It Happened One Summer (It Happened One Summer 1)

She ran her nails down his hard, flexing butt and dug them in, whispering, “My boyfriend fucks me so right, I let him come inside me whenever he wants.” A smile, dazed and wicked, curved her lips when she snuck her middle finger down the split of his backside and cinched it inside the puckered entrance. “He knows just how to earn it.”

Piper had been hovering right on the edge of her own orgasm when she purred those last three words, but Brendan’s reaction pushed her even closer to oblivion. She watched through an opaque cloud of gathering bliss as he barked a shocked curse, his hips punching forward and back in desperation, neck tendons looking ready to snap. “Christ, I’m done. I’m done. And you better fucking come with me, Piper,” he rasped, reaching down and fondling her clit with his thumb. “I satisfy my girlfriend’s pussy every time.”

And, oh God—boom—she fired out of the cannon. Her knees shot up and hugged his body, back arching as she screamed, shook, slapped at his shoulders, all while tears rolled down her temples. It wouldn’t end. The hot, grinding pulsations wouldn’t end, especially when Brendan drove deep, deep inside of her, stilled and then shuddered violently, his hips moving in disjointed patterns, the volume of his moans rivaling her scream that still lingered in the air. She writhed underneath him, trying to find the bottom of the pleasure well, but until his mouth landed on hers, anchoring her, she didn’t realize . . . didn’t realize the bottom of the well wasn’t physical. She needed their emotional connection to calm herself down. Needed him, his heart, his Brendan-ness. As soon as their lips met, her heart sighed happily and rolled over, languidness traveling through her limbs and making her go boneless.

“Shhh, honey.” He breathed hard, his fingers shaking as they stroked the side of her face. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

She didn’t look away. “I know.”

Satisfaction filtered into his silver-green eyes. “Good.”

Brendan eased off of Piper and disappeared into the bathroom, coming back with zipped jeans and paper towels, wiping off the insides of her thighs and kissing sensitive spots as he cleaned. Then he joined her in the bed, both of them turning onto their sides, her back up against his chest, a possessive arm wrapped around her waist.

Piper was slipping into a drowsy slumber when Brendan rumbled the question in her ear. “So are we going to just not talk about the finger thing?”

The boat rocked steadily in the sunshine as they laughed and laughed some more. And five miles from land, it was easy to pretend no hard decisions would have to be made.

Sooner rather than later.

Chapter Twenty-Two

They pulled into Grays Harbor that evening. Brendan had planned to be back earlier, but Piper had fallen asleep on his chest, and a bulldozer couldn’t have moved him.

There she went again, changing his plans. Taking a red pen to his routines.

As he parked his truck in front of No Name and glanced across the console at Piper, he thought back to the conversation on the boat. They’d managed to clarify a lot of unspoken issues between them. His marriage, her fears about his profession, and most important, the way she viewed herself. All that talk, all that clearing the air, led to her staying in Westport, whether she was willing to discuss it yet or not. What would it take for her to consider it?

He was asking for a lot of sacrifice on Piper’s part. She would have to leave her home, her friends, and everything she’d ever known.

Hannah, too, eventually, when she went back to LA.

Simply breaking free of his patterns didn’t even come close to what he was asking of Piper. Compared to what—to whom—he would get in return, that was nothing.

And that bothered him. A lot.

Made him feel like a selfish bastard.

“Hey.” Piper leaned across to the driver’s seat and kissed his shoulder. “What’s with the scary frown?”

He shook his head, debating whether or not to be honest. There had been a lot of honesty between them on the boat, and it had cleared their most pressing obstacles. Made the apprehension of what was to come feel mitigated. Manageable. But he couldn’t bring himself to remind her of the unbalanced scales. Didn’t want her thinking about it or considering the issue too closely. Not yet, when he hadn’t been given enough time to find a solution.

Was there a fucking solution?

“I was just thinking about not having you in my bed tonight,” Brendan said finally, glad he didn’t need to lie. Not completely. “I want you there.”

“Me too.” She had the nerve to blush and avert her eyes after what they’d done on the boat? Goddamn. This woman. He wanted to spend decade upon decade deciphering all the little components that made her up. “But it’s not fair to Hannah. She’s in Westport because of me and I can’t keep leaving her alone.”