The House on Blackberry Hill (Jewell Cove 1)

Summer hadn’t been kidding. Shirtless, Tom was a fantastic specimen of perfection.

“It’s only fair,” he said, his voice somehow rough and silky at the same time as he reached for the buttons of her top. In no time he had it spread open and pushed it off her shoulders. Self-conscious now, she stood before him in cutoff shorts and a white bra. She was so out of practice. So unsure of what to do, wondering if he expected her to make the next move or if he would just take the lead …

Tom reached for the cotton and Abby held her breath. Slowly he unclasped it, sliding it off her breasts, revealing her to both his eyes and his hands.

He cupped her breast in his hand, their eyes met, and everything changed.

There was an urgency now, a desperation in both of them, as Tom claimed her lips once more in a scorching kiss. As he explored the inside of her mouth with his tongue, his hand, large and deliciously callused, shaped her breast. She had a fleeting attack of nerves before pleasure wiped all coherent thoughts from her head.

Needing to touch him, Abby experimented by rubbing her hand along the ridge of his zipper. He made a sound in her mouth, the vibration rolling through her like a drug.

That sexy sound only increased the urgency of the moment. Would they do it right here? On the hard tile of the kitchen floor? There was no counter, no table, no nothing other than a TV tray and a patio chair for furniture. Tom’s hand slid from her breast to her bottom, pulling her flush against him.

He looked at her again and she reveled in the realization that his eyes were black with desire and hunger and it was all for

her. He swept his arm beneath her legs and lifted her into his embrace. Their abandoned clothing lay on the kitchen floor as he took the stairs to her room.

He put her down on the white duvet and untied his boots, shoving them off his feet and leaving them by the bed.

The first hot contact of his mouth on her breast made her cry out. Her eyelids slammed shut as she arched her shoulders, pressing herself more firmly against his lips. The weight on the mattress changed as he knelt beside her, gently teasing her skin as her heartbeat rocketed through her body, pulsing at sensitive points. His teeth scissored lightly and she gasped, surprised at the pain/pleasure response. But as Tom reached for the button of her shorts, something more crept in, speaking louder than her libido. Doubt. She froze.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, his fingers halting on her zipper.

“Nothing,” she answered back, and he pushed the zipper down. Slid the shorts over her hips until she was clothed only in the plain bikini panties she’d put on after her shower.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, lying propped up on his elbow. He stroked down her arm with a fingertip, then across her belly to the band of her panties. “So goddamned beautiful.”

Oh, God. Her eyelids grew heavy, hypnotized by the soft touch of his hand and huskiness of his voice.

“Abby.”

She opened her eyes.

“We can go as slow as you want,” he said, making her feel all liquidy and jacked up at the same time. “There’s no rush.”

“I don’t … I mean I haven’t…” She tried to focus on what she was saying rather than the feel of his hand as it slid lower. But her body took over and she arched up to meet his touch. “It’s been a while,” she breathed.

Which was the understatement of the year.

“For me, too,” he said. “Do you want me to stop?”

That he would even ask made her want to weep. Where had this tenderness come from? It had stopped being frantic and hot and was quickly becoming something more. Something … important. She shook her head.

Tom slid his fingers to the waistband of her panties and drew them down her legs.

She was completely naked. Shyness overtook her until Tom’s gaze settled on hers. “Slowly,” he said, his voice low with promise. “It’s better slower.”

He stood by the bed and took off his jeans but paused to reach inside his wallet for a condom.

Abby’s misgivings kicked in again. He said they’d go slow but everything seemed to be moving too fast. Looking up at him, she felt a pang in her chest—this man was someone she could really care about. Someone who had the power to ultimately hurt her. She couldn’t do this. She didn’t know how to be easygoing about making love, and what else could this be? No promises or commitments had been made. She braced up on her elbows.

“Stop,” she whispered. “I was wrong. I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. She shouldn’t have let it get this far. She should have known she wasn’t ready. She reached for the blanket at the bottom of the bed and scrambled to cover herself, to feel less naked. It didn’t work. Her body was covered but the rest of her felt horribly transparent.

He tucked the condom back into his wallet. Reached for his jeans and pulled them on, but left them unbuttoned so that the tiny vee of skin below his navel was still visible. It was sexy as hell. She still found him irresistible, she realized. Even though she wasn’t ready, she wished she was.

“I’m sorry, Tom, it’s all…” she started.