Somewhere into the second chapter, Summer returned with a dark wooden serving tray. His gaze lingered over her toes before roving up her exposed leg as he set the tray on the ottoman beside her feet. Peering over the pages, she fixated on the way his shirt pulled snug over the natural flex of his muscle. She felt a low pang knock at the vacancy between her thighs making her toes curl.

“I figured you’d be hungry.” The appetite burning in his eyes had nothing to do with the food.

Edging forward in her seat, Carrie Ann caught a whiff of coffee and some sort of soup. Two deep red bowls were topped with diced avocados, tortilla strips, and a wedge of lime. Unable to mask her surprise, she questioned, “This smells delicious. Since when did you learn to cook?”

“As much as I’d love to impress you right now I have to admit I still don’t cook.” He smiled. “I have a personal chef. He prepared all kinds of meals, so I can stock the freezer. This is one of my favorites. Grilled chicken tortilla soup with Tequila crema.”

Summer squeezed the fresh lime over his bowl, grabbed a large spoon and lowered into the love seat beside her chair. Sharing the ottoman, he plopped his feet beside hers and went to work on his soup. Carrie Ann followed his lead. Ladling a spoonful, she blew on the broth, testing its heat with a careful sip. Sounds of appreciation hummed from her throat, devouring the spicy goodness.

Summer gingerly caught her big toe between two of his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“We kissed,” he announced casually.

“What?” she sputtered, choking on a chip.

“I said, we kissed. Technically it might’ve been considered mauling. You were pretty rough. Left a mark.” The tip of his tongue flicked a spot on his bottom lip. Summer’s eyes bore into hers for a full five seconds before returning them to his soup.

She could feel the blood leaching to her face. Carrie Ann opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The longer she stalled, the more obnoxious his grin grew. Her nerves unraveled in laborious huffs bordering on grunts.

“I don’t remember,” she groaned defensively.

“I do.” Placing his empty bowl on the tray, he raised to his feet. “You cried too.”

“I cried?”

“Umm hmm.”

Alarm bells sounded off, riddling her brain with warning. But before reason had a chance to sink in, she blurted, “Why was I crying?”

Her eyes widened watching a full blown cocky mother fucking Summer smile grow to the size of ginormous. He’d set the trap and she stepped right smack into the middle of it.

Leaning forward, he rested his palms on either arm of her chair. Muscles in his arms thickened and played, holding his weight above her. “You were very upset with me because I refused to let you give me a blow job. If you want the verbatim…you were a bit dejected when I wouldn’t let you ‘suck my cock’.”

Denial tweaked every tiny muscle in her face, screwing it tight. She never used that word. Every time she tried, it brought on an onslaught of giggles. Talking dirty had always been impossible for her, preferring to use the terms I want to taste you or going down.

Attempting to will it true, she mustered an insistent tone. “I. Did. Not.”

Determination rolled off him in waves. He’d been far too patient waiting this long to get whatever happened that night off his chest. There was no place to hide. She sat tall and squared her shoulders. His amber eyes turned hazy as they drifted to her lips.

“I actually felt sorry for myself. You have no idea how hard it was for me.” His voice faded to an achy rasp. Summer’s eyes rolled back. “Telling you no, physically fucking pained me. My heart hurts. My dick’s ready to explode. We kissed and held each other. You said things to me that I’ve dreamt of hearing for ten long years. And then Christ, Carrie Ann, when I realized you’d probably been drugged there was no way I could let it go any further. You cried, I mean really cried, when I told you no. You were so mad and upset…and then…”

The pounding of her heart hammered in her eardrums. She squirmed, molding further into the cushion, bracing for the worst. Summer eased closer, two feet from her face. The vein in his neck, quickening with his pulse. Part of her wanted to sweep the whole incident under a big, gigantic rug. Unfortunately, part of her was dying to know what happened. And worse yet, a sensation of regret gathered in her chest, frustrated by the fact they’d kissed and she’d missed out on it. The man was a seriously good kisser. Face holding, hair gripper, all-consuming, cage rattling, heart soaring to the sky, kind of kisser. No, no, no! She considered bitch-slapping herself to knock the reality back into her senses.

Her sanity began to tip, urgently needing to know how much she confessed.

“What else?” she questioned in a small defensive tone.

“Red…” he stammered, slowly shaking his head. “I couldn’t stop you. We’d both gotten worked up. I was trying to fly, but you undressed…you started touching yourself.”

Carrie Ann needed to look anywhere but his eyes. Sinking lower into mortification, her eyes coasted down his body, inadvertently taking him in. Heavily aroused, his thick bulging column pulling at the top of his waistband. Her brows lifted, sub-consciously angling her chin, attempting a quick glimpse inside. A defined tan line dusted with dark hair fired off a round of contractions in her lower abdomen. It took all of her control to keep her hips from pulsing with the rhythm. Shamefully, she panted as a fine layer of perspiration gathered beneath her clothing.

“There was no stopping you. I figured it was better for you to touch yourself than me. No matter how much I wanted you…want you…it wouldn’t have been right. At one point you were so pissed because I refused to participate you punched my arm.”

“I hit you?” she cringed.

“Yeah, you whacked the hell out of me because I wouldn’t pull over. Then you turned all sweet asking me to make love to you, touch you, taste you.”

His hand slipped over hers. A low groan crooned from his throat, clasping two of her fingers in his.

Oh. My. God. I seriously fed him my pussy.

Embarrassment coursed through her in a deep tremor. Straightening his spine, he shook his head fiercely, ridding the vision from his eyes.

Summer motioned to his hard-on nearly protruding out the top of his pants “Look at me! My dick’s so hard it won’t go down.”

“Sorry.” She had no idea why she apologized, but she did.

“Trust me. You’re not the least bit sorry. You’re just in complete denial.”

“The last thing I’m in is denial. Just because I was drugged and…”

“Don’t. Don’t do it, Red. I really don’t know how much more I can take. First you’re all over me, then you’re telling me….things, then you’re furious with me. The last thing I need right now is to feel anything else…unless it involves you in my arms.”

A spike of heat caught her low in the gut. She didn’t know what things she’d said in the heat of the moment, but Carrie Ann knew one thing for certain. She didn’t want to hurt him. No matter what happened years ago, she carried a deep affection for the man standing in front of her. A rush of emotions spurred fire to the center of her chest. Her hands and arms felt encumbered, shackled to the chair by fear. Part of her yearned to reach for his hand, the other part terrified to touch him.

“That’s not going to happen, Summer,” she said unsteadily.

Pushing aside the tray, he kneeled before her half sitting on the edge of the ottoman. Staring out the window, shadows of light played against his profile. His strained silence filled her with electrifying awareness of the severity of the situation. He glanced down at her bare legs, pausing before closing his hands over her knees. Carrie Ann startled at the spark of warmth prickling her flesh. Her body tensed and trembled, fists curled into tight balls, feeling the pad of his thumbs turn lazy, telling circles near her inner thigh.