The Truest Thing (Hart's Boardwalk 4)

“You can’t tell me or you won’t tell me?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Hmm. What on earth had happened?

“You can always talk to me, Jack,” I offered. “I’m a vault.”

He chuckled unhappily, and the sound hurt my heart. “Why do you assume I have anything I need to talk about?”

“Because I don’t believe you just decided to join your father’s company and betray your best friend for the hell of it.”

The muscle in his jaw ticked. “Well, you’d be the only one.”

“I don’t think that’s true. But”—I bravely placed a hand on his arm, feeling a tingle in my fingers at the connection—“the longer this goes on, the less likely people are to forgive you.”

Jack abruptly stepped away from me, his expression shutting down. “I’m not asking for forgiveness.”

I deflated.

Embarrassment held me frozen as he turned and walked away.

What a stupid woman I was to assume that I could coax the truth out of Jack when no one else could.

I was about to retreat to my house when Jack stopped and spun back around. He marched through the sand, a fierce expression on his face. And my heart leapt into my throat when I realized he wasn’t slowing down as he came at me.

Then he was there, reaching for me, one hand clasping my nape in a demanding grip as he hauled me against him. His mouth captured mine as his other arm wrapped around my waist. My breasts crushed against his chest.

And he kissed me.

It was no simple brush of his lips across mine.

It wasn’t anything like the kiss I’d seen him give that tourist two and a half years ago.

This was the hungriest kiss I’d ever experienced in my life.

Jack’s tongue swept over mine in a dance that consumed. His kiss was deep. Thorough. I could taste coffee on his tongue. And his mouth was hot. So hot, his kiss scorched me from the inside out. I wanted more. I wanted everything. I kissed him back in open invitation, my fingers biting into his shoulders as I pushed into his mouth for more. His grip bruised as his groan vibrated down my throat, and I swear I felt seconds from fainting.

He was hard against my stomach and I whimpered, my lower body melting against him in mutual need.

Then, just as suddenly as he’d pulled me against him, Jack pushed me away. But he didn’t let go. He held me by the shoulders as he tried to catch his breath.

As we both tried to catch our breaths.

I knew.

I’d known from the moment I talked to Jack Devlin that his kiss would be the kind I’d waited for my entire life.

He squeezed my shoulders, his expression warring between desire and affection. “I had to do that.” His voice was hoarse, his tone almost apologetic. “I had to do that just once in my life.”

Then he r

eleased me.

He walked away.

And tears filled my eyes.

Because his words suggested I’d never experience a kiss like that again.