Want Me Always (Heron Harbor Book 1) by Lea Nolan

Author:Lea Nolan [Nolan, Lea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lea Nolan
Published: 2020-04-20T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 9

This was either Smith's most brilliant idea, or the worst one. There was only one way to find out.

He balanced the take-out box and bag in one hand, and rang Wren's doorbell with the other. Then waited.

And waited.

Shit. This was a mistake. He should've gone home after the restaurant closed. But after skipping their lunch date because of a headache, Wren's voice still sounded off this evening when he'd called to check in. He couldn't stay away, especially if there was something he could do, like bring her a gourmet meal.

But now, it looked like he'd be eating it alone in his own kitchen. Served him right for dropping by uninvited. Turning, he headed down the porch steps.

The door opened behind him. He spun to find Wren standing in the doorway, dressed in a bathrobe over pink pajamas, her hair in a messy bun. "Hey."

Even though she was smiling, she looked weary, like she'd been dragged through hell and back. But damn if she wasn't every bit as beautiful as yesterday at the beach.

Which could only mean one thing. He'd fallen even harder than he'd realized.

Then a second, crueler realization struck like lightning on a late summer night. In three short days, Wren would be gone, back to Baltimore and her work-obsessed life, too busy for visits to the beach.

Fuck. A mixture of pain and yearning knotted his gut. He needed to step up his game. Give her a reason to come back to Heron Harbor. And to him.

He nodded toward the box in his hands. "I brought dinner. Figured you didn't eat much today."

She forced a small chuckle as she stepped aside to let him in. "Depends on whether a pint of ice cream counts as food."

"It does, but I promise you'll like what I've brought better. Where can I put these?" he asked as he walked through the foyer and down the hall.

"The living room's good. I've been on the couch all day. Might as well stay there."

Smith set the box and bag down on the coffee table in front of the sofa positioned for the best view of the Atlantic. This late at night, the dark ocean was barely visible except for the frothy white caps that crashed against the shore.

A fire burned in the nearby fireplace, the log crackling under the flames. A thick, inviting blanket lay on the couch.

The urge swelled to sweep her off her feet, set her down on the soft cushion, and make love to her, allowing his body to confess the feelings he couldn't speak out loud. Not yet, at least. Not until he knew she felt the same way.

Because if he told her just how much he loved her—had always loved her—it might scare her away. But his hands and mouth could speak for him as he savored every inch of her gorgeous body. She'd feel his adoration. His awe at her brilliance. His promise to treat her as no other man had, and with the respect she deserved.

But she had a headache.

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