Love Me if You Dare Read online

  And then she came, crying out, rocking roughly on him, and he felt it racing through her whole body, jolting her, consuming her for those few seconds in time. And though he took pride in being a generous lover, he couldn’t remember a time when a woman’s climax had been enough to make him come, too—but it did. With no means to control it, and no wish to, either, Reece pounded his orgasm into her sweet body, again, again, again, letting it all spill out of him.

  Afterward, she gently collapsed onto him, her breasts and tummy warm and moist with the perspiration they’d generated. His arms closed around her, fulfillment dropping over him like a blanket.

  They lay together quietly that way, their bodies still connected, until she asked softly, “So were you right? Was it worth it?”

  “Oh my God, are you kidding?” he murmured, still weakened from it all. “Let’s do it again.”

  THEY slept. The lights and TV were still on, and the office door still unlocked, so when Reece awakened about an hour later, he got up and walked around, making things quieter and darker, and locking up.

  When he re-entered the bedroom, he saw by the dim lighting of a lamp still on beside the bed that Cami had at some point shed her bra and tank top and lay completely naked now, stretched out amid tangled sheets.

  Had it been worth it, she’d wanted to know. Hell yes. He wasn’t sorry. How could he be?

  He’d truly not left his living room earlier ready to dive headlong into this with her—he’d only been heading out to lock the front door before going to bed. But when he’d seen her there, bent down over Fifi, she’d looked so casual, natural, her hair shoved unthinkingly back behind her ears. And she’d been studying the iguana as if . . . she were really trying to know her, maybe trying to understand why Reece cared about her. Her expression had held a sense of searching . . . and innocence. And a beauty that defied description.

  So . . . no regrets about what they’d just done, none at all.

  It would be like she said—it wouldn’t affect their business dealings.

  And hell, for the first time it hit him that, at worst, maybe it would work in his favor—maybe she’d be into him enough that she’d give up on buying the Happy Crab and let him live here in peace.

  That wasn’t a motive, not at all—he’d accepted that by sleeping with her, he was sleeping with all of her, including the piranha part—but he wouldn’t mind getting a happy by-product out of it.

  God, she really was beautiful. He liked her hair tousled. Of course, he guessed he’d seen it that way before—on the boat, and even mussed from the constant sea breeze blowing in off the gulf. But maybe seeing it messy from sex, messy spread across his pillow, was something he felt deeper, in his gut.

  And her medium breasts were perfect. Of course, he was a guy—he liked most breasts—but hers were among the prettiest he’d ever seen, her nipples erect even in sleep.

  In fact, just studying her now began to turn him on again. Fast. A glance down revealed a massively growing hard-on.

  And in one way, he hated to wake her up. He hated to wake up anyone sleeping. It was just a thing with him—he’d gone through a period about ten years ago where sleep had been hard to come by, so he respected it.

  And yet . . . he had no idea how long she would stay in his life. For all he knew, she could be gone tomorrow—literally. And knowing that her exit, in some aspects, would actually be a good thing and lift a heavy weight from his life, gnawed at his stomach. Because how could he want her gone? He liked her, a lot. And now they’d connected in a whole new, intense way.

  And so he decided waking her, gently, would be okay.

  She lay on her side, one arm curled under the pillow, so he eased into bed behind her, sliding his palm onto her bare hip, loosely spooning her.

  She shifted, just enough to press herself back into his warmth. And into something else, too—which made her gasp ever-so-lightly before she murmured a pleased-sounding, “Oh.”

  “Find something you like, Tinkerbell?” he whispered throatily in her ear.

  “Uh huh,” she breathed, and pressed further.

  A low groan escaped him and he wanted nothing more than to ease his rock-hard erection into her soft warmth—but he stopped, took the time to find another condom and put it on. When he leaned back against her there afterward, she let out a hot sigh and whispered, “Please.” Damn, he liked when she did that.

  So he wasted no time entering her sweet heat again, both of them moaning as he slid slowly deeper, deepest. He began to move in her, and maybe it was a lack of inhibition from doing this fresh out of sleep, but in mere seconds, their bodies were rocking together with what felt like the power of a locomotive, until at some point, she moved onto her hands and knees as he plunged into her from the back, both of them panting and groaning their pleasure.

  At some point, Reece looked down, took in the slender curves of her body before him, the fall of her hair, the newly acquired tan lines stretching across the middle of her back and low on her hips. But soon he closed his eyes and just got lost in the sensations. Not just what it felt like to thrust into such snug warmth over and over again, but the sounds she made, and the very smells in the air: sea and sand, the kind that permeated even walls over time when you lived at the beach, and the faint scent of a blueberry bagel he’d put in the toaster for a late night snack right before all this had started.

  He’d liked it earlier when she’d taken control in bed, but he also liked now, liked having taken it back. He liked the heated push and pull of it. The exchange. The rhythm their sex had already taken on reminded him of Cami herself—sometimes hot and hard, other times sweeter and softer.

  “Aw—baby, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come in you,” he warned her—because it snuck up on him fast and, like before, there was no stopping it.

  And she said, “Yes, oh yes—come. I want to make you come.”

  And holy hell—that pushed him right over the edge.

  Afterward, when he’d collapsed atop her, kissing her neck, aware that sleep would probably grab him even quicker this time, he said, “I’m sorry, Tink,” near her ear.

  “Sorry?” She sounded perplexed, turning to meet his eyes.

  He gave her a sleepy, self-deprecating grin. “That one got away from me. I didn’t mean to finish before you.”

  “I don’t mind,” she told him. “Don’t get me wrong, but for me . . . orgasm can be overrated. I’m more about all of it. Just how it feels. To have you inside me. To move together.”

  “Damn, that’s generous.” And kind of hot, he thought.

  A soft trill of laughter spilled from her, light and carefree. “Who knows, maybe I’ll change my mind tomorrow, but for tonight, that’s what I liked best. Just all the heat of it, you know?”

  Reece drifted off into post-climax slumber, two thoughts floating through his brain. Who’d have thought this woman would turn out to be his perfect lover? And why, of all the women in the world, did his perfect lover have to be also trying to end his life as he knew it?

  “But who is he, my pet?”

  J. M. Barrie, Peter and Wendy

  Chapter 15

  CAMI MOVED quietly through Reece’s apartment, naked, still surprised by it all, and a little startled to discover she liked feeling so immersed in his world. The lights were mostly out, so she was careful to watch for Fifi, who she figured could be anywhere. Fortunately, windows admitted a glow from the neon signs and streetlamps outside.

  After passing through the living room, she entered a small kitchen done in what she couldn’t help thinking of as “Happy Crab red”—it sported circa 1950s appliances and cabinetry, all in shockingly good shape, and even a red Formica table. Spotting a bagel in the toaster, and an open jar of jelly, she wrapped the bagel in some paper towels on the counter and put the jelly back in the small but tidy fridge.

  Turning back, she soon came upon a little bathroom, also done in the Happy Crab’s signature color, complete with the popular tiling of the era—in red and white�
�around the sink and shower. She found herself both intrigued and a little astonished to discover such classic vintage interior elements tucked away in a place you might least expect to—a failing row motel whose glory days were long past.

  It was the bathroom she’d been seeking in the first place before indulging the urge to wander, so she proceeded to wash up a bit before heading back to Reece and bed.

  A dim lamp remained lit in the bedroom, letting her see how sexy he looked lying there asleep with his mussed hair and scruffy face. She’d just had the best sex of her life with him. Had she really only met him less than a week ago? That didn’t seem possible. But sometimes the world worked in mysterious ways.

  She reexamined her own thought then: best sex. There was no doubt of that in her mind but . . . what made it the best? Because there were pretty major intimate things they hadn’t even done yet. And it was the very first time, so it should have lacked the comfort that grows with familiarity. She barely knew him, in fact, now that she really thought about it, and they had so little in common.

  Maybe it was the best because of how something in him had begun to soften something in her. Or . . . maybe those parts of her were there all the time, but she didn’t let them show—only Reece had seen them early on and after that she just hadn’t bothered hiding them.

  Was there something about this place, the people here, that made it . . . easier to be softer? Maybe the town and people themselves held a certain kindness, openness, which life up to now had mostly taught her to keep hidden. Maybe Coral Cove somehow drew it out of her. Even if it had originally been revealed by the unlikelihood of finding a “dinosaur” in her bathtub.

  Regardless, she knew Reece had seen sides of her usually kept private. And she supposed in bed it had been the same. And it had happened so naturally, without a thought.

  He knows me better now than . . . well, than most people, in ways.

  How strange that seemed. Reece already knew sides of her that she hadn’t shown, ever, to people she’d worked with for nearly a dozen years, people she considered the closest thing she had to family.

  She found her gaze drifting from the man who’d just brought her so much pleasure to other things in the room—pictures on the walls. Mostly of people she didn’t know. She walked around the bed to study them anyway.

  In one, of a family, she figured out she was actually looking at a young Reece, as a teenager, standing next to his parents, and maybe a sister? Predictably, he’d been cute then, too.

  “Yep, it’s me, Tink.”

  She turned to study the man in bed. Odd how comfortable she was being naked with him already. “Your family?” she asked.

  He gave a lazy nod against a pillow.

  And she suffered the burning urge to ask other simple questions, the kind that would be entirely normal if she didn’t know his parents had died: Where are they now? Do they still live nearby? Do you see them often? But even as the inquiries lay on the tip of her tongue, she couldn’t bring herself to do it, to put him through it. She wasn’t sure why. You are going way too soft here. So instead she just said, “You look like your dad.” Because he did.

  “Yeah, before he lost his hair,” he said on a light laugh. In the picture, Reece’s father still had pretty much. “And Lisa took after my mom.”

  Cami’s heart skipped a beat. “Lisa? As in the Lisa Renee?” The boat out back. Though they’d never discussed it.

  “Yeah,” Reece said easily. “Dad bought the boat right after she was born. I was four and pissed as hell they were naming the boat after her. But he explained about boats being named for girls and bought me a puppy and I got over it.” He ended on another gentle laugh that perhaps held a hint of wistfulness. Or maybe she was reading too much into it.

  And why was she actually relieved to learn the boat was named after his sister? Why did she even care?

  Because deep inside, you wondered what woman was dear enough for Reece to name his boat for. You felt jealous of someone who Reece loved that much, who Reece shone his particular brand of light down on so brightly. You wanted to know how that felt.

  She bit her lip, pushing back such troubling realizations. And she wanted to ask more about his family, but she didn’t. Though it was hard to believe he hadn’t used this opportunity to mention his parents were no longer alive. The reference to his dad’s hair almost implied that he was still . . . somewhere. This was the perfect time to tell her—and most people would have—so why hadn’t he?

  She began to wonder exactly how long ago the tragic loss of his parents had taken place. Was he not over it yet?

  Then again, if you had parents you loved and they died young, how long did it take to get over it? Or did you ever? She didn’t know—she couldn’t fathom such a thing. For many reasons, one of them being that she’d never felt close to her mom and dad.

  “Tell me about the boat,” she said, finally climbing back under the sheets with him. It seemed a less personal thing to ask about.

  “Just a boat,” he said, rolling to his back in bed next to her, not meeting her eyes.

  A beautiful boat, in fact. So not just a boat. “Take it out much?” she asked, propping on one elbow to peer down at him.

  “No,” he said with a slight shake of his head, his hands cupped behind it.

  “Why not?”

  He shrugged. “No reason.”

  He seemed completely disinterested in the conversation at this point, yet she felt the need to give him her unasked for opinion anyway. “Seems like it would be nice for sunset cruises—you could offer that to your guests in addition to snorkeling trips.”

  Hands still behind his head, he tossed her a matter-of-fact glance, eyes shaded. “You’re giving me business ideas now? For a business you want to see razed to the ground.”

  Now she tried to shrug it off, too. “It was just an idea. You could make good money with those boats. You could draw more motel guests by advertising excursions as part of the stay, or you could make them a whole separate earner.”

  Now he looked at her more directly, one eyebrow lifting suspiciously. “Trying to find me a new business to get into, Tinkerbell?”

  “Not really.” And she honestly wasn’t. Trying to make the most of things just came naturally to her. “I’m more talking about capitalizing on what’s already here. This town could use some businesses like that—snorkeling trips, sunset wine and cheese cruises. With all the resort business up the road, you could make a killing on that alone.”

  Yet he still eyed her critically.

  So she widened her gaze on him. “And seriously, I’m just thinking out loud here. About things that would help the town. You love it so much, maybe you should pay attention to me—I’m smart about stuff like that.”

  He still appeared doubtful, though. His voice wasn’t harsh but just probing when he said, “I still don’t get why you’d be trying to help me here when it’s at odds with your goal.”

  She pursed her lips, thinking that over. “I’m not sure I agree. Replacing the Happy Crab with more modern accommodations and wanting to be helpful to you aren’t mutually exclusive.” Though then she let out a sigh, adding, “But I guess from your vantage point, they would be.”

  “And besides,” he said, “I thought we agreed that if we ended up here together like this”—he then moved his finger back and forth between them, indicating their nakedness—“that it would be a nice little no-strings arrangement, separate from business.”

  “It is,” she assured him easily. “I guess I just can’t stop my brain from spinning ways to make things better.” Though why did the reminder about there being no strings sting a little?

  Now, finally, his eyes changed—they suddenly held sex in them again as he said, “Well, afraid you’ll have to forgive me if I’m appreciating other parts of you besides your brain while you’re lying here next to me with no clothes on.”

  It made her forget her reaction to what he’d just said, forcing her focus wholly into the present moment. “U
m, which parts?”

  His eyes dropped to her breasts, visible above covers pulled only to their waists, and he reached out to trace a circle around one nipple with his fingertip before moving his touch to the other to repeat the motion. “These,” he said as the effects of the ever-so-light caresses trickled straight to the juncture of her thighs.

  “And this one,” he added, sliding his hand beneath the sheets to smoothly dip his fingers between her legs.

  A soft gasp escaped her as the pleasure spread through her.

  And she breathily managed to inform him, “Um, it’s safe to say that they appreciate you, too.” Then, as he leaned in to kiss her, she wrapped her legs around his hips in order to appreciate him a little more.

  CAMI didn’t know how to feel when she woke up to daylight and a scrawled note from Reece.

  Headed out for morning walk on the beach. Help yourself to anything you want and I’ll see you later.

  She noticed he hadn’t invited her for a walk on the beach. So maybe this was how he politely gave a woman the old heave-ho. Or at least made it clear that he wasn’t suddenly crazy about her or anything.

  So she toasted another of the blueberry bagels she found in a twist-tie bag atop the fridge, then headed back to her room.

  She also didn’t know how to feel when she caught herself scanning the part of the beach within view as she made the “walk of shame” back to Room 11. She didn’t feel shamed—she just knew that if anyone saw her coming out of Reece’s apartment this early in the morning she would probably be embarrassed. Camille wouldn’t have. But Cami . . . well, undoubtedly there were disadvantages to the softer sides of her personality that Reece and this place seemed to draw out of her. But she didn’t see Reece or anyone else, so maybe it didn’t matter.

  She didn’t know how to feel when she walked into her room to find a yellow cat curled up on her bed and realized that she was, again, actually happy to see him. The room would have felt empty otherwise, and maybe a little lonely under the circumstances of feeling so uncertain about Reece.