The Bookstore on the Beach - Brenda Novak Page 0,76

never forget this experience—Quinn’s soft T-shirt beneath her serving as their only scrap of blanket, the briny scent of the sea filling her nostrils with every breath, the waves rushing up to curl around their ankles.

And Quinn, of course, who was no longer a boy.

As much as she’d allowed Nick to make fun of what she’d done that day in Quinn’s tree house, it was still one of her all-time favorite memories. But this second experience was on an entirely new level. This time Quinn was fully engaged and making it clear how badly he wanted her. Since he’d been only half-interested before, she felt a small sense of victory. But at the same time, she knew she’d lost the battle she’d been waging against herself, that she’d severed one of the last ties that bound her to Nick: her fidelity.

As she tilted her head to give Quinn better access to the sensitive skin below her ear, she wondered if she’d regret what she was doing. Was she destroying something precious? She’d always considered her marriage to be sacrosanct, had never imagined it coming to an end via an act of desire for another man, especially on a beach in her hometown. On some level, she still loved her husband.

But Nick was becoming part of the past—a memory that was fading—and Quinn was alive and well and capable of touching her, laughing with her, sharing the here and now.

She closed her eyes as he pressed more deeply inside her, reveling in the satisfaction it gave her while letting her hands move over him, feeling the contours of the muscles that contracted beneath the smooth skin of his arms and shoulders and back. She wanted to memorize every detail, just in case this was the only time they’d be together like this before regular life intervened and tore them apart. She didn’t trust what was happening; it was too good to last.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his breath hoarse.

Their lovemaking had escalated so quickly that she could understand why he’d be uncertain. It had only been a few minutes since he first kissed her. But the second she’d tasted him, she’d known she didn’t stand a chance against the rush of desire that overwhelmed her. She’d slid her arms around his neck, fisted her hands in his hair and deepened the kiss herself, allowing it to turn hungry and demanding, and the clothes had come off from there.

The last thing she wanted him to do was stop.

“I’m good,” she gasped. “This is...good.”

The white of his teeth flashed in a grin. “Thank God,” he muttered.

She tried to laugh but didn’t have the breath for it.

“We’ll go slow after this,” he joked, referring to what he’d said earlier, and again she tried to laugh.

“Just make me forget,” she said as the tension began to build, promising an incredible release. “Make me forget everything.”

When she said that, he surprised her by pausing to smooth the hair out of her eyes. “There’s nothing to forget, Autumn,” he said. “You’re not doing anything wrong, and I’m not out to take anything away from you, to ruin what you had with Nick. I just want you to trust that what we could have together might be just as good.”

After that, he became singularly intent on proving to her that she certainly wouldn’t be missing out on anything in the bedroom. And when he was done, she had to admit—he’d turned her into a believer.

17

The first thing Autumn saw when she got home was Nick’s rain boots in the corner of the apartment. She stared at them for a long time, battling a sudden upwelling of guilt, despair and uncertainty. What had she done? She’d had a wonderful, intimate experience with another man, after which they’d both dressed and sat side by side on the beach to watch the rest of a gorgeous sunrise. She’d felt so close to Quinn. There’d been nothing cheap or tawdry about what they’d done. Their lovemaking had been moving and intense and hopeful—promising. It had made her feel as though there was new life and happiness ahead, in spite of everything.

But had she just been unfaithful to her husband?

As other evidences of Nick’s existence and his rightful place in her life began to jump out at her—his business books and legal tomes next to her novels on the shelves, the picture of their family on the dresser and the knowledge that the drawers in that same dresser held his shorts, T-shirts, socks