Cape Cod Promises (Love on Rockwell Island 2)

Could that fantasy ever become a reality?

Hands in pockets, he reminded himself as he followed her out and checked the lock behind them. “There are certain parts of history that are worth replaying,” he said as he forgot his own reminder and draped an arm over her shoulder. When she stopped cold, he realized what he’d said and done.

“Everything feels so natural with you,” he admitted as she turned to face him on her front step. “Sometimes I forget that it’s been ten years.”

“I do, too,” she admitted. She was silent for a few moments, and he could see her weighing her thoughts before she finally admitted, “One minute I want to rip your clothes off, and the next I’m thinking about how long it’s been and how much has gone unsaid.”

He traced the edge of her jaw with his finger. “Reese.”

“And then you touch me like that and say my name like we’re in the bedroom and you’re about to… Ugh.” She threw her hands up in the air. “This is so hard.” She took one step away and spun around, eyes narrow with warning. “And don’t make a sexy comment about that either.”

Trent held his hands up in surrender even as he stepped closer and lowered his cheek to hers to whisper, “Just because something’s hard and just because it makes both of us nervous doesn’t mean it isn’t worth it, Reese. Worth absolutely everything.”

Chapter Twelve

THIS WAS THE exact moment Reese had both feared and desperately wanted since the very second she’d bumped into Trent a few days ago.

Her heart thundered in her chest as she fisted her hand in his black button-down shirt—the one that set off his smoldering blue eyes. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, which he knew drove her crazy. Damn him. She’d always loved to run her fingers through the smattering of hair on his chest. Trent was all man, and right here, right now, with his cheek pressed to hers and his warm breath whispering across her skin, she wanted him more than she ever had.

He drew back far enough to gaze into her eyes but remained close enough for her to see the starburst of gray surrounding his pupils, fusing with the blue that had gone nearly black with desire. She leaned in as he curled his fingers around the nape of her neck, and she couldn’t stop herself from brushing her lips lightly against his.

It was almost like a taunt of the way their lips used to crash together in a collision of hot passion and greed. Feeling his body pressed to hers, their hearts dancing to a frantic rhythm, made her body react like the past ten years had never existed. In that instant Reese knew she was in serious trouble. And when he slid his hand to the curve of her back she heard herself moan.

She had no business burying her fingers in his hair, but she was holding on to only a shred of rational thought, and it was fraying fast. He groaned, a needy, guttural sound that sent her brain firing again. She pushed from his arms, and swallowed hard against the desire to forget right from wrong and kiss him, because this wasn’t just some guy. This was Trent. But not the lawyer who gave up everything they had to climb his corporate ladder.

The mouth that had just brushed over hers, the hands that had caressed her, and the eyes that were staring back at her were those of the man she’d met a decade ago—and that was enough to scare her back to reality, because she knew he’d left that Trent behind ages ago.

“What was that?”

“Us,” he instantly replied. “Inescapable, unbreakable us.”

He was right. It was why she’d had to leave all those years ago—one touch from Trent could make her forget everything. She’d known it then, and she knew it now as she fought the urge to seal her lips over his and melt back into his arms. She took a step on shaky legs and reached for the car to steady herself while she tried to regain her resolve not to end up beneath his amazing body.

Reese was restless on the drive to Bay’s Edge as she fought to make herself keep distance between them when she desperately wanted to be closer. Her body was still vibrating from their near kiss, and she had to silently remind herself again and again that this was a talking outing, not a making-out date.

Trent parked, then came around to open her door. He reached for her hand, and electricity shot up her arm and through her chest like fireworks. How was she supposed to navigate between her new, even more powerful feelings and the underlying worries of repeating the past?

She had to ask him, “How are we going to do this?”