of the whiskey. Subtle layers of smoky heat balanced perfectly with smooth hidden hints of sweet buttery vanilla.
“Umm. That’s delicious. It’s got a little sweetness to it,” she assessed, taking another drink.
“It’s made with a bit of honey.” He shot her a lopsided grin, declining the half empty glass when she handed it back. “Go ahead and drink that one. I’ll get another.”
Gulping down another swig, she licked the wetness from her lips inspecting the flexing of his assets as he moseyed to the bar. A slow burn seeped through every nerve ending she possessed. Carrie Ann could’ve sworn she heard an internal sigh of pleasure from her hooha as it gave a little hug to her nether regions. Peering down at her crotch, she mentally wagged her finger from side-to-side in a scolding fashion. Oh no you didn’t! No, no, no!
Placing the drink on the coffee table, she pushed it out of her reach, and fell back into her book. Summer lowered into the cushions, one foot curled under his thigh, reading what she assumed was a script. She didn’t dare open her mouth until all effects of the alcohol left her body. The term lightweight was an understatement and whiskey always made her frisky.
Somewhere near the end of Chapter Seventeen, some serious action was about to go down, literally, under an oak tree in Montana. After six toe-curling pages of foreplay, the wealthy rancher started to seduce the city girl. He’d unbuttoned her sundress and slipped his fingers into…
“Is your book getting good?”
Carrie Ann jolted wildly at the sound of Summer’s voice.
“What?” she asked breathily. Her head popped up, eyeing him over the pages. “Yeah, it’s pretty good.”
“I figured.” He had the nerve to flash a haughty grin. “Your feet are wiggling a lot.”
Color flooded her cheeks. She scoffed, deriding his accusation, but failed to keep the edges of her mouth from lifting.
“You want me to read it to you? Judging by the shade of red you’re turning, I’m guessing it would be far more interesting than these scripts I’m reading.”
Clutching the paperback to her chest like a scared virgin, she attempted to turn the tables, “What are you reading?”
He played along, mercifully. “I’m going over several scripts my agent brought me. One in particular that he swears I’ll be perfect for.”
“You don’t sound very interested.”
“It’s not particularly in my wheelhouse.”
His disinterest surprised her, heightening her curiosity. “What’s it about?”
“The producers are pitching it as an erotic thriller. Think Fifty Shades meets Dexter. He’s a very dark character, which no matter how challenging, it’s just not something I want my name on. Plus, I’m not keen on being fully exposed for the world to see.” A throaty laugh rumbled in his chest. “However, it does have a big number attached to it, so my agent loves it. I can already tell by the premise that I’m not going to take the role.”
She smirked, squirming restlessly in her seat.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What’s what supposed to mean?”
“You just rolled your eyes at me, like you think I’m full of shit or something.”
“I’m sure your principles have boundaries, but…” she hesitated, shoulders winched up, tossing out an insignificant shrug. “It didn’t seem like you had a hard time making your last movie and it had a nude scene.”
And there it was again. On full display. Ryan Summer’s heart-stopping, cocky, motherfucking smile. “You jealous?”
“No.” She was.
A clash of wills ensued. He stared at her with glazed concentration. Carrie Ann sensed he had more to say, but patiently and silently, weighed his options.
“This might surprise you, but filming that scene has been the biggest challenge of my career.” She could tell he was serious. And it did surprise her. “It wasn’t believable.”
Her lip twitched and eyes took another rotation behind closed lids. She didn’t want to show any reaction, but she couldn’t stop the words from spewing out her mouth. “Looked believable to me. I’m sure practice makes perfect.”
“Practice made it worse. Not to mention, her husband insisted on being on set while filming the scene. He was totally into it.” His features scrunched in disgust. “Who the fuck would want to watch his wife making out with another man?”
Carrie Ann’s eyes drifted shut for a brief moment recalling the scene. Her fingers began to curl into the edges of her book.
“Anyway, it required a private conversation…some keen advice from Tommy for me to get through the scene.” He set the script on the table and stretched his long arm along the top of the couch. “He suggested I visualize Evie, the woman I was dating at the…”
“I know who she is,” she grumbled. Slamming the book on the table, she bolted to her feet, not wanting to have this conversation. By the time she reached the bar, Summer’s fingers hooked around the front of her hipbone.
“Tommy praised my efforts.”
“I’m sure he did.”
“He said, ‘You must really be crazy about Evie. That was one of the most passionate…’”
“You’re an asshole, you know that?” she spouted. Jealousy simmered. Carrie Ann couldn’t control it. She was shaking with it.
“I thanked him for the advice—” He spun her to face him, paralyzing her retreat with a solid grip to her arms, “and admitted that I wasn’t thinking about Evie.”
A scalding flash of raw emotions rushed through her veins hitting her chest like a molten red branding iron.
“I was thinking about you.”
A shudder of understanding rolled down her spine one vertebra at a time.
“It’s always you, Red. Always. No matter who I’m with, when I close my eyes, it’s you I see.”
“Are you telling me…that I was set up by Tommy? At the premier?” She yanked her arms free from his grip.
“It’s not like that.”
“Bullshit!” Her jaw clenched. She targeted the center of his broad chest and jabbed him forcefully with her index finger. “When I ran into you at the gym…did you know I’d be there?”
“No. Well, sort of. I’d heard that you’d joined my gym. Shayla mentioned it in passing, but when I ran into you, it was by chance.”
“And the premier?”
His lips parted, but only to draw in an edgy breath of air.
“Where’s that satellite phone? Can I text on that thing?”
“Carrie Ann, this has nothing to do with Tommy. They were only trying to help me out a little. I’ve spent a lot of time with them while…”
“Who is them? If I find out Shayla knew about this…”
“Calm down, Red. Shayla had nothing to do with it. Not really. I had dinner a few times with Tess and Tommy.”
“Give me your phone!” Springing toward him, she shoved her hands in his pockets. Carrie Ann delved through his jeans retrieving the bulky phone from the confines of his back pocket, she located contacts and pushed T.
Tommy Clemmins!!! You are in some serious trouble when I get back! FYI this is Carrie Ann!
“Don’t be mad at them, just because you’re too damn hot-headed to come to your senses. Big deal. So what. He gave you tickets to the premier.”
The phone vibrated in her hand. Hello, my dear. Enjoying Montana?
Between shaky fingers and the thin layer of perspiration gathering on the palms of her hands, she only managed two words. Not hardly!
“I planned to ask you to the premier as my date, but you didn’t even respond to the bouquet of roses I sent for your birthday.”
“I hate roses!” The shrill of her voice cut through the space between them like the swing of an axe.
“No you don’t.” He shook his head adamantly. “Red roses used to be your favorite.”
“Not anymore.” She was thrown into a panic, bombarded with a dozen urges to unload the burden and solitude she’d been carrying. Her self-control began to wither, anger tipped the scale. “Thanks to you I can’t even look at roses anymore. The smell makes my stomach turn. You ruined it for me. Just like everything else, Summer!”
They both fell silent. Nothing between them, but weighted air saturated with tension and remorse.
“You don’t like roses…because of me?” he ground, more as a painful statement of acknowledgement than a question.
Her eyes aimlessly searched the room, courage nowhere to be found, before landing on his shirtfront. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”
He showed zero emotion. “Yes you did. You’ve been holding that in for a long time.”
“Summer,” she said, unsteadily.
He held up a hand in restraint as if warning her off, but not before she caught a glimpse of anguish and turmoil forged across his face as he walked away.
Chapter Nine
‡
Carrie Ann hid beneath her covers, seeking refuge from the deafening cracks of lightning. Huddled on her side, she held one hand over her ear and the other over the pup’s, blocking out the rumble of thunder and high winds howling through the tall trees. Aspen panted, nudging Carrie Ann with her wet nose. Her hand trembled uncontrollably petting her head.
“It’s okay girl. It’s just a storm. It’s just lightning. It’ll be over soon.” She repeated the encouraging words attempting to bolster the tiniest amount of comfort for her and the dog.
Carrie Ann was already wide awake and hanging on every little noise when she heard Aspen’s nails clicking down the hallway in a fast trot. The puppy pushed open the door, scratching and whining at the edge of her bed. It took two whole seconds for Carrie Ann to snatch her by the belly and dive back under the blankets.
Carrie Ann suffered from an abnormal fear of lightning. Each time a bolt of electricity ripped through the heavens it brought back the terrible memory of the night her mother died. The image of her father’s large silhouette sitting at the edge of her bed in the darkness, still haunted her. His grief stricken face unrecognizable, disguised in ashen grey as a bolt of lightning broke through her window. Shadows of his mouth moved in slow motion delivering the horrible news that her mother wouldn’t be coming home. His promise…broken.
The California coastal fog had burned off early that Saturday morning. The calm before the storm delivered an unusually hot June day. The sun shined brightly, warming the top of her head as she played Barbie’s, watching her mom play tennis with a neighbor. Carrie Ann could never remember the precise moment her mother collapsed on the court. Her brain had blocked the horrific memory from her sub-conscious. However, she clearly remembered her father’s promise when he said that everything would be fine. He swore her mother would be okay. All the power her father fought so hard to earn wasn’t powerful enough to save her mother. His promise was broken. Nothing would ever be okay again.
A bright flash exploded in her room as another bolt of lightning crashed to the ground. Carrie Ann screeched out loud. Her feet hit the floor, pup in hand, rushing from her bedroom to the other side of the cabin.
“Summer?” she whispered thickly through the gap in the door. “Summer?”
Nothing had changed. The man could sleep through a tsunami warning. She eased the door open, swiftly tiptoeing across the room. He laid sprawled out on his back in the center of his bed. Silky white sheets draped to his waist. Dark shadows of the night hung in the dips and contours of his bare chest and abs. One arm rested at his side, the other thrown haphazardly above his head. Drinking in the stunning sight of him, she could hardly control her breathing. Her heart beat rapidly, the sound of it pulsed stridently in her ears.
“Summer, are you awake?” Scoffing at her own ridiculous question, she eased a hip onto the edge of his mattress so she could reach him.
He stirred restlessly, rearranging the arm above his head.
Carrie Ann extended an arm, the flat of her hand hovered above his chiseled physique, deciding where to touch him. The outline of muscular thigh bent to the side beneath the silky fabric. Temptation, powerful in its force, pulled at her hand like a magnet.
A shiver ran through her.
Warily, she touched her icy fingers his warm shoulder. “Summer?”
His eyes jarred wide with alarm. Summer lunged upright, swiftly grasping onto her upper arm. “Carrie Ann?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” she croaked. A fine layer of perspiration spread across her skin, dampening the thin material of her cotton tank top.
Mere inches separated their faces. He looked bewildered, blinking repeatedly to see if she was real. His hands wandered to the underside of her jaw, cupping her face. The confusion in his eyes replaced with lust. His fingers delved into her thick mane, gently clasping the base of her skull. The pressure felt divinely good.
“You came to me?” Hope clouded his whisper. His moist breath, rough and strained, drifting across her cheek on a billowy cloud.
Unable to make a coherent sentence, she sat silent, panting and quaking from head to toe. Her hands came to his arms, securing to his wrists, uncertain if she wanted to hold them there or pull them away. Aspen scampered from her lap taking ownership of his pillow.
Thunder roared through the black sky in a long drawn-out rumble, delivering a strike of lightning beyond his window. Her clammy fingers tugged at the dusting of dark hair covering his wrists as she squeezed, digging her nails into the flesh.
Summer dropped his forehead against hers. All the air pushed from his lungs in a deep, disillusioned sound of sympathy.
“Christ. It’s the lightning?” He drew her into his chest, arms closed around her, stroking her hair and back. “Come here, Red.”
She nodded weakly and went limp against him. Gripped by fear, her arms quaked violently, curling around his shoulders. Carrie Ann shimmied to get closer. Summer held her safe and secure, offering constant reassurance. “It’s okay. I’m right here. I got you, Red.”
Over the years, she’d tried cognitive behavioral techniques to calm her fear: soothing massages, visualization exercises, talking herself through the panic, but nothing calmed her nerves like the feeling of Summer’s embrace.
Clutching her shoulders, he coaxed her a few inches from his body. “You want to climb in here with me?”
Glimpsing downward at the sheet pooled around his very naked hips, she shook her head hotly. Her breathing slowly began to regulate, anxiously waiting for the next strike. She trembled from head to toe, peeling her nails from the muscles flanking his spine. “W…will you come sit with me in the living room?”
“Sure.”
Fisting the covers, he moved around her and stepped out of bed. Naked. Staring straight ahead, her lips parted releasing a small gasp, completely mesmerized by the sight of him, semi erect getting harder before her eyes. A shiver tingled up her spine, feeling the ghost of his hand slipping firmly into the mass of hair at her nape. She knew she should look away, but loneliness left her yearning for comfort.
Taking notice of her fascination, he paused. A quirk ticked the corner of his mouth. Summer caressed the side of her face, pinching her chin between his finger and thumb. Her mouth willingly opened a little wider.
“It’s not like you haven’t seen it before,” Summer repeated her words.
His voice slipped over her like the comfort of a favorite blanket, pulling a faint groan from her throat. Begrudgingly, she flicked her eyes upward finding his, but only for a moment. Her gaze dropped to the thick, jutting column protruding from a perfectly trimmed nest of dark hair. Twinges of need stabbed at her core, her chest needled with warning, and her mouth watered.
A flash of lightning weaved across the sky, slamming to the ground. The thunder ricocheted throughout her body. Summer pulled her to her feet and into his arms. The hot, solid length of him, rested against her abdomen with only a thin barrier of cotton between them.
“Your choice, Red. Would you like me to get dressed? Or if you’d prefer I can undress you. We can lay wherever you’d like. In front of the fire, my bed, your bed, the couch, the kitchen table…Hmm? It’s your call.”
The double question struck low in her abdomen, wickedly fingering a pleasure cord as if plucking pizzicato on a cello. The internal vibration wracked her head and heart in confusion. She’d built a barricade around her heart, safeguarding her raw emotions. Being near him the last few days chipped away at the armor. She didn’t know what she wanted. That’s a lie, Carrie Ann Lowell. You know exactly where you want him. As she instinctually licked her lips, she could feel the look of torment etching over her face. Her heart felt as if it were sitting on the stump outside waiting to be chopped in two, but her fucking vagina was ready to give the acceptance speech of a lifetime. I’d like to accept this penis…
He spoke into the curve of her scalp. “Let me throw some pants on and we’ll go lay on the couch. Okay?”
She nodded hotly, staying right beside him as he stepped into his walk-in closet.
“You coming in here with me?”
Her head bounced up and down. “P…power’s off. Besides, I’ve s…seen it before, remember.”
Carrie Ann couldn’t see his face in the blackness of the closet, but she heard him laugh. A shaky exhale, riddled with humor, caught in her chest. Summer’s hand wandered over her shoulder, guiding her out of the closet. She could easily make out the comfy jeans she’d seen him wear the other day, fly unbuttoned, and commando on full display. A bolt of electricity wracked her body, unbridling a deep ache between her thighs and it had nothing to do with the storm and everything to do with his damn jeans.
She could feel a band of soft cashmere wrapped around his fist. “What’s in your hand?”
“It’s the belt from my bathrobe.”
She stopped abruptly. “A belt? If you think for one second that you’re going to tie me up…”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Understanding sank in. “Have you lost your mind? I thought you might want to tie it around your eyes, not your wrists. Christ, Carrie Ann, the last thing I’d ever want to do is restrain you. You’re far too passionate and…” his voice trailed off. “I can’t talk about this anymore. My poor dick’s going to go into cardiac arrest at any moment.”
“Sorry.”
“Like hell you are.”
Delight seemed to be flowing from some unknown well of happiness because she couldn’t conceal the smile covering her face. She gripped the tail end of the belt, following him into the living room and remained glued to his side as he built a fire. Aspen sat on top of her feet, gnawing on a piece of bark.
“Where would you like to sit? You wanna lay down…put your head in my lap?” Humor colored his tone, nodding around the room. She shook her head. “Do you want to snuggle in the chair?”
Considering that she might possibly jump into his arms and cling to him like a koala bear during the next crack of thunder, she conceded. “Yeah, that’d be great, but I feel bad about the cardiac arrest you’ve got going on down there.”
“It’s alright. He’s been in solitary confinement for quite some time now.” A quiet laugh escaped him. “But, I’ll manage.”
The oversized chair was a perfect fit for two. He pulled her into his lap, her bum shifted to one side sinking into the empty void between his thigh and the cushiony armrest. Before she even had to ask, he lifted Aspen into her lap.
Summer began to drag his fingers through her hair, rubbing and squeezing the tense muscles at her nape. His hands moved in continuous comfort. “If I didn’t know how terrified they make you, I might’ve prayed for thunder and lightning a few days ago.”
He was only trying to make her smile. It worked. Her lips quivered lifting at the corners. “You’re p…probably thinking I should be over this by now?”
Her head listed forward, giving his roaming hands access to her upper back. His gifted fingers worked like magic, applying exquisite pressure to sore, stiff shoulder blades.
“Nah, I don’t think that at all. Sometimes we never get over the things that hurt the most. We just learn to exist with the scars.”
His newly acquired profoundness lost to the wonderment of his massage. Nature’s fury continued to rain down outside the cabin. Each strike tearing away her defenses, leaving her more and more vulnerable. Her need to escape, stifled by the longing building inside her.
Another bolt of light exploded outside the window. Her arms flew forward in a start. Summer made another sympathetic groan, rising to his feet with her in his arms.
“I promise I’ll behave,” he said, lowering her to the couch. Summer looped the soft belt between in his fingers. “You want to try this? It might block out the flashes.”
It took her minute to answer. Silently weighing reluctance with desperation, her face screwed into a tight scowl, but she nodded. The dark grey sash hung from the tip of his finger. She reached out, timidly taking hold of the center and pressed it to her closed eyes. He wrapped it around her head twice, she assumed for good measure, gently tying it at her nape.
In a soft melting voice, Summer assured, “If it doesn’t help then we’ll take it off. Just try to relax and take a couple deep breaths.”
The leather cushion compressed when he sat beside her. His arm came around her, coasting up and down her arm a few times before settling on the tender dip above her hip. He eased both of them back, stretching out long on the sofa. Stuffing a throw pillow under his head, he cuddled her into the crook of his arm. She laid on her side, hitching a leg over his. Her bum tucked into the crease of the couch, her front molded to the hard planes of his body.
