trembling too made him feel better—he wasn’t in this alone, overwhelmed and overloaded. Penny was right there with him, pushing hard into his arms and snuggling her face into the bend of his neck, where she fit perfectly.
There was an astonishing innocence to Penny, despite what she’d been through. She made Dylan remember what it was like to be young and eager, too inexperienced to realize that every woman who hopped into bed with him had visions of dollar signs and diamonds dancing in her head.
“You make me feel like I’m not any older than Matt,” Dylan growled, nipping sharp little kisses along the line of her jaw. “Desperate for it, and having a tough time believing I’m about to get it … oh no. Matt.”
“Don’t worry about him. He’s a teenager—he could sleep through a volcanic eruption.” Penny tilted her chin back, baring her throat in a clear request for more biting, sucking kisses. Dylan was happy to oblige.
“I’ll show you a volcanic eruption,” Dylan muttered, just to make her laugh. The sight of her, head thrown back and smiling mouth open on a sigh, fed some hunger deep inside just as surely as the greedy clutch of her thighs around his hips fed his physical desire.
But even in the midst of the most passionate, intimate lovemaking Dylan had ever known, even as both of them clung to the present moment and immersed themselves in it and in each other, Dylan felt the future barreling down on him.
Penny had opened herself to him completely. He couldn’t keep lying to her.
She’d made him believe he could be a better man. The kind of man who would tell her the truth … and once he did, Dylan knew he would lose her.
No second chances.
Chapter Nine
Penny blinked her eyes open with a start of disoriented wonder. Watery morning light filtered through the lace curtains, and she should be shivering under the thin cotton sheet, but instead it was approximately four million degrees in her bed.
A slow, luxurious stretch revealed the culprit behind the humid heat, and the twinge in certain seldom-used muscles.
Dylan Workman. The tall, muscled handyman who had—wow, really lived up to the hype about being good with his hands.
One of those broad-palmed, blunt-fingered hands was still cupped around her hip, as if he hadn’t wanted to let go even in sleep, and Penny closed her eyes to enjoy the way her heart fluttered.
With a sharp intake of breath, Dylan stirred awake beside her. “Time’s it?”
Penny glanced at the antique silver alarm clock next to the bed. “Nine fifteen. We should get up, Matt will be awake soon. And I need to get ready for the lunch shift at the Firefly.”
Dylan shifted, but only to sling a leg over Penny’s bare calves and trap her more thoroughly on the mattress. “Not yet. Plenty of time.”
Humming with pleasure, Penny relished the sticky slide of their naked skin, the crispness of Dylan’s chest hair and the combined scents of their clean sweat and satisfying lovemaking. “We don’t have plenty of time. But I’m not ready to get up yet, either.”
A sweet, comfortable silence descended over the room, broken only by the dip and sway of the trees in the light breeze and the bright chirping of birds. Here in the heart of downtown Sanctuary, they were at least half a mile from the beach, but if Penny closed her eyes she pretended she could almost make out the sound of the waves lapping at the shore.
“This island,” Dylan said, hushed and almost reverent. “It’s not like any place I’ve ever been—and I’ve been all over the world.”
Penny frowned a little. How did a handyman have money for international travel? But he’d probably backpacked across Europe or ridden that motorcycle of his across Asia or something. “Sanctuary Island is special,” she agreed. “I’ve loved it ever since we moved here. I knew right away that it was the place to make our new start.”
“The rest of the world isn’t like this.” He sounded almost
Cathy Perkins
Bernard O'Mahoney
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PAMELA DEAN
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D. P. Lyle
Don Keith
Lili Valente
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