Barefoot by the Sea by Claire Roxanne St

Author:Claire, Roxanne St. [Claire, Roxanne St.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Contemporary Women, Humorous, Contemporary, Fiction, Romance, Erotica
ISBN: 9781455508242
Publisher: Forever
Published: 2013-10-29T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Was that a lie? Was he real enough?

Ian didn’t know and, at that very second, didn’t care. His own release was far too close at hand, forcing him to clench his jaw and hold back while Tessa melted under him like butter in a smoking saucepan.

He allowed his body one more hard press against hers, the move firing more blood to his already aching hard-on. After a second, he lifted his head to look into her eyes, glittering in the moonlight, bright with arousal.

Still clutching his arms, her breathing as strangled as his, she held his gaze. “John,” she whispered.

John. What would it be like to hear her call him Ian? Could it ever be that real?

Not unless he was insane. Wasn’t it bad enough she’d overheard him slip into his native accent when he thought he was alone?

“I can’t think straight,” he admitted. “No blood in my brain.” Slowly, he rolled off her and sat up, leaving her lying on the leaves, looking sated and sexy while his boner strained his jeans. He was lying in every way already—he wasn’t about to throw salt on the wounds he’d leave by screwing her, too. “I think we need food and wine.”

She repositioned herself, pulling down her top and brushing some hair back, trying to get composed but only managing disheveled and sexy.

“You really want me to drink from the bottle?”

He took his time getting the corkscrew, letting his arousal subside. “Yeah. I think it’d be hot.”

“Making out in the garden, drinking wine from a bottle.” She drew in a breath, then smiled as she exhaled. “And I’m giving Ashley a hard time. We’re as bad as they are.”

“Not quite.”

She sat up. “What does that mean?”

“It means I think there’s more than what we just did going on between them.”

Tessa closed her eyes. “Ugh. I don’t know what to do. Should I tell Lacey or not? I can’t stand lies. I can’t stand secrets. Absolutely nothing drives me crazier, except…I totally get what she’s going through.”

He popped out the cork with one easy pull and handed her the bottle, happy for the chance to talk about something other than lies, truth, and his slip of the accented tongue.

She eyed the bottle. “I don’t generally do things like this.”

“See? I’m good for you.” He wiggled the bottle.

“I like to do things in their proper order. You know, wine in glass and then in mouth. Kiss like crazy in the house. Or maybe fall in love then get married, not fake it for an audience.”

He swallowed hard. She’d want love, of course. What woman wouldn’t? And he was offering her nothing like that. Self-loathing roiled through him. “Drink up, pretty Tessa.”

Frowning, she reached for the bottle. “I’m not that pretty.”

“Speaking of ‘Ugh.’” He looked skyward. “I hate when pretty women say that.”

“No, honestly, it wasn’t a ploy for compliments. I don’t see myself like, you know, Zoe. Now she’s pretty.”

“Not my type. Have a sip.”

Still, she didn’t put the bottle to her lips.

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