“No. Never.”

He nodded like he understood, but he didn’t. “You and Anderson?”

Her eyes widened. She looked startled, then insulted. “Anderson gave me his twenty-percent employee discount for materials for the spa, so I bought him lunch.”

Sawyer let out the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, pulled her in again, and kissed her, his body reacting so quickly that it caught him by surprise, and he heard himself groan into her mouth.

Chloe lifted her head. “Do you remember when I said sometimes I need to feel? And that sometimes I do stupid things to get there, like pierce a nipple or hang glide or—”

He ran his gaze over her, thwarted by her damn coat. “Are you hurt? Are you—”

“No.” She fumbled with the buttons, then dropped her coat. Beneath she was utterly, gorgeously naked. And beautiful. So fucking beautiful that Sawyer lost his words and his mind. “God, look at you,” he said hoarsely.

“Welcome to my latest crazy,” she whispered, wearing nothing but those knee-high boots and an unsure smile. “Oh, and you should probably know, I’m quite possibly hypothermic.”

“Luckily I’ve been trained to handle this situation.”

Chloe smiled, and he realized she was nervous. He was nervous, too, which made no sense to him whatsoever. They’d been here before, right here. He pulled off his shirt and reached for her at the same moment she leaped at him, wrapping her legs around his hips. He had one hand on her ass, the other high on her back and in her long hair as he carried her to his bedroom. Lying her on the bed, he stepped back only to get rid of his gun and phone, then strip out of the rest of his clothes, which he did in less than five seconds. Mother of God, let nobody have an emergency tonight, he thought.

He had a moment where he stared down at her on his bed in nothing but those fuck-me boots, not wanting to take them off. But then she shivered, and he reluctantly tugged them from her feet and dropped them to the floor before shoving her beneath his thick covers and following her in. “Step one,” he said. “We conserve body heat.”

“Good plan.” She turned to him, wrapping her frozen limbs around him.

He hissed in a breath when she pressed her frozen toes into his calves, but her own breathing wasn’t anywhere close to even, and he paused. “Need your inhaler?”

She shook her head. “I need you.”

He opened his mouth, but she put a finger over his lips. “I’m done talking now.”

Yeah. So was he. But when her icy fingers walked their way down his chest and stomach, he sucked in another harsh breath and grabbed her hand, rubbing it between his to warm it up.

She laughed at him, but he knew how to shut her up. He kissed her hard and long and deep, running a hand down her quivering body, sliding it between her thighs. Ahhhh. She wasn’t cold here. She was already hot and slick and ready. “You want me.”

She smiled. “Yes. Whatever this is that we’re doing, I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

Her softly whispered words staggered him. It hadn’t been a confession of love. Hell, he knew that she didn’t do confessions of love.

So why did it feel like one?

Because he wasn’t doing so well at controlling his emotions with her, that’s why. “I want you, too,” he said, sure as hell not able to remember a time that he hadn’t.

Pulling him down, she kissed him, and he let himself sink into the kiss, into her, willingly drowning in her heat, grateful that he couldn’t talk and kiss at the same time because he was dangerously close to spilling his guts.

“Now,” she said against his lips.

“No, not yet. I want to—”

“Sawyer.”

Like he really stood a chance against the sound of his name on her lips. Cradled by her open thighs, he slid into her.

Home.

Slow, he reminded himself, searching her face for signs of distress. But he found only desire and hunger and closed his eyes as her hands ran over his chest, his arms, everywhere she could reach, swamping him with pleasure. He pulled back and thrust again, deeper now, groaning at the feel of her, but hesitated when her nails dug into his shoulders.

“No, don’t stop,” she said, soft and throaty, still showing no signs of trouble. “Please don’t stop.” Accompanying this sexy little plea, she made a restless circular motion with her hips, and he lost the tenuous grip on his control.

This morning he’d run three miles on the beach, and he’d been in good enough shape not to feel the exertion overly much. Now, here in her arms, buried in her body, his breath was coming in ragged pants. He reared up on his hands, back arched to get as deep as he could as he began to move. When she cried out this time, he recognized it was a plea for more, and he gave it.

She cupped his face, slid her fingers into his hair, and beamed up at him. God, he loved her smile. She felt so good. Her eyes were a staggering, fathomless green, and looking at her made him ache so much that he ran out of air.

Completely. Ran. Out. He struggled to breathe and thought this must be how she felt. But then she pressed her mouth to his and gave him her air. He groaned and continued to move in and out of her, harder now, faster, and then she came, her eyes filled with a faint, endearing surprise as her body clenched around him.

God, she felt so good. Just watching her sent him spiraling. It began deep inside, racing through his body so that his arms trembled, and he dropped his head with a rough groan, burying his face in the curve of her neck as he completely lost himself.

Chapter 21

“Anything worth taking seriously

is also worth making fun of.”

Chloe Traeger

The next day Chloe gave a yoga class for one. Allie never stopped talking the whole time, about the amazing burgers at Eat Me, her Cute Guy sighting at the liquor store, how there was never a line at the post office here…She loved the people and wasn’t sure she missed anyone from home.

“Not anyone?” Chloe asked.

Allie lifted a shoulder.

“It’s okay to miss him,” Chloe said quietly. “It’s okay to miss John.”

And for the first time all week, Allie clammed up.

They were still stretching on the beach when Maddie and Jax pulled up to the inn. Maddie started to get out of the Jeep, but Jax drew her back, buried his hands in her hair, and kissed her.

“He’s going to inhale her right up,” Allie noted, sounding a little wistful.

“They’re getting married. I think all almost-marrieds act like that.” Chloe winced as soon as she said it, remembering why Allie was here. “I’m sorry, I—”

“No. Don’t be sorry.” Allie sat Indian style on the mat and stared out at the water. “I can’t hide out from it forever.”

“I know you’ve been in contact with your family. Have you called John at all?”

“No.” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “I made a mistake, Chloe. A big one. Things got intense before the wedding. There was so much to do, and everyone was trying to be involved…” She shook her head. “I lost sight of what I was doing, and why. John wanted to be a part of the planning, and I told him I could handle it. A bride should be able to handle it. I pushed him away. And then when he finally took a big step back, I fell apart and pushed him farther.” She bit her lip. “And then on my wedding day, I felt alone. So alone. It was all of my own making, but I couldn’t see that.” She turned to Chloe. “So I ran. When the going got tough, I ran like a little girl.”

Chloe understood both the pushing people away and the feeling alone. And hell, if she was being honest, she understood the running too. She’d spent years perfecting all three. “It’s never too late to face a regret.” She handed Allie her cell phone. “You don’t have to tell him where you are or—”

Allie snatched the phone so fast that Chloe’s head spun. She rolled up her mat and moved toward the inn to give Allie some privacy, but before she’d gotten out of earshot she heard, “Baby? It’s me.” Allie’s breath hitched audibly. “John, I’m so sorry—in some Podunk little place called Lucky Harbor. Really? You will? You’ll come? Oh, John…”

Sawyer knocked on his father’s door but wasn’t surprised when no one answered. For three days now, it’d been the same story. Worried, Sawyer let himself in and dropped the two bags of groceries he’d brought with him on the kitchen table.

From somewhere in the house, he heard a toilet flush, and then his father shuffled into the kitchen, scowling. “Nice knock,” he grumbled at Sawyer.

“I did knock. And I called, too. You’re avoiding me.”

“I was on the pot.”

“I’ve been calling all week. Wanted to help you fix the gutters.”

“My boy did it.”

Okay, last Sawyer checked, he was Nolan’s boy. “I would have—”

“I hate carrots,” his father said, nosing through the bags. “And blueberries. Christ, this is fucking sissy food.”

“It’s good for you.” Sawyer eyed his father. White wife-beater dulled by years of washings, dark blue trousers hitched up to just beneath a beer belly. “You need to eat healthier.”

“I’ve eaten how I want for sixty years.”

“Yes,” Sawyer said. “Hence your health problems.”

“Goddammit!” His father waved a hand and knocked the bag to the floor. “My business, not yours.”

Whether he’d accidentally hit the food or not, it pissed Sawyer off. He could handle drug dealers and gangbangers without losing his cool, but five minutes with his father and his temper was lit. “Listen—”

“No, you listen,” his father snarled, spitting out his words like venom. “Where in the hell do you get off telling me how to run my life?”

“Since your doctor said you were going to die if you didn’t change!”