“That must be one amazing cupcake,” Hunter said, his legs making quick work of the yard that separated them.
A few seconds later, the swing dipped as he sank down next to Jenna and her stalled heart revved and bolted forward at breakneck speed.
“I could hear you clear across the yard,” Hunter added.
His jeans-clad thigh brushed hers and … uh-oh. He was wearing jeans. No boring-schmoring beige uniform tonight. Worn black jeans and a soft black T-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders and hugged his muscular biceps. He also wore a grin that said while he might be referring to the frosted goodie in her hand, he was thinking about something a lot more decadent when he said, “You were really into it.”
“It’s okay,” she managed after a distinct swallow. “I … That is,” another swallow and she managed, “what are you doing here?”
“Your door, remember?”
“You don’t have to…” she started, but then he caught her hand and the words scrambled.
“I promised. I know it’s just going to get torn down, but it’s nothing expensive. Just a good temporary to replace your old door until the demolition. So how about it?”
“About what?”
“Are you going to give me a taste of whatever it is that’s got you oohing and ahhing?”
She held out the last bite. “Help yourself.”
He took the cake, popped it into his mouth, and swallowed in one big gulp.
“See? It’s good, right? Chocolate Nirvana. One of Brandy’s specialties.”
“Your sister really knows her way around an oven!”
“She’s been baking since she was a kid. She used to fire up the stove every afternoon to make brownies or cookies or something. Our house always smelled like sugar.”
“My mom wasn’t much for baking,” Hunter said, his thigh brushing hers as the swing moved back and forth in a motion that was almost hypnotic. Her muscles eased and for the first time in weeks, she found herself relaxing. “She didn’t cook much either. She was always working.”
“Your mom was a paralegal, right?”
He nodded. “That’s how she met and married my dad. They worked together and so most nights were TV dinners for me and my brother when we were kids.”
“What about when you got older?”
“I ran on pure adrenaline most of the time. Food didn’t figure in. And when it did, it was usually burgers or chicken. You know, something fast.”
“I would have given anything for a burger instead of Callie’s mashed potatoes. She wasn’t much of a cook at first. She got better as the years went on. That, or we just got used to eating her stuff. Poor Brett.”
A warm chuckle sizzled over her nerve endings. “He doesn’t look the worse for wear. In fact, he looks damned good. I saw him the other day. He’s never looked so happy.”
“It’s crazy, right? They’re both from opposite sides of the fence, but they’re happy. I think Callie might be pregnant.” The words were out before she could stop them and she immediately caught her lip, trying to figure out why she’d blurted out something so important.
Private.
Because there was something mesmerizing about the steady motion of the swing and the close proximity of his warm body.
“I shouldn’t have said that. She just doesn’t know for sure and I’m sure she wouldn’t want people talking—”
“Your secret’s safe with me, Jenna.”
Silence closed in around them for a long moment and then the words started coming again, pouring out of her mouth of their own accord. “They’re going to tear down the house in a matter of days. I’ve got most everything out, but I’m still not ready.”
“A lot more packing to go?”
“Packing’s the easy part.” It was the letting go she was having more trouble with. The saying goodbye. The change. “As long as you’ve got plenty of boxes,” she rushed on, desperate to ignore the sudden rush of thoughts. “I need to pick up more. A lot more. Speaking of which, I should really get back inside—”
“But we’re not done here.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The cupcake was good, but I really need something else, he said, pushing to his feet.
“Like what?”
The swing bounced and shook as he turned and dropped to his knees in front of her. He reached for the waistband of her shorts. “Like this.”
“I don’t think…” she started, but then one strong finger touched her lips and she tasted salty skin and hot, sexy male.
“You think too much.” He unfastened the button and shimmied the material down her legs, his fingers grazing her sensitive skin along the way. “You’re too wound up. You need to try to relax. Forget the packing for a little while and just feel.”
“I…” She wanted to. She really did. But she’d spent her teenage years doing just that and it had gotten her nothing except a big, bad reputation.
And a few good memories, a voice whispered. She’d definitely had fun.
And suddenly a little harmless fun didn’t seem like such a bad thing. It wasn’t as if she was riding through town in front of God and the entire senior women’s prayer group. She was in back of her own house, away from the gossips and goodie-goodies.
Hunter was the only one here. In front of her. Surrounding her. Begging her to open up.
And she couldn’t help herself.
She did just that.
Her thighs fell open and he wedged himself between her knees. Heat swept through her and chased the oxygen from her lungs as his fingertips swept from her calves, up the outside of her knees, until his hands came to rest on her thighs.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for a very long time.”
“We only really met a few days ago.”
“Yeah, well it seems like fucking forever being so close to you and not touching you.” He touched his lips to the inside of her thigh just a few inches shy of her panties. “Not tasting you.”
He nibbled and licked and worked his way slowly toward the heart of her. She found herself opening her legs even wider, begging him closer.
He trailed his tongue over the silk veering her wet heat and pushed the material into her slit until her lips plumped on either side. “Christ, you’re so beautiful.” He trailed a fingertip over the sensitive flesh and a shiver gripped her. Her breath caught and she braced one hand on his shoulder. Her fingers curled into the sinewy flesh.
Her body tightened. Nerves pulsed, vibrated, faster and faster. Until she was wound so tight that she just knew she would shatter at any moment.
She didn’t.
Because it wasn’t enough.
There were too many barriers between them. Too many clothes.
As if he read her thoughts, he gripped the edge of her panties and she lifted her hips to accommodate him. The satin material slithered down her legs and landed in a puddle near her feet.
He caught her ankles and urged her knees over his shoulders. Large, strong hands slid under her ass and drew her to the edge of the swing. He tilted her just enough to better the angle and then he dipped his head.
He parted her with his tongue and lapped at her sensitive clit. He tasted and savored, his tongue stroking, plunging, driving her mindless until she came apart beneath him. A cry vibrated from her throat and joined the symphony of crickets that surrounded them.
Her heart beat a frantic pace for the next few moments as she tried to come to terms with what had just happened.
She’d said to hell with her transformation and backslid right back into her old ways.
That’s what she told herself, but she felt too alive, too friggin’ good to care at the moment.
Because as wrong as Hunter DeMassi was for her, he felt very right.
So much so that she closed her eyes and leaned her head back. She forgot all about the house and the packing and the letting go and just let the orgasm ripple over her for a long, delicious moment.
“We should take this inside,” he said when she managed to open her eyes.
Yes. That’s what she meant to say.
They should be inside, hidden away from anyone who might happen by because she had a newly won reputation to protect and so did he and, well, it wasn’t like they were a couple.
“I—I really don’t think we should be doing this.” The words came of their own accord, fueled by a crazy sense of hurt because they were all wrong for each other and he obviously knew it as much as she did.
And that’s bad because…?
It wasn’t. At least he wasn’t mentally planning a wedding like all the other nice guys in her past.
But then Hunter wasn’t so nice. She could see that now despite the front he put up. He was every bit the bad boy that fueled her fantasies.
Worse because all those bad-ass ways were wrapped up in a nice, respectable package. A man she could fall for. Lose her heart to.
She shot down the notion as soon as it reared its ugly head. One decent orgasm and she was already picking out china. Talk about hard up.
“I—I really should get back to work. I’m cleaning out kitchen cabinets.” She tugged on her shorts while he pushed to his feet. She scrambled to an upright position and fought with the button at her waistband.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Not that I didn’t enjoy it.” She snatched up her undies from the ground. “I did, but I shouldn’t have because you and I … Well, it just can’t happen. I’m really trying to change my image and, well, I don’t do one-night stands anymore.”
“Maybe I want more than a one-night stand.”
She pinned him with a stare. “I don’t do relationships either. Not right now. Things are too up in the air. I’m trying to get my life in order and this will only complicate things.”
“You’re right.” He reached for her waistband and slid the button easily into place, his gaze dark and knowing as he stared down at her.
As if he saw all the fears inside.
As if he shared them.
“You’re not my type and I’m not yours and this really is a bad idea. I should get busy with that door. That’s why I stopped by.”
Before she could respond, he kissed her roughly on the lips and headed for the house.
Jenna thought about following him, but that would just lead to another kiss and maybe another orgasm and, well, talk about a really bad idea.
She sank down onto the swing and settled in for the next hour, until she heard the rumble of his SUV in the distance and the fade of the engine as he headed back to town.
Yep, Hunter DeMassi was a bad idea. The worst she’d had in a long, long time.
And damned if that didn’t make her want him that much more.
She thought about the letters, about how Clara fooled her family into thinking that she was the perfect daughter. But deep down, she never changed. She never stopped loving the father of her child. She never stopped begging P.J. for his forgiveness.
Because deep down, she’d been the same wild, wanton girl who’d fallen in love with him in the first place.
Now and always …
The truth followed Jenna back inside, along with her unsatisfied hunger, and ate at her as she tried to pack up the kitchen and convince herself that she was really and truly making progress.
Cleaning up her life.
Changing it.
But deep down, she couldn’t shake the gut feeling that she was the same girl she’d always been. That she was stuck. In the same town with the same reputation and the same uncontrollable urges that had led her down the wild and wicked path in the first place.
If only that notion still bothered her half as much as it once had.