Coming Home by Leslie Kelly Page A

punish her. To demand answers and apologies and explanations for why the hell she’d made him fall in love with her if she only meant to break his heart by hiding from him for a goddamn decade?
    But he couldn't sustain the emotion. Just as his body had instantly remembered what it was like to hold her earlier when he'd kissed her on the beach, once again he was betrayed by his own feelings. The pleasure he felt from her slim form pressed against him overwhelmed him and he gentled his kiss.
    She moaned against his mouth and slid her arms up around his neck. She’d still been wearing the beach towel, and it fell to the floor, so her warm skin came into solid connection with his.
    It was she who parted her lips, asking for a deeper kiss. He gave her what she wanted. What they both wanted. Their tongues came together in a slow, gentle mating as their bodies began to sway, arching toward one another in a primal, instinctive dance. He dropped his hands to her hips, holding her tighter against him, knowing she had to feel his rock-hard erection, also knowing she had to be hot and wet for him beneath that sexy bikini.
    The feel of her soft breasts pressed against his chest soon had him panting. He was completely unable to resist letting one hand glide up her side, until he could brush his thumb against the soft curve, which was barely concealed by the tiny bikini top.
    Nicole hissed against his mouth, but didn’t pull away. Instead, she arched even closer, as if wanting a more intimate touch.
    Wyatt couldn’t refuse that kind of invitation. Not even thinking about it, he tugged at the pink material, scraping his fingertips over her puckered skin. He heard her groan as he scraped a finger over one taut tip. She gasped when he gently squeezed it.
    He wasn’t thinking, was driven only by sensation and instinct. Dragging his mouth from hers, he pressed hot kisses down her throat, needing to taste her. One of her straps gave way with an easy yank, and her top fell away, revealing the lush breast cupped in his hand. He swallowed hard, looking at her, noting how much more curvy she was—no longer the girl, now all lush woman.
    “Wyatt,” she groaned, tangling her hands in his hair.
    Unable to resist that plea in her voice, he kissed his way down her breast, until he reached the beautiful pink nipple—puckered and demanding—and covered it with his lips, kissing lightly. She whimpered, moaned, and he gave her what he knew she wanted, taking the sensitive bud into his mouth and sucking deeply. She tasted salty and sandy and sweaty…and so good he nearly forgot the world was spinning beneath his feet.
    “Oh, yes,” she groaned, her hips jerking against his, as if she felt the pull of his mouth much lower in her body.
    God was he dying to give her that. To taste her. Devour her. Feel her explode in pleasure against his mouth.
    But suddenly, a loud clang of pots and pans emerged from the kitchen. They weren’t alone in the house. Maria was a few rooms away and could return at any moment.
    Wyatt regained some sense of where he was and who the hell he was holding. He pulled away from Nicole, even as his body screamed at him to find the nearest bed and drag her down onto it. But he somehow found the strength of will to take a full step backward.
    “Wyatt…”
    “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, swiping his hand through his hair, watching as she quickly retrieved the towel and wrapped it around herself again. Her face was flushed, her lips red, her hair a mess. And she looked better to him than any other woman on the planet.
    “I should go.”
    “Yes,” she murmured.
    He turned to the door. But before he left, he looked back over his shoulder, seeing the indecision, the confusion washing over her features.
    “One thing’s for sure, Nicole. I think we’ve just proved that coldness is a word that could never describe us,” he said.
    Then, not giving her a chance to say a word, he spun around, returned to his truck, and drove away