Jill Shalvis - Head Over Heels

So why did it feel like one?

Because he wasn’t doing so well at controlling his emotions with her, that’s why. “I want you, too,” he said, sure as hell not able to remember a time that he hadn’t.

Pulling him down, she kissed him, and he let himself sink into the kiss, into her, willingly drowning in her heat, grateful that he couldn’t talk and kiss at the same time because he was dangerously close to spilling his guts.

“Now,” she said against his lips.

“No, not yet. I want to-”

“Sawyer.”

Like he really stood a chance against the sound of his name on her lips. Cradled by her open thighs, he slid into her.

Home.

Slow, he reminded himself, searching her face for signs of distress. But he found only desire and hunger and closed his eyes as her hands ran over his chest, his arms, everywhere she could reach, swamping him with pleasure. He pulled back and thrust again, deeper now, groaning at the feel of her, but hesitated when her nails dug into his shoulders.

“No, don’t stop,” she said, soft and throaty, still showing no signs of trouble. “Please don’t stop.” Accompanying this sexy little plea, she made a restless circular motion with her hips, and he lost the tenuous grip on his control.

This morning he’d run three miles on the beach, and he’d been in good enough shape not to feel the exertion overly much. Now, here in her arms, buried in her body, his breath was coming in ragged pants. He reared up on his hands, back arched to get as deep as he could as he began to move. When she cried out this time, he recognized it was a plea for more, and he gave it.

She cupped his face, slid her fingers into his hair, and beamed up at him. God, he loved her smile. She felt so good. Her eyes were a staggering, fathomless green, and looking at her made him ache so much that he ran out of air.

Completely. Ran. Out. He struggled to breathe and thought this must be how she felt. But then she pressed her mouth to his and gave him her air. He groaned and continued to move in and out of her, harder now, faster, and then she came, her eyes filled with a faint, endearing surprise as her body clenched around him.

God, she felt so good. Just watching her sent him spiraling. It began deep inside, racing through his body so that his arms trembled, and he dropped his head with a rough groan, burying his face in the curve of her neck as he completely lost himself.

The next day Chloe gave a yoga class for one. Allie never stopped talking the whole time, about the amazing burgers at Eat Me, her Cute Guy sighting at the liquor store, how there was never a line at the post office here…She loved the people and wasn’t sure she missed anyone from home.

“Not anyone?” Chloe asked.

Allie lifted a shoulder.

“It’s okay to miss him,” Chloe said quietly. “It’s okay to miss John.”

And for the first time all week, Allie clammed up.

They were still stretching on the beach when Maddie and Jax pulled up to the inn. Maddie started to get out of the Jeep, but Jax drew her back, buried his hands in her hair, and kissed her.

“He’s going to inhale her right up,” Allie noted, sounding a little wistful.

“They’re getting married. I think all almost-marrieds act like that.” Chloe winced as soon as she said it, remembering why Allie was here. “I’m sorry, I-”

“No. Don’t be sorry.” Allie sat Indian style on the mat and stared out at the water. “I can’t hide out from it forever.”

“I know you’ve been in contact with your family. Have you called John at all?”

“No.” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “I made a mistake, Chloe. A big one. Things got intense before the wedding. There was so much to do, and everyone was trying to be involved…” She shook her head. “I lost sight of what I was doing, and why. John wanted to be a part of the planning, and I told him I could handle it. A bride should be able to handle it. I pushed him away. And then when he finally took a big step back, I fell apart and pushed him farther.” She bit her lip. “And then on my wedding day, I felt alone. So alone. It was all of my own making, but I couldn’t see that.” She turned to Chloe. “So I ran. When the going got tough, I ran like a little girl.”

Chloe understood both the pushing people away and the feeling alone. And hell, if she was being honest, she understood the running too. She’d spent years perfecting all three. “It’s never too late to face a regret.” She handed Allie her cell phone. “You don’t have to tell him where you are or-”

Allie snatched the phone so fast that Chloe’s head spun. She rolled up her mat and moved toward the inn to give Allie some privacy, but before she’d gotten out of earshot she heard, “Baby? It’s me.” Allie’s breath hitched audibly. “John, I’m so sorry-in some Podunk little place called Lucky Harbor. Really? You will? You’ll come? Oh, John…”

Sawyer knocked on his father’s door but wasn’t surprised when no one answered. For three days now, it’d been the same story. Worried, Sawyer let himself in and dropped the two bags of groceries he’d brought with him on the kitchen table.

From somewhere in the house, he heard a toilet flush, and then his father shuffled into the kitchen, scowling. “Nice knock,” he grumbled at Sawyer.

“I did knock. And I called, too. You’re avoiding me.”

“I was on the pot.”

“I’ve been calling all week. Wanted to help you fix the gutters.”

“My boy did it.”

Okay, last Sawyer checked, he was Nolan’s boy. “I would have-”

“I hate carrots,” his father said, nosing through the bags. “And blueberries. Christ, this is fucking sissy food.”

“It’s good for you.” Sawyer eyed his father. White wife-beater dulled by years of washings, dark blue trousers hitched up to just beneath a beer belly. “You need to eat healthier.”

“I’ve eaten how I want for sixty years.”

“Yes,” Sawyer said. “Hence your health problems.”

“Goddammit!” His father waved a hand and knocked the bag to the floor. “My business, not yours.”

Whether he’d accidentally hit the food or not, it pissed Sawyer off. He could handle drug dealers and gangbangers without losing his cool, but five minutes with his father and his temper was lit. “Listen-”

“No, you listen,” his father snarled, spitting out his words like venom. “Where in the hell do you get off telling me how to run my life?”

“Since your doctor said you were going to die if you didn’t change!”

“Well, fuck the doctor!” Nolan bellowed. “He’s a twelve-year-old, skinny-ass punk kid.”

“Dr. Scott is my age,” Sawyer said, keeping his voice quiet and controlled with great effort. “Josh and I went to school together.” In fact, the two of them had spent many, many Saturdays in detention together, driving the high school teachers insane.

“You mean you were good-for-nothing thugs together,” Nolan snapped.

“Whatever he was, Josh is a doctor now. And a good one,” Sawyer said. “Jesus, Dad! You can’t hold his past against him.” But then he let out a short, mirthless laugh. “What am I saying? Of course you can hold his past against him. You do mine.”

Nolan jabbed a meaty finger to the door. “Get out.”

“Gladly.” Sawyer strode to the door. “Tell your perfect little gofer boy that the porch light’s out.”

Exhausted as she was, Chloe did the happy dance around the sunroom. No, she corrected. Not the sunroom-the Lucky Harbor Day Spa.

Well, it was almost a spa anyway. It was at least finished enough to have provided a short menu of services for the family of sisters, who as of two hours ago had checked out after a long weekend stay.

The week before, Jax had thrown together a changing room, hooked up the plumbing, and painted the last of the trim an hour before the two massage chairs for pedicures had been delivered, along with the shipment of towels and robes. Chloe already had a portable massage table, so that hadn’t been an issue.

Granted, there was still more to do to make it a full-service spa, but she had made it work for now.

Grinning, she spun in a circle and collapsed onto a cushy chair. The important thing was that the weekend had been a huge success. And fun. It’d been a sister-team effort, with Tara making No-Guilt-Here foods and Maddie introducing “chick night” events complete with knitting sessions and tissues-required classic movies. Chloe had given facials, mud skin treatments, and massages, along with yoga classes.

Every single one of the guests had not only rebooked for other treatments but had bought gift certificates for friends and family.

Chloe was extremely aware of how much she’d enjoyed the weekend, and exactly what she was giving up to have, hopefully, many more. She knew offers like the one she’d had from the San Diego spa didn’t grow on trees, but she felt committed to Lucky Harbor, to being here. To her sisters as well.

Her heart wanted to add Sawyer to that list, but her brain reminded her that Sawyer was fun and heat and magic-but that he’d not exactly shown any signs of wanting more.

Neither have you…

She leaned back in the chair and sighed. It was nine o’clock at night, and for the first time in days, she was all alone. Blissful, she put up her tired feet and closed her eyes.

“Aw, look at her, all plum tuckered out. I guess taking people’s money is hard work.”

At Tara’s soft, teasing Southern drawl, Chloe opened her eyes and found her sisters standing in the doorway. “Hey. I thought you’d both left.”

“Not yet, sugar.” Tara was carrying a bottle of wine in one hand, three glasses in her other. She set them down on the low-lying counter that Chloe had just cleaned, then plopped onto the spa chair and stretched out her long legs. As always, she was in heels. She kicked them off and wriggled her toes. “Lord Almighty, I should have done that about four hours ago.” Thoughtfully, she studied the rack of nail colors.