Reckless Hearts (Oak Harbor #2)(21)

“Not with me,” Will says softly, lifting my hand to his lips. He brushes a soft kiss over the back of my knuckles, keeping his steady gaze fixed on mine. He turns my hand over, kissing my palm this time, a slow whisper of contact that sends shivers racing through my entire body. I can’t look away. He kisses my wrist, the hollow of my elbow, all the way up to my bare shoulder, leaning close, pressing me back against the wall with a look of such intensity in his eyes, it takes my breath away.

Heat floods through me. Will bends his head, continuing his slow, devastating trail of kisses along my collarbone, and up the sensitive curve of my neck.

Oh . . .

His fingertips caress my other arm, then tilt my chin to the side as he dips and kisses my throat, all the way up to the corner of my mouth. I turn, eager to capture his mouth with mine, but Will just moves to the other side of my neck, his mouth roving, hot and growing in hunger.

God, it feels so good.

My senses are alight, every soft touch swooping through my body in a wave of heat and pulsing desire. My thighs clench, just the whisper of his fingertips and teasing mouth enough to make me ache for him.

All of him.

I reach to pull him in closer, but Will takes my hands and slowly pins them up against the wall by my head, watching me with that unreadable hazel stare. My pulse kicks at the dominant gesture of his firm grip; my body arches towards him in anticipation, but Will just smiles.

“You don’t know me yet,” he says softly. “But I’m a man of my word. So as much as I want to f*ck you the way you deserve to be f*cked, I’m going to keep my promises. At least for tonight.”

His dirty words send a shudder through me. Will sees, and his lips curl in a triumphant smile. He leans in closer, until his lips brush my ear. “I don’t know why you’ve got those walls built so high,” he murmurs in my ear, still pinning me in place. “But sooner or later, you’re going to realize I’m not like the other guys. I don’t play games, I don’t run scared because a woman wants to call the shots. I can give you everything you need. Everything,” he says, his eyes flashing with sensual promise.

“So you just take your time,” Will says, sliding his thumb over my damp, open lips. “And when you’re ready for a real man to show you what it feels like, you just let me know.”

He releases my wrists, and then he’s gone: sauntering away into the darkness, leaving me weak-kneed and dizzy in my doorway—and so turned on, I could melt into a pool of pure desire.

And he didn’t even kiss me goodnight.





Eight.


Will’s parting words sound awfully like a challenge—the kind I’m usually only too happy to take. Any other man, and I would be plotting ways to seduce him by now, to cut right to the end of the chase and get to the part that has us in bed, driving each other wild.

But he said it himself, Will’s not playing games.

I throw myself into work for the next week to distract myself, showing houses and drumming up new listings, but still, his steady stare finds a way to infiltrate all my quiet moments, making my heart beat faster at the memory of his wicked promise, and my body ache, reliving every soft, devastating touch. It’s tantalizing—and still so far out of reach. I’ve had just enough of him to know he can make good on his word, but not enough to even be close to satisfied. Damn it, this man knows exactly what he’s doing, and for some reason, he’s set on driving me crazy.

It’s working.

I vow to put him out of my mind, but instead, I find myself watching out for him all over town. At the rate I’ve been running into him, I half-expect to see him around every corner, but instead, it’s like he’s disappeared. No calls, no texts, no running into him at the market over a stand of fresh peach jam; I should be relieved, but instead, it’s like an itch I just can’t scratch. Too many nights I’ve fantasized about getting in my car and driving over to his place: just showing up on his doorstep in my skimpy lingerie—and nothing else. He said to come find him, and I know where he lives, but still, something’s holding me back.

When you’re ready for a real man . . .

His words turn over in the back of my brain, tempting me. There’s no doubt he’s all man, but the real question is, am I ready for him? I’ve told him straight-up that I’m not interested in a relationship, but something tells me he’s not a guy who’ll settle for anything less.

With him, it would be all or nothing. Sink or swim. I can already tell the fall would be incredible.

But what if I find myself drowning in the end?

“I know Kit’s pre-school gossip isn’t exactly red-hot news, you could at least pretend to be listening to me.”

I look up. Lottie is sitting on the park bench with me, snatching a lunch break while Kit plays nearby. “Sorry.” I give an apologetic smile. “Just thinking about . . . work stuff.”

“Sure.” She smirks.

“Things are really busy at the office,” I insist. “Thanks to Fran’s tips, I managed to land a couple of new clients this week, and I have a meeting with Marcie this afternoon.”

“So the hot, rich craftsman has nothing to do with it?”

My head whips around. “I never said that—”

“Relax,” she interrupts, grinning. “I got all the gossip from Sawyer. So, Will was a big-shot Wall Street guy, huh? I wonder what made him pack it in.”