Page 28 of Haunted Hearts
He stares out at the water for a minute, as if weighing his response. “Remember how you said you stick around the library because you’re hoping to, like, feel your mom?”
I nod.
“It’s like that.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Have you felt her?”
Will turns to look at me. I see him swallow, the muscles in his throat working. “No.”
He holds my gaze for a minute, and then breaks eye contact, looking down at the fire. He grabs a stick and pokes it into the embers. The fire crackles, flames biting anew at the branches. Then he settles himself back on the sand, stretches his entire, muscled body out so he’s lying completely flat beneath the purple sky. I see his chest heaving as he breathes in and out.
“Come down here,” he says.
I hesitate. I’m already unsure about whatever this is between us, and lying down next to him in the sand feels a little like—ahem—sleeping with the enemy.
But he looks so peaceful stretched out below me. Just… utterly calm. And I want that, too. Looking at the way his broad chest rises and falls is already making me feel things, but I can keep a handle on myself—right? I’m a grown ass woman.
I lie down beside him. The sand is soft beneath me as I stare up at the darkening sky, fully aware of how warm Will’s solid form is next to me. I have the sudden urge to roll over into him, tuck myself into his warmth, find his hand in the darkness—but obviously I push it down. I’ve been here before. I know how this goes. And it doesn’t end with a man sticking around. My dad didn’t stick around, and Dylan didn’t stick around. Hell,peopledon’t stick around.
“Told you this’d be nice,” Will says.
I steal a glance at him. His eyes are closed, and there’s a small half smile on his lips.
“You were right. I can see why you come out here.”
“Mmm.”
We’re quiet again. The only sound is the crackling of the bonfire, the rhythmic lapping of the waves on the shoreline.
I push myself up to my elbows and look down at Will. His eyes are still closed.
“Thank you, by the way. For redrawing the plans around the banister. I’m not sure I told you properly this afternoon.”
His eyes blink open. I think he’s about to say something, but before I’m even fully aware of what I’m doing, I’m brushing my lips to his stubbled cheek, and a split second later his mouth is on mine and his huge hands are around my waist, pulling me on top of him.
Will runs his hands up my ribcage, slides them up my breasts and to my shoulders, and then plants them on either side of my face. His touch is firm, assertive, as he pulls my mouth toward him. He kisses me ravenously, every bit as hungry as he was that day in the mystery section. His hands tangle through my wind-swept hair.
“Fuck,” he groans into my mouth.
I pull back, still straddling him. We’re both fully clothed, but having his muscled body between my legs is doing things to me. If I were to slide myself down even just a bit…
I don’t have to finish the thought because Will does it for me. He picks me up and sets my ass down right on his package, which I can tell even through his jeans is rock hard. I lock eyes with him, rocking my hips back and forth over the solid mass of his erection. He closes his eyes, his hands still on my waist, rocking himself in rhythm with me.
He moves his hands beneath my shirt, his fingers skimming my stomach as they slide upward again. He keeps his gaze on me the entire time, like he’s making sure it’s what I want, and he draws in a sharp breath when his hands finally reach their destination inside my bra. My nipples are hard beneath his palms.
My voice is low, almost a whisper. “Will.”
“Yeah?”
He closes his eyes. He’s rolling my nipple between his index finger and thumb, and the sensation is making it hard for me to think. But I want to get this out. Because I can already sense thatwhatever line we’re about to cross here is one we won’t be able to inch back over.
“This isn’t very professional.”
It’s not how I intended it to come out, and know I sound like some kind of prudish schoolmarm, but Will chuckles low and soft and I feel his chest rumble beneath me. He pushes himself up to the heels of his hands and makes eye contact, the flickering flames of the bonfire next to us reflecting in his pupils.
