Forbidden Fling (Wildwood 1)

She shrugged and continued looking through the photos. “I wish I could go back in time and make different decisions. Wish people didn’t hold grudges. Wish I could walk away from this—”

When she stopped suddenly, Ethan glanced down at the picture in her hand. It was a Hart family selfie of sorts with all five of them huddled around a patch of cement decorated with handprints, the kids all holding up their cement-stained hands, big grins splitting their faces.

“Oh, man,” Ethan said. “That’s great.”

“Would have been great, if we could have stayed like that.”

The hurt in her voice touched a lonely place deep inside Ethan, the place that had formed after his family had turned on him. “Did everything fall apart because of your dad’s drinking?”

Delaney shook her head. “My dad’s drinking started after my mom left. I don’t know what started the split, though Phoebe thinks it was the crazy workweeks my dad put in at the bar. Once it opened, Phoebe said we never had any family life.” Delaney shrugged. “I guess my mom just got tired of it all.”

“I was thinking about that tonight,” Ethan confessed. “Wondering why my mom hasn’t left my dad for the same reason. And because he’s an asshole.”

She looked up at him, her eyes clear, her expression sincere. “She probably stayed for you. For you and Austin.” Turning her gaze back to the photos, she pushed them all together and straightened them like a deck of cards. “I don’t believe holding on to a bad marriage is healthy for anyone, but at least she cared about you enough to stay.”

“That makes you twice as amazing as any other woman, because you turned out this strong all on your own.”

She relaxed against him, her gaze distant. Ethan let the silence linger and absorbed the details of the moment that somehow seemed all encompassing—the beat of Delaney’s pulse in her slim neck, the length of her lashes, the slope of her adorable little nose, the fall of her hair, the delicious weight of her body against his, her scent, her warmth.

But more than anything, he soaked in the overwhelming, almost tangible comfort between them. They’d had this that night at his house. In between rounds of sex, they’d been instantly comfortable together, talking about nothing, teasing each other, falling asleep together, only for one to wake the other for more.

And, yes, that night had been unforgettable, but this, this was just as amazing in a whole different way. An even deeper way. And, God, he loved it. Loved just being with her. Her simple presence, her acceptance of his touch, healed whatever had been wounded at his parents’ house. Which was when he realized that was exactly why he’d come here tonight. Because something inside him had known she was the cure for his pain.

A bubble of anxiety welled up in the pit of his stomach. He’d never met anyone who could do that for him. He’d had a couple of girlfriends in college but nothing serious. And after his life went to hell when Ian died . . .

He’d never been able to connect with anyone after that. Never trusted anyone enough to give them that much real estate in his heart. Out-of-town hookups had been the answer for him. It was always easy to take a short drive to San Francisco and find a fun girl at a bar. Set out the rules up front—give, receive, and then leave without any worries, any ties. And without any of the complications or rumors that developed in a small town where his family was woven into the fabric of the community.

But Delaney was so different. Delaney seemed to shove everything else inside Ethan out of the

way, making room just for her. And looking back, he was beginning to think she’d done it in high school, too, just by being herself.

“You feel good.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but the desire thrumming from the words moved Ethan.

He turned his face into her neck, kissing her there, breathing her in and letting his air out on a soft moan, his entire body aching with the need to hold her, feel her, love her. “Come home with me.”

She groaned a sound of anguish. “God, no. I shouldn’t even be doing this.” She lifted her head and straightened away from him. “You need to go.”

“Hold on.” He held tight, keeping her on his lap. “We just had something, right there. Something really . . . great. Didn’t you feel it?”

Pulling her knees up, she pivoted on her butt until she sat sideways between his thighs. She gave him that you-should-know-better look. “It doesn’t matter what I feel.”

“It does matter.” He took her jaw in one hand, firmly keeping her eyes on his. “It matters to me. You feel it, don’t you? You want me, don’t you?”

She covered his hand with hers, curved her fingers around his, and smiled, but it was a sad smile. A you-silly-boy smile. “Ethan.” She shook her head. “We had a night. One night we both knew would end in the morning. This”—she gestured to the bar—“has just complicated everything.”

“Maybe it’s given us the opportunity to get to know each other instead of just walking out of each other’s lives,” he argued.

Her brow fell, and a funny smile quirked her mouth. “Have you been sampling too much of your own brew? ’Cause you’re really not thinking straight.” She rolled out of his lap and dropped the rest of the photos back into the box as she got to her feet. “I’m beat. I’m going to head back to Phoebe’s. And you need to get some sleep, Mr. Hayes. Maybe that will give you a little better perspective.”

Frustrated beyond reason, Ethan used the bar to haul himself to his feet. He gripped her waist with one hand and pulled her against him, then cupped her head with the other. With her back braced against the bar, he let his body weight sink into her until they were molded perfectly together. Until her lids were heavy. Until her breaths were shallow.

“Ethan . . .”

“That’s better,” he murmured, pleased with the ache filling her voice. He threaded his fingers a few inches into the hair at the base of her skull and massaged until her eyes fell closed and a groan ebbed from between her lips. “Much better.”

He kissed her, just whisper passes of his lips over hers, even though he wanted to devour her. Even when she arched toward him. Even when his entire body throbbed with a kind of need only Delaney created inside him.

He licked her lower lip. When she opened to him, he pulled back, breaking body contact.