Page 112 of Tempt Me

“Amazing,” I say.

Dev beams. “I wanted to thank you again for the booth,” he says to Caden. “It’s perfect. And Isla, I can’t wait to try all your delectable treats! I bet they’ll be the Brie’s knees.”

I laugh as Caden rolls his eyes good naturedly. A few tourists stop at the shop and Dev offers them the samples. Caden and I pass Perks, and Pamela Kim waves at us through the large front windows as she works the espresso machine. Emily Cochran is chatting with some other girls at one table while Mrs. Greerson does the crossword at another, occasionally glowering over at Emily’s table when the girls get too noisy.

Across the street, the windows of the Crooked Screw are thrown open and I see Jake wiping down the bar as Linda May brings a bottle of wine to a couple sitting outside.

“Hey guys!” she calls to us. “Coming in for a drink?”

“Maybe later,” I call back.

For one moment, everything feels like it’s falling into place. The sun hangs like a fat lemon gumdrop in a cloudless sky. The breeze off the bay scents the air with a faint, salty tang. I’m surrounded by people I’ve known my whole life, people who are like family. Caden is beside me, warmly greeting Lyle Watson as he walks some of the rescue dogs that live at Furever Friends. Caden’s arm brushes mine as we walk past the green. More booths are being set up. Booths Caden built with his own hands. For me. For this town.

It feels like I’m in exactly the right place, in a way I haven’t felt in ages.

In five years, if I’m being precise.

I glance up at Caden and he’s looking down at me, his eyes scorching like silver-blue flames. I swallow hard, my gaze tracing the sharp angles of his jaw. His hand twitches, his fingers brushing my knuckles. Was it on purpose? My throat has suddenly gone very tight.

Before I know it, we’re standing outside the door to my apartment. A need has blossomed between my thighs, hot and pulsing. Caden looms over me, casting a long shadow against the railing. His jaw tics. The silence around us is heavy with all the things we aren’t saying to each other.

I should not want him like this. He’s leaving. I’ll only be hurt again. And isn’t there some requisite mourning period for a broken engagement? But I don’t feel in mourning. I feel free. As my eyes snag on the crook of Caden’s lips, then follow the curve of his neck down to the dent at the base of his collarbone, I feel an ache bloom in my chest, an unbridled need that I’ve been repressing for so very long.

I throw caution to the wind. I’ve survived him leaving before. And I want this. I wanthim.

Caden takes one step closer to me. His hand comes up to sweep my hair over my shoulder. His fingertips brush against the slope of my neck and something ignites inside me. I gasp, the tiniest of inhales.

“Isla,” Caden murmurs. He fills my vision. He is everything.

My hand lifts to rest against his chest, his heart pounding beneath the hard curve of muscle. I lick my lips. I want him so badly it makes my teeth ache and my skin sing.

I tilt my head up to him.

He looks at me, one eyebrow cocked. A request. An invitation.

“Please,” I whisper.

His lips brush mine, softly at first, tentative, like he’s waiting for me to stop him. His mouth is warm and soft, and when he pulls away, I ache at the loss.

“Isla,” he says again, my name like a prayer, like an offering.

I grab his shirt by the collar and pull him into me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CADEN

Our mouths crash together, hungry this time, nothing delicate about it.

I wanted her to be sure. I wanted her to know I wasn’t trying to push her.

But god, I want this. I’ve wanted this for so long.

Isla’s lips are warm and eager, and she presses herself against me in a way that makes my head spin. I let myself dissolve into her touch, her mouth moving in perfect rhythm with mine, her fingers clutching my shirt like she’s drowning and I’m a life preserver.

I feel like the one drowning, though. I sink into Isla, falling deeper in the abyss of her, her honey-bread scent, the softness of her hair where it sweeps over my arms. I pull back and allow my hands to sink into it, to gaze at the gentle lines of her face, her green eyes warm and filled with want.

It hits me that we are outside. In public. Probably not the best idea.

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