Wet(7)

As Katy watched Trent step through the door, taking pleasure in the sight of his perfect, firm backside, she ran through their entire encounter and wasn’t exactly sure what had happened. One second Trent seemed to hate her, the next he seemed to want her, and Katy couldn’t help but wonder if there was anything she could ever do to get him to love her again.





Desire was the first thing Trent had felt when she’d fallen into his arms.

Anger was the second.

It was the anger that had caused him to strike out at her, intending to hurt her as much as she’d hurt him. His actions were juvenile, he knew, and he was being a prick. A total fucking prick. But he couldn’t seem to help himself. The second he’d felt her body next to his, his entire being ached for her in ways that ripped a hole in his armor. But the fact that she didn’t want him the way he wanted her tore at his guts and had him acting out of character.

He’d seen the hurt in her eyes, and he hated himself for putting it there. He didn’t want to hurt Katy. It was just that when she’d left she’d taken his heart with him, and in ten long years she’d yet to bring it back.

Then she’d called him T, and every memory of their time together came crashing back. Memories of the way she felt beneath his body, the way her hands had touched him with aroused eagerness, and the way she’d called his name during lovemaking.

As the world around him tilted on its axis, it was all he could do to stop himself from bending her over the counter and taking her, hard and fast. To remind her how good they were together. How good they could still be together.

Fuck, how he wanted her. And she wanted him too.

Physically, anyway.

He felt the way her body had reacted to his touch, and the look in her eyes spoke of physical want, and goddammit, he wanted to be the guy to satiate that want. The second he caught a whiff of her sweet, honeyed scent, he ached to bury himself in her again, to kiss her mouth, her breasts, between her legs.

But the question was, would fucking her help get her out of his system once and for all, or would it shatter the last vestige of his control when she sailed out of town for another ten years?

Maybe it was time to find out.





Chapter Four


Wind whistled through the open window in Katy’s beachside rental house, and she let loose a slow, relaxing breath, thinking she’d made the right choice when she’d picked out her summer accommodations. Naturally her parents had wanted her to stay with them in their big old Victorian house, but Katy had wanted her privacy, insisting they also needed theirs.

In other words, every time she turned around she didn’t want to be bombarded with questions about work, marriage, children. Trent.

She loved her parents dearly. Working together every day was one thing, but living under the same roof with them for eight weeks was seven weeks too long.

Katy stepped up to the window and inhaled the salty sea breeze. A wave of warmth and familiarity moved through her as she hugged herself and looked out over the water. Off in the distance sail boats bobbed under the setting sun as white caps crashed against the sandy shore. Her mind drifted and she couldn’t help but smile as she thought about the times she and Trent had jumped those waves as children. By mid-teens they were body surfing, and by the time they’d approached their twenties, they were running off to find a private cove where the cool spray would wash over them as they made love. The ocean was a part of her life and she missed it. She also missed making love with Trent.

Katy gulped, her smile falling from her face as she pushed away from the window. Just thinking about making love to Trent had her body reacting with urgent need. Pushing those thoughts aside and not wanting to dwell on the way she’d salivated over him earlier that day at the Seafarer, she walked through the quaint rental with its pine wood furniture, planked floors and light, ocean blue fabrics—designed to give it a seaside cottage ambiance—and focused on the new recipes she’d like to try out down at the restaurant. As her mind raced with new ideas, she stripped off her work clothes and hopped into the shower. Once clean and refreshed, and deciding that she’d be staying in for the night, she dressed in a silk nightie. With no air conditioning in the rental, she’d need something light to sleep in.

Nighttime had fallen over the fishing village as she settled into her recliner with her notepad. As she jotted down meal ideas for the restaurant, she heard a noise outside. She stiffened and glanced around, but relaxed a little when she realized she was no longer in the big city where the crime rate was rising at an alarming rate. She was in Whispering Cove, where apparently the biggest crime was that she and Trent hadn’t married and produced a school of kids. Still though, that noise had startled her. She waited a moment longer to see if she could pinpoint the location, but after a few minutes of silence she passed it off as nothing. Probably just the dock creaking under the pounding waves. She went back to creating a menu plan, but when something smashed against the side of her cottage, she practically jumped out of her skin.