Page 10 of Fore Better or Worse
The finale fades, and I find myself still tucked against his side, reluctant to extricate myself from his warmth. The lighthouse beam sweeps across the water, its light cutting through the darkness beyond the harbor.
“I’ve always loved that lighthouse.” I nod toward the distant light. “Did you know it sits right off the eighteenth green of a golfcourse at the country club? Not that I know much about golf, but I’ve heard people mention it.”
Hays smiles and follows my gaze. “Have you ever played there?”
“Never.” The admission comes easily, though I’m suddenly self-conscious about it. A man whose life revolves around golf probably can’t imagine living twenty minutes from a course and never setting foot on it.
His eyebrows shoot up. “It’s one of the best courses in the country. Hell, it might host a major championship someday.”
I shrug, hyperaware of how his hand feels against my lower back. “Golf isn’t really my thing. Requires more hand-eye coordination than I possess.”
“It’s not just any course. TheHarbor Courseis legendary,” he continues. “Narrow fairways that’ll punish you if you’re off by even a few yards. Greens that run faster than anything you’ve ever seen. And rough so deep you might need a search party to find your ball.”
“You’re not exactly selling it to a beginner.”
His laugh rumbles against my side. “You’re right. It’s not the best place to learn. A beginner should start somewhere more forgiving.” He pauses, tilting his head to study my face. “But something tells me you’d rise to the challenge.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because you’re here with me instead of playing it safe with your friends. You paid for your own drinks, even when I offered. You called me on my bullshit within five minutes of meeting me.” His voice drops to that velvet tone that makes my stomach flip. “Safe isn’t really your style, is it, sweetheart?”
No, it is. Really. Tonight has been anything but safe. He’s definitely got the wrong impression. But instead of setting him right, I circle back to his question from earlier. “I’ve been told I’m not bad. At kissing, that is.” At least, that’s what David said.
Hays leans down until his face is inches from mine. Until the warmth of his breath blows against my cheek. “Only one way to confirm that.”
His thumb traces slowly along my jaw while his other hand continues those maddening circles on my back.
My tongue darts out to wet my lips, and his eyes drop to track the movement. It’s permission, invitation, surrender to whatever this moment is becoming. And when he kisses me, every rational thought in my head simply…stops.
His lips are warm and sure against mine, gentle at first, almost reverent. But the moment I respond, the moment my hand fists in his shirt and I kiss him back, something ignites between us like a match struck in the dark. He tastes like vodka and mint and it makes my head spin.
One of his hands slides up to cup my jaw, his thumb stroking across my cheekbone, while the other palm presses against the small of my back, drawing me closer until there’s no space between us. When his tongue traces the seam of my lips, seeking entrance, I open for him without hesitation.
The kiss deepens, becoming something hungry and all-consuming. He backs me against the railing, his body sheltering me. My hand releases his shirt to tangle in his hair, and when I scrape my nails lightly against his scalp, he moans, sending heat ricocheting through my entire body.
I forget we’re on a boat surrounded by hundreds of people. I forget about my carefully planned life and my recent heartbreak and all the logical reasons this is a terrible idea. All I can think about is the way his mouth moves against mine. The way his hand spans the width of my back, anchoring me to him. The way he kisses as if he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment. Waiting his whole life for me.
My knees go weak. I’m grateful for the railing and his solid presence holding me firm, because otherwise I might just melt.I’ve been kissed before, but never like this. Never with this kind of intensity that makes every nerve ending in my body come alive.
When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathing hard, our foreheads pressed together in the intimate space he’s created around us. The sounds of the boat, the laughter, the gentle slap of waves, rush back as if I’m surfacing from underwater.
“The last way on earth I’d describe that kiss was ‘not bad,’” he murmurs against my lips, his voice catching in a way that makes my stomach flip.
Chapter seven
Leah
My lips still tingle, my fingers somehow twisting in the fabric of Hays’s shirt again, and I’m fairly certain my brain has short-circuited. Rational thought feels impossible. As if it might be challenging for the foreseeable future.
In sixty seconds, this man managed to make every kiss I’ve ever had feel like a gray-scale imitation of what a kiss should be. What I called passion with David suddenly seems as if we were playing in the kiddie pool, while this feels like diving headfirst into the deep end.
“Come back to my hotel with me,” Hays murmurs against my ear, his voice low.
I’m sorely tempted to say yes, blissfully aware of the pleasure that awaits if I were to follow this gorgeous, impulsive man back to the five-star hotel where he’s undoubtedly staying.
For just a second, I imagine being the kind of woman who grabs opportunity with both hands and replies with an emphatic yes instead of being one who analyzes every situation to death. But reality crashes back like a cold wave.
“I can’t,” I whisper, releasing his shirt and smoothing the wrinkles. “I mean, I want to, really, it’s just…it would be a mistake.”
