Chapter 16
The short drive back to the beach house was quiet—soft yet comfortable.
Tess sat angled toward the window, as if seeing the town from the passenger seat for the first time.
He kept sneaking glances at her before forcing himself to watch the road.
The last thing he needed to do was cause an accident or hit a pedestrian because he wasn’t paying attention.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed a meal like that.
Not just the food—though the steak at the Cranberry Inn hadn’t disappointed—but the easy way she’d smiled at him, the laughter that had caught him off guard.
Usually, his dates had an end goal—sex—and everything before that was foreplay.
However, with Tess, it was different. She made him forget the constant push-and-pull of expectations.
Conversation flowed, comfortable and genuine, leaving him lighter than he’d felt in years.
For once, he wasn’t calculating his next move or what came after dessert—he was simply in the moment, enraptured by her, and that departure from his norm shook him more than he wanted to admit.
He pulled into the loose-gravel driveway, headlights sweeping across the dunes and beachgrass at the far end.
Tess twisted in her seat to look at him, her hand brushing her necklace as if she needed the small comfort of touch to calm her nerves.
“Do you want to come up? Just for a nightcap—you know, those beers that are still in the fridge.”
Brian’s pulse kicked, and his cock stirred as he stared at her lips.
She’d offered the invitation lightly, and he chose to take it at face value—a beer on the porch, nothing more.
He didn’t want to rush her. Slow and steady seemed like the right pace for once.
If she wanted more, she’d have to say so.
“Yeah,” he said, killing the engine. “That sounds good.”
After they climbed out of his truck, he followed her around the back of the house and up the stairs. “Why don’t we sit out here? It’s a beautiful night.”
She smiled at him. “It is. I’ll just grab a sweater and the beer.”
When she slipped inside, he strolled over to the railing and shoved his hands into his pants pockets.
The night was cool and comfortable, the kind of early-summer evening he’d grown up with.
It was around sixty-five degrees with a light breeze carrying the ocean’s breath inland and adding a slight chill.
The briny coastal air was heavy with salt and seaweed.
Threaded through it was something softer—the hint of Tess’s perfume, floral with a note he couldn’t place, like honeysuckle left in the sun.
Beyond the porch, the familiar ocean stretched dark and steady, the full moon casting a silver path across the waves.
Each swell caught the light before sliding back into shadow.
The sky was clear, stars scattered thick across the night, sharp and bright against the blackness.
The only sound was the waves pounding the shoreline and fanning out across the sand before retreating again, in an endless lullaby.
The screen door squeaked a moment later, and Tess appeared, two long-neck bottles in hand.
She’d changed her sandals for cute, fuzzy slippers, and a lightweight sweater was draped over her dress.
She crossed to him with an easy grace, handed him a beer, and settled onto the porch swing.
Brian followed, lowering himself beside her.
The old chains creaked, and he mentally added oiling them to his list of things to do—any excuse to be around Tess more often.
They clinked bottles, and then she tipped hers back for a sip. He did the same, the cold beer sharp on his tongue.
“Thanks for tonight,” she said, resting her bottle on the swing’s arm. “It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed an evening that much and laughed like that.”
He smiled faintly. “You make it sound like I’m funny.”
“You are.” Her eyes danced. “Even if you don’t mean to be. I like it.”
He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I’ll take it.”
The swing rocked gently under their weight, the wood below them groaning with the rhythm.
It was serene and unexpected, yet it left him a little restless.
Every brush of her arm reminded him just how aware he was of her.
He wasn’t about to push—he’d let her set the pace—but sitting that close made it hard to ignore the pull.
He took another sip, set the bottle on a small table beside the swing, and let the silence stretch. It wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it wrapped around them, heavy with possibility.
When he looked at her again, Tess was already watching him. Her lips parted slightly, her breath hitching as though she’d been caught. The moonlight cast a soft glow across her face, and her hazel eyes reflected it, making them lean more toward amber than green.
Brian’s chest tightened. He’d promised himself he’d be careful, that he wouldn’t drag her into the mess in his head over the shooting. But sitting there, with her perfume teasing him and the ocean’s rhythm matching the pulse pounding in his veins, caution was impossible.
He leaned forward slowly and lifted a hand to brush her hair back from her face. Her breath skittered across his skin. He stopped a scant few inches from her lips, holding her gaze. “Your move, Tess. I want to kiss you, but only if—” Her mouth cut off the rest, warm and certain against his.
The kiss wasn’t rushed. Not at first. His lips pressed against hers gently, giving her every chance to pull away. But when she didn’t—when she leaned into him, her hand catching his shirt and tugging him near—the control he’d tried so hard to keep cracked wide open.
Her mouth was soft, warmer than he’d remembered, tasting faintly of hops and something sweeter that was just her.
For a beat, he kept it light and teasing, but Tess tilted her head, pressing closer.
The swing shifted under their weight, and the creak of the chains faded beneath the thrum of blood in his ears.
She broke away first, just enough that her exhale brushed across his lips. “Brian...” Her voice was husky, uncertain, as though she wasn’t sure if she should stop or ask for more.
He rested his forehead against hers, steadying them both. “Tell me if you want me to back off.”
Her fingers tightened their grip on his shirt instead of letting go. “I don’t.”
Something inside him gave way. He kissed her again, deeper this time, his hand cupping her jaw. The world narrowed to the tangle of their tongues, the way she sighed into him, and the subtle curve of her body angling more toward his.
Using his foot to stop the motion of the swing, he tugged on her hips until she straddled him, her dress lifting to the middle of her thighs.
Her legs tightened around him. Brian’s cock hardened, almost to the point of pain.
His self-control stretched to breaking, but he anchored himself in the way she clutched at his shirt, the small, desperate, needy sounds escaping her throat.
He kissed her slowly, then deep, mapping out her mouth with his tongue. Each time he tried to pull back, to give her a chance to slow down, she followed, her lips chasing his, her body pressing closer.
“Tess,” he murmured, his thumbs grazing her waist. He needed to say something to keep them from going too far, too fast, but he couldn’t find the words. His brain had gone offline.
“Stay.” The word slipped from her like a plea, whispered into the night.
His chest tightened, and for a moment he froze, his forehead touching hers, needing to be sure he understood. “You want me to—”
“Yes.” Her eyes met his, and her pupils were blown, with only a hint of hazel encircling them. Her voice was steadier when she spoke again. “I don’t want the night to end yet.”
The admission stole the breath from his lungs. He kissed her again, softer, reverent. His hands slid up her sides under the sweater, memorizing every line, every dip and swell, every shiver beneath his palms.
The rest of the world seemed to vanish—the rush of the surf, the breeze off the water, even the moon and stars overhead. There was only Tess, warm and insistent in his arms, and the dangerous knowledge that he’d follow her anywhere she asked him to go.
“I don’t want it to end either, but are you sure?”
She licked her lips, the movement drawing his attention to how plump and red they were from the kiss. “More than I’ve been in a long time, Brian. Come to bed with me, please?”
She climbed off him and stood, extending her hand toward him. He couldn’t have refused her even if he wanted to. He wanted her, ached for her—badly—but more than that, he wanted the trust she was giving him.
Brian’s hand closed around hers, her smaller fingers warm and certain. He rose from the swing and let her lead him across the porch and inside.
The house was quiet, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound as they moved past the kitchen.
Her slippered feet padded softly across the floorboards, her dress brushing her thighs with every step.
Brian followed close behind, every muscle strung tight, even though he was determined not to rush this.
He wanted to savor every moment with Tess.
Down the short hallway, she glanced back at him, her eyes luminous in the dim light.
At the closed bedroom door, she stopped for several heartbeats, her gaze on his, like she was giving him one last chance to change his mind.
But when he gave the smallest nod, her lips curved in a soft, relieved smile, and she opened the door and tugged him inside.
The warm glow of the bedside lamp revealed the room.
It still held the basics of his uncle’s doing—the sturdy oak furniture, the pale blue curtains, and the framed prints of lighthouses on the walls.
But Tess had left her mark. A discarded shirt was draped over the back of the chair, and the sandals she’d worn earlier were tucked neatly by the bed.
Personal items were strewn across the dresser, and a bulging tote bag sat on the floor beside it.
A paperback lay open on the nightstand beside a half-empty glass of water, and the faint scent of her perfume lingered in the air, softening the space until it felt less like a borrowed room and more like hers.
She let go of his hand then turned to face him, waiting, her breath uneven but her gaze steady.
As the air thickened between them, he shut the door behind him.