Her lousy reputation and even lousier choice in men had cost Ian his life.
“Hold on . . .” Brewmaster’s voice startled her. “Watch where you’re—”
Delaney turned toward him. The floor creaked and groaned, then gave with a loud crack. She gasped and dropped with the floor, then pitched sideways. She threw her hands out to break her fall, but hit a solid, warm body instead of the floor.
“Whoa, shit . . .” Brewmaster’s hold kept her from falling completely through, but she was already halfway there, one leg still dangling among splintered wood. “I should have known better.”
“Me, too. I’m obviously not as stable on these heels as I’d like to think.” Her hands curled into his shirt. And while she should have been worried about her leg and the decaying state of the century-old building, all her attention focused on the feel of his body—warm and hard, the smell of his skin—spicy and male. He was just what she needed to distract herself from the ugly guilt she’d been running from for years.
He shifted his grasp, wrapping one arm around her waist. “Are you hurt?”
Man, he felt so good pressed against her. The only thing that hurt was not going after what she wanted right here and now and living up to her previous reputation here in Wildwood. “I didn’t need that leg. I have another one.”
His huff of laughter warmed her temple. “Okay, hold still.”
“Says the human who’s never worn three-inch heels.”
“How would you know?”
“Oooh, you get more interesting by the minute.”
He eased into a crouch, and she balanced on one heel, bracing one hand on his shoulder, the other on his back—both were heavily muscled. Another zing of attraction bubbled through her blood.
“Hold on to me.” He wrapped those strong arms around her and pulled her off her feet. A squeak of surprise popped from her throat, and she braced herself on his shoulders as he took slow, measured steps back to the door. “We don’t need any more accidents.”
When he finally lowered her to the porch, they both sighed.
“Oh my God.” She released her hold on his shoulders and rested them against his chest, but she forced her mind out of the gutter as she gathered the will to step away from him. “I should never have tried this. I didn’t want to come, and I don’t want to stay. I just wanted to get this over with. I want this whole goddamned place gone.”
“Hold that thought, and everything else will fall into place.” Instead of letting her go, his hands moved gently up her back, sliding heat and silk across her skin and making her stomach float. “You’re good. I’ve got you.”
Suddenly she wasn’t quite sure where they stood. Somewhere past flirtation, yet still strangers. “I . . . um, really appreciate—”
One of his hands rose to her chin, lifting it until her eyes met his. Only he wasn’t looking her in the eye. His gaze was on her mouth. “You can thank me with a kiss.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He did what she would have expected from a man who exuded his level of charisma and simply lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.
Still, surprise fluttered beneath her ribs. Thoughts pinged around her skull. Then his lips moved over hers, and everything but the feel of his mouth vanished.
He pulled away just enough to break the kiss, but instantly came back for another, this one a sampling of her upper lip, placing his bottom lip between hers. She let her eyes slide closed, and a sound ebbed from his throat, one filled with need.
The hand at her chin moved to her jaw. The arm at her waist drew her into his body. His head tilted, his mouth opened, and when he kissed her again, the hunger in his hum transitioned to the kiss. A shock of pleasure sang down her spine, raising the sting of lust low in her belly. His hand slid into her hair, cupping her head as he took the kiss deeper, touching his tongue to hers.
The tang of his excellent beer lingered in his mouth, along with spice and fruit, heat and passion. He tested her acceptance of his lick, stroking her tongue tentatively, gently at first. By the tension stringing his body tight, by the ridged line of his erection indenting her lower belly, Delaney knew just how much he was holding back. And true to her old bad-girl Wildwood ways, she was already scheming how to get this man into bed after one kiss, because the way he licked her made her wet. The way he moaned into her mouth made her ache. And the way his hips pushed into hers nearly made her whimper.
She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and stretch her body along his, but he had her arms trapped low. All she could do was curl the fabric of his shirt into fists.
With a growl, he pulled out of the kiss and drew air. His hand combed through her hair. His other opened and closed on her waist, his arm still locked low on her back, holding her intimately against him.
“You have no idea how many times,” he said, breathing hard, “I’ve fantasized about kissing you.”
She looked up at him, way too tall without her shoes on. She’d have to climb him to reach his mouth again. Instead she slipped a hand between them and fisted the front of his shirt. “Look at me.” She waited for his dazed eyes to stop skimming her face and hold on her eyes. “Are you married?”
His brow pulled up in confusion. “No.”
She searched his eyes and found an open sincerity that quelled nerves lingering from the recent past. “Good.” She breathed the word in relief and pulled on his shirt. “Come down here, and I’ll do my best to exceed all your fantasies.”
Lust wiped away all confusion in his eyes, and she held his hot gaze right up until she pulled him into the kiss. Then she released his shirt, slid her hand around the back of his neck, and opened to him with a needy little sigh that made men crazy.