Christmas in Good Hope (A Good Hope Novel Book 1) (13 page)

“What made you finally stop?”

There were any number of things she could tell him, but Ami wanted to be straight with Beck. Of course, that didn’t mean confessing all. “I was in an accident. My friend, a passenger in the car I was driving, was badly injured. Blasted Bambi.”

Beck paused in the act of refilling her wineglass. “What did you say?”

“A deer. It was in the road. I swerved to avoid it, lost control, and hit a tree.” Ami was able to keep her tone even but couldn’t stop her hands from trembling. She placed her wineglass on the table next to the loveseat, sensing Beck’s sympathetic gaze. “It was an old car, no air bags. I was wearing my seat belt but Lindsay was not. She hit the windshield.”

Ami wasn’t sure when it happened but Beck’s arms were now around her. He pulled her close and held her, resting his head against hers.

“Lindsay Lohmeier?” he asked after a long moment.

Ami nodded. “She had facial lacerations, a closed-head injury, and a badly broken leg. The doctors worried she might have permanent mental impairment. Thankfully, she made a full recovery. If not for the scar on her face, you’d never know she’d been so seriously injured.”

“Is that why you don’t drive?” The rich baritone soothed as it probed.

“I’ve tried numerous times,” she admitted. “I get panic attacks.”

She waited for him to tell her that she needed to be strong and soldier through her anxiety. Instead he continued to hold her. The closeness of his body and the warmth of his acceptance comforted her.

“Since this seems to be confession time.” She toyed with the buttons on his shirtfront. “I must confess that I know your secret.”

His brown eyes turned razor sharp. The intensity of that gaze left no doubt he’d been a force to be reckoned with in the courtroom. But Ami was equally strong and ready to be direct.

“You didn’t bring me here to talk. Or to drink wine.”

Beck blinked, nonplussed. “I didn’t?”

“No.” She trailed a finger up the front of his shirt. “You have nefarious motives.”

A smile cracked that stern expression. “Think so?”

“Absolutely. You bring me up to your bedroom—”

“Sitting room.”

Ami glanced pointedly behind them at the bed. “You ply me with alcohol.”

“Wine. And you haven’t finished one glass.”

“You made it clear you want to see my tattoo.”

He finally caught on and his smile widened.

“Bedroom. Wine. Tattoo search. If that doesn’t qualify as nefarious, I don’t know what does.” She gave Beck a self-satisfied smile. “I rest my case.”

He chuckled. “For the sake of argument, let’s say you’re right.”

Ami felt a stir of excitement. “Am I?”

“About some, but not all.”

“Clarify, please.”

“I brought you to the
sitting
room,” he overemphasized the word, “and offered you wine because I thought it’d be nice, not because I wanted to get you drunk and take advantage of you.”

“Disappointing, but continue.”

A quicksilver smile flashed. “You are right, however, about one thing.”

She leaned closer, which was next to impossible, considering she was practically in his lap now. “What is that?”

“I want you to show me that tattoo.”

C
hapter
T
hirteen

Beck kissed Ami under her jaw. “So, tell me, my little sugar nymph, will you stay and play?”

Anticipation fluttered through her as Ami gazed at his handsome eyes, so warm and sparkling with just a hint of mischief. After the tiniest hesitation, she smiled.

“I’d like to stay and play . . .” Ami spoke in a light tone, then sobered. “But one question first, do you have protection?”

His expression turned equally serious. “Yes.”

She took a breath, let it out. “Well, then . . .”

With his gaze firmly locked on hers, Beck rose to his feet and extended his hand. When they reached the bed, he kicked off his shoes and hopped fully clothed on top of the navy duvet. He sat up, propping the pillows behind his back, then stared expectantly at her.

Intrigued and curious, Ami sat on the edge of the bed.

“Come closer, please.”

She met his gaze and their eye contact turned into something more, a tangible connection between the two of them. A smoldering heat flared through Ami, a sensation she didn’t bother to fight.

“What do I get if I do?” Her sultry whisper appeared to surprise him as much as her.

He grinned. “Me.”

“In that case . . .” With a chuckle, Ami hiked up her dress and scooted over to him.

His arm slid around her shoulders and he pulled her close. With a contented sigh, Ami rested her head against him. Her head fit perfectly just under his chin. Having him so close was a dream come true.

She loved the way he smelled, a woodsy mixture of cologne and soap and maleness that brought a tingle to her lips and heat percolating low in her belly.

“This has been a good evening.” His voice was a gruff rasp.

“You sound surprised.”

As he stroked her arm and played with her hair, it struck her that he was getting her used to his touch.

“I went to the party at the Rakes Farm out of a sense of duty.” His brown eyes resembled pools of rich chocolate in the soft light. “Jeremy is a good guy.”

“I like him, too.” Ami sighed with pleasure as Beck nuzzled her neck. “A lot.”

When he lifted his head, she grinned. “Not in that way. He and my sister, Fin, were inseparable back in high school. If such a thing as a golden couple existed at Good Hope High, it was Delphinium Bloom and Jeremy Rakes.”

Beck appeared to absorb the words as he took her earlobe between his teeth and nibbled.

Shivers rippled across her skin. “Jeremy, he . . . he was so supportive and good to Fin when our mom got sick.”

“You really want to talk about Jeremy?” Beck asked as he licked the sensitive skin behind her ear.

“I thought you did.” She gasped the words as Beck’s fingers slipped inside the neckline of her dress. Ami arched her head back to give him better access.

He chuckled, a low, pleasant, rumbling sound. “What happened between him and your sister?”

Ami’s breath caught, then began again. Beck’s fingers reached the edge of the lacy bra. What had he asked? Oh, yes, about Fin and Jeremy. “She—she broke up with him before they left for college. They wanted different things out of life.”

It took Ami a heartbeat to realize that while she’d been dishing on her sister’s dating history, Beck had used his free hand to unzip the back of her dress and was now pushing the garment down.

Though the air in the room had been cool only minutes earlier, Ami’s skin now burned as if on fire.

His hands spanned her waist. Beck ran his palms up along her sides, skimming the curves of her breasts before the edges of his fingers brushed the tips through the lacy fabric.

“Enough about them.” Beck’s voice sounded low and strained. “Let’s talk about you.”

It took Ami several erratic heartbeats to find her voice. “Me-e?”

Then he unfastened the hook on her bra and her breasts spilled out into his waiting hands, and rational thought became impossible.

She felt a shivery kind of ache all over.

“Oh, Ami.” Wonder filled his voice. “Your body is exquisite. The color of your nipples reminds me of a . . . fully ripe peach.”

He cupped the soft curves in his hands, his thumbs brushing across the tight points of her nipples.

The stroking fingers sent shock waves of feeling through her body.

“I can’t help wanting a taste.”

Ami arched back and closed her eyes. Her need was a stark, carnal hunger she hadn’t known she was capable of feeling. “Yes, please.”

Beck gave a strained chuckle. “Always so polite.”

He lowered his head and his mouth replaced his fingers. His tongue circled each tip before bringing one nipple into his mouth.

Ami surged against the pleasure swelling like a tide inside her. Her body ached with desire so intense she thought she might burst into flames. When he finally lifted his head, Ami grasped his face in her hands and gave him a ferocious kiss. He tasted like wine, and she wanted to drink him in until she was drunk.

As the kisses and touches continued, Ami wasn’t conscious of exactly when they’d shed the rest of their clothes. She only knew he’d been as eager as she was to have nothing between them.

Beck had an athlete’s body with broad shoulders, narrow hips, and large, clever hands. She found herself overcome with the desire to run her fingers over his body, to feel the corded strength of skin and muscle sliding under her fingers. She wanted to feel the weight of his body on hers. Wanted to feel him inside her.

The flames from the firelight cast a golden glow to the room, which was unlit save for a floor lamp in a far corner. It felt as if she and Beck had been transported to a world made up of just the two of them, one filled with warmth and caring and incredible need.

His lips returned to her mouth for a long, deep kiss that had her head spinning. She slid her fingers through his hair.

When his warm mouth moved down her neck, scattering kisses everywhere, she arched her back and begged him not to stop. With a smile and a murmur of reassurance, he continued to taste and touch until her whole body ached with a need she hadn’t known she possessed.

Ami had never experienced anything like the emotions and feelings Beck stirred in her. After tracing the small broken-heart tattoo on her left hip with one finger, Beck placed a kiss in the center.

As their lovemaking continued, Ami grew more confident, becoming bolder. She was determined to give pleasure as well as receive. If Beck’s moans were any indication, he appreciated her effort.

Her pleasure began to build; Ami desperately wanted—no,
needed
—him to be even closer. Beck held off, kissing and touching her in ways that made her squirm and writhe beneath him in pleasure. Finally, when his breath came in short puffs and she was ready to explode, he sheathed himself and entered her slowly.

She was ready.

Beck took it slow until she arched toward him and began to rock her hips in a pattern as old as time. She dug her nails into his back, determined not to have him stop.

Her passion soared like the rockets that exploded over Green Bay on the Fourth of July. She tossed her head from side to side, tried to catch her breath, then gave up the effort as her release claimed her.

She cried out Beck’s name and clung to him. She hadn’t known, she thought hazily as her body released and muscles contracted, that this much pleasure existed in the world. That she could feel so good, so right, so everything.

Beck continued to stroke, to caress, until he’d wrung every last drop of pleasure from her before he took his own release, plunging deep once more and crying out.

When he shuddered and collapsed onto her, his heart beating hard against her chest, it pleased Ami to know she hadn’t been the only one affected.

Ami wasn’t sure how long they remained there. When he finally rolled off of her, she felt cold and lonely and more than a little apprehensive. She wasn’t experienced, and she desperately hoped it really had been as good for him as it had been for her.

Then he made everything so easy and right by simply pulling her close. “You about killed me, Ami darlin’.”

She saw warmth and amazement in his eyes. His lips curved up.

“You did pretty good.”

“Pretty good?” he said in a teasing growl.

“Okay, excellent.” She chuckled, so languid and relaxed any concerns she’d harbored had nowhere to hide. “I wonder if it would be as good in a different setting.”

Puzzlement filled his gaze.

She leaned over and planted a kiss at the base of his neck, his skin salty beneath her lips. “Like in the shower.”

“Ami Bloom, you are a surprise and a delight.” Beck grinned and grabbed her hand. “Let’s find out.”

Instead of having coffee and pastries at his café the next morning, Beck whipped up a breakfast of bacon and eggs and lots of black coffee at his house. Then he insisted on walking her home. They held hands on the way to her bakery.

When they reached the front door to the shop, Beck folded her into his arms, anchoring her against his chest as his mouth covered hers in a deep, compelling kiss. Dreamily, Ami stroked his thick hair.

“I’d like to see you—and your tattoo—again,” he murmured against her neck.

Love for him blew through her. She’d never felt such a connection to any man. Ami wasn’t just falling in love with Beck. She was already there.

Her lips curved. “I think that could be arranged.”

“Later, darlin’.” He stepped back, but his arms remained around her, as if reluctant to give up the intimacy.

She cast him a flirtatious glance. “You know where to find me.”

But when he turned to go, she went with impulse, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and, raising herself on her tiptoes, kissed once more.

She heard him whistling as he strolled away. Ami knew just how he felt, as she was ready to burst into song. Once inside her shop she decided to enjoy a cup of tea while her heartbeat steadied.

Ami hummed as she heated water for the tea in the back. Despite her hearty breakfast, a lemon curd scone seemed to be calling her name, so she dropped it onto a pretty floral plate. As she sank into a chair, Ami realized she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so happy.

Darlin’.

It might be sophomoric, but she loved the way the endearment rolled off Beck’s tongue.

She’d devoured half the scone when a tapping sounded at the door. Though the Closed sign was facing the street, out-of-towners often knocked, hoping the sign was a mistake. Ami shifted her gaze and saw Dakota at the door, a thin jacket the girl’s only protection against a stiff wind.

Quickly unlocking the door, Ami motioned the teenager inside.

“Come and warm up.” Ami noticed but didn’t comment on the girl’s red-rimmed eyes. “You’re just in time for tea and scones.”

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” Dakota pushed a straggly strand of hair back from her eyes with a jerky gesture.

“You might be when you taste my lemon curd scones. They’re fabulous.” Ami kept her voice light and casual. “The tea will warm you up. You have to be cold. The wind is brutal today.”

“Okay, yes.” Dakota’s eyes darted around the shop.

“We’re alone,” Ami told her as she crossed the room, made a cup of Earl Grey, and plated another scone. “I’m glad you stopped by.”

“I didn’t know where else to go.” Dakota took the floral cup and saucer with a hand that visibly trembled.

“A bakery is always a good choice.” Ami offered an easy smile.

Dakota bit into the scone, chewed. “This is good.”

“Told you.” Ami winked and sipped her tea.

The teen kept casting furtive glances at the front window, as if worried someone walking by might see her. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”

“I invited you.” Ami picked up her plate and cup. “On second thought, why don’t we go upstairs to my apartment? We can talk more comfortably there.”

Relief rippled across Dakota’s face. She jumped to her feet so quickly her knees bumped against the table.

Inside her apartment, Ami gestured to the small dinette table in the kitchen. “Why don’t we sit over there? The sun is coming in so fiercely this morning, as long as we don’t look outside and see the snow, we can pretend that it’s summer.”