Chapter 4
Taylor closed the last inch, bringing her mouth against Charlotte’s.
The hesitation that had hung between them evaporated the instant their lips met.
A sudden tremor ran through Charlotte’s body, followed by the tight bite of fingers digging into the fabric of Taylor’s shirt.
That desperate grip anchored her. After the sting of Charlotte pulling back on the rock, this sudden surrender hit Taylor like a physical wave.
She didn’t push. She held her mouth soft against Charlotte’s, waiting, giving the older woman every chance to let her practical mind take control again. But Charlotte didn’t step back. She exhaled a shaky breath before her lips parted, yielding completely to the kiss.
A swell broke nearby, sending a spray of icy foam across the back of Taylor’s warm legs.
The cold shock collided with the sudden heat of Charlotte’s mouth opening beneath hers, firing a bright spark straight down Taylor’s spine.
She slid her hand from Charlotte’s jaw up into the dense, cool silk of her blond hair, her fingers winding through the strands to hold her steady.
Taylor deepened the kiss, her tongue tracing the soft curve of Charlotte’s lower lip before slipping past it, searching.
The first brush of their tongues set off a sharp, electric shiver.
Charlotte gasped, a small, surprised sound that vibrated straight through Taylor’s chest, into her ribs, her stomach, her bones.
Taylor tossed her flip-flops a few feet away, out of the reach of the tide.
Charlotte’s hand slid higher, fingers pressing into the back of Taylor’s neck, not just holding her close but pulling her in, as if she was the only thing keeping Charlotte from falling, from dissolving, from being swept away by the tide.
The grip was urgent, needy, and Taylor answered it by leaning in, letting Charlotte’s weight press against her, grounding them both.
Taylor tightened her grip on Charlotte’s waist, pulling the woman’s body flush against her own.
Charlotte didn’t pull back. Instead, her posture softened into the pressure of Taylor’s palm, her head tilting just enough to open her mouth wider, catching the angle with a smooth, deliberate shift that changed the whole momentum between them.
The hesitation in her vanished completely.
Her tongue slid against Taylor’s in a slow, rhythmic pull, taking control with a quiet competence that made Taylor’s thighs tremble.
The slow, practiced rhythm unraveled every defense Taylor had spent years putting together.
Her manicured fingernails dug deeper into the soft waves at the back of Taylor’s head, her grip firm, scraping lightly against Taylor’s scalp in a hold that made a low hum vibrate in Taylor’s throat.
Charlotte wasn’t just allowing the kiss; she was reaching into it, her pulse thumping wildly beneath the thin skin of her jaw where Taylor’s thumb rested.
The sharp bite of her nails sent a shudder straight down Taylor’s shoulder blades into the small of her back, making Taylor press in even harder, closing every fraction of an inch between them.
The taste of gin and ocean air on Charlotte’s tongue slid straight into Taylor’s blood, hot enough to make her stomach drop. All that sharp, analytic distance Charlotte had carried all evening vanished into the dark surge around their feet.
Another swell surged up the shore, rushing past Taylor’s calves and swirling cold salt water around their ankles while Charlotte’s mouth burned hot against her own.
Something hard bumped gently against Taylor’s ankle.
Charlotte pulled back with a quiet gasp as the tide retreated, dragging wet sand out from under their feet.
“My shoes,” Charlotte said, her voice low and raspy.
Taylor looked down. A black pump was bobbing three feet out, riding the foam like a tiny sailboat heading for open ocean. Its partner swirled upside down in a shallow pool two yards away.
Taylor laughed softly before she could stop herself. “Stay right there.”
Taylor waded into the surf, the ocean biting sharp against her thighs.
Sand slipped beneath her toes as she reached into the churn, her fingers locking over the wet leather of the heel just before the undertow dragged it away.
She swiped the second pump out of the foam on her way back, shaking the excess saltwater onto the wet shore.
When she turned around, Charlotte was standing on dry sand, purse clutched against her ribs and her blond hair tangled wildly in the wind. She looked completely flustered, her usual composure washed away by the tide.
“Rescued,” Taylor said, holding up the dripping heels.
Charlotte exhaled a long breath, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She took a step forward, her arch covered in wet gray grit. “I dropped them when you... when we...”
“I know,” Taylor said, stepping out of the frigid water. The warmth beneath her skin made the chilly breeze bearable. She gathered her own flip-flops into her left hand, looping the straps through her fingers, and held Charlotte’s black pumps by their slender heels in her right.
Charlotte let out a quiet laugh that sounded like a confession. “They’re Italian suede. Or they were.”
Taylor tested her grip on the tangled footwear. Charlotte stood holding her small handbag, looking down at her bare feet before bringing her blue-gray eyes back up to meet Taylor’s. The initial humor melted, leaving behind a warm, searching look that settled on Taylor.
Then Charlotte’s gaze drifted down the coastline toward the distant, yellow glow of the boardwalk.
Taylor recognized the shift instantly. That familiar distance was creeping back into Charlotte’s eyes, the quiet hesitation that meant she was calculating the years between them and building a reason to walk away.
“My place is two blocks up from the pier,” Taylor said, keeping her tone easy. “We could walk back there.”
Charlotte froze. Her fingers tightened on the strap of her purse, her lips parting as if preparing to deliver a carefully structured refusal.
Taylor didn’t give the doubt room to set in.
“There’s no pressure,” Taylor said, holding her gaze until the crease between Charlotte’s eyebrows smoothed out. “But I know I could spend hours kissing you, and my couch is much more comfortable.”