The Wrong Kind of Love (Boys of Jackson Harbor 1)

“Okay, well, she accidentally traveled back in time.”

“How do you accidentally travel back in time?”

“I think it has something to do with some druids, but . . .” She shakes her head. “Not important. Anyway, she has a husband back home, but in this time she had to marry this man, Jamie, and she’s falling for him.”

I only half listen as she continues her recap of the show. I get the impression she’s watched it a few times. Her face lights up when she talks about it, and I’m relieved to be discussing something other than my moonlight confession.

I couldn’t believe how the words poured out of me tonight. I never talk about Elena or what happened. I told my family it was a heart attack to spare them the grief, and if they suspect I was lying, they’ve never said so. But when I started telling Nic, it was like the story was sitting inside me, waiting for her.

“Are you ready?” she asks, waving to the TV.

“Whenever you are.”

She presses play, but after a few minutes, she throws her hand over her mouth then grabs the remote. “I forgot what happens in this episode.”

“Don’t change it. Now I’m invested.” I’m not, but I do want to know what she’s so embarrassed to have me see. My fingers brush hers as I take the remote from her hands and put it on my end table.

It turns out this show’s pretty hot, but even the characters undressing each other is nothing compared to how sweet Nic looks with those bright pink cheeks. As the characters on the television touch, she keeps her gaze fixed on the screen, as if she’s afraid to look at me. I want to know if she’s just embarrassed or if part of that flush is arousal.

“This is awkward,” she says, cutting her gaze to me.

“What’s awkward about it? We’re just a couple of people watching a TV show. Totally normal.” The woman on the screen drops to her knees. “Unless you’re turned on. I guess that might be a little awkward.”

“You couldn’t prove it if I was,” she says.

My gaze drops to her mouth. “I bet if I asked real nice, you’d let me find out for myself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you let me fuck you in the shower and then listened to me pour out my heart. I think you might have a soft spot where I’m concerned.”

She bites her bottom lip. “Maybe.”

Groaning, I shift so I’m sitting the long way on the sofa, one of my legs stretched out behind her, the other on the floor. I wrap a hand around her wrist and tug her toward me, guiding her to sit between my legs, her back to my front. “You can’t expect me to go to bed thinking about you being turned on and wanting something I know damn well I can give you myself.”

I sweep my hand down the front of her body, and her eyes float closed. I trail between her breasts, over her stomach, across the waistband of her sleep pants. My mind floods with images from our night together. Maybe I could resist if I didn’t know how good she tasted. Probably not.

I sweep her hair to one side and lower my face to her neck. “You smell so damn good. Do you know that? I go to bed at night, and your smell is everywhere. It’s gotta be in my head because I get to work and I still smell you on me.”

I graze my knuckles between her legs. She licks her lips before reaching above her head to thread a hand through my hair. I flatten my palm against her belly. “I was inside you without a condom in the shower.”

She gasps as I slide my hand into her sleep pants. “But we can be more careful.”

I was lost in the moment at the time, but I have no regrets. “I don’t need it if you don’t.”

Her eyes meet mine and she draws in a ragged breath. “I liked the way it felt.”

Those words send a bolt of pleasure down my spine, and I groan. Slowly, I lower my mouth to hers and start what I intend on being a long, slow seduction.

Nicole

“Stay,” he says against my neck.

I roll over in Ethan’s arms, tilting my face up so I can see his. He brought me to his bedroom at the cabin, and we fell asleep in each other’s arms. This morning, he woke me with his mouth and hands before the sun came up. We made love before saying a word to each other, and now the morning light is slipping through the curtains. “What?”

“Stay,” he says again. A hesitant smile hitches one corner of his mouth. “Lilly, she . . . I think you should stay. Don’t leave in February. Lilly’s already attached to you.” He props himself up on one hand and traces my jaw with the other. “And she’s not the only one. It turns out I’m pretty attached to you too.”