A songwriter is nothing without his muse. Sucks that mine turns out to be Katherine D’Arcy––hot as hell, but the very definition of country-club living and everything I came to this quiet little island to escape. The last thing I need is some live life by her day-planner summer girl screwing with my head, but I can’t stop thinking about her…those curves, silky brown hair, and those eyes… I left that privileged world behind when I came up to Little Bear Island hoping for some inspiration to write my songs. But here I am still, two years later, unable to write crap. That is until Katherine showed up to tend the lighthouse for the summer and drive me crazy. With her here, the writing has never been better. If only there weren’t that one inconvenient truth I’ve been keeping from her… Because when she learns what I’ve been hiding, I know I will lose her forever.
“I want to kiss you. I haven’t thought about much else since the night on your beach. But there’s something else that keeps me up at night, and that’s the idea that I’m kissing someone else’s girlfriend. It’s wrong.”
“We broke up,” I say quickly, desperate for him to kiss me again but shocked by how ridiculously sad it is that Andrew, my imaginary boyfriend, is now Andrew my imaginary ex.
Bennet pulls back sharply. “You did?”
“Yeah,” I say, my gaze shifting from his lips to his eyes, then back down again.
There is a flicker of hesitation, an intake of breath, and then Bennet lunges, yanking me against his hard body. One hand laces through my hair, and the other arm locks around my waist, his mouth crashing down on mine. His kiss tells me that if he ever had any doubts about me, they were only temporary.
My lips open, and a growl rumbles out of him. The play of his hands against my body creates a blistering heat that sets a rocket’s course to the juncture between my legs. My arms are around his back. His muscles tense beneath my fingers. I can feel him hard against my thigh, and a humming excitement runs through my stomach and curls my toes.
My fingers clench his hair as my mind whirls. His kiss deepens and pulls a small whimper from somewhere deep inside me. It emboldens him, and his right hand slips upward, from the flare of my hip to my breast where it lingers.
“D’Arcy.” He groans, and the sound is both exciting and...experienced. My body stiffens with the realization that this could really go somewhere. And quickly.
I should have paid more attention to Macie’s stories because I don’t have the faintest idea how to do this. Bennet is older. He’s probably had sex, like, a million times. Well, I hope not a million, but...shit, what if I’m horrible at this? What if he laughs? Or worse. What if he’s disappointed?
A. S. Green lives in the cold upper Midwest with her husband and three children. She spends summers on Lake Superior, which is the muse for Summer Girl, and she is a sucker for down-to-earth heroes who work with their hands (if they play guitar, that’s an added bonus). She enjoys all things Irish––particularly music, dancing, and Jameson. When she’s not writing or reading romance, she’s traveling, camping, blogging for Writer Unboxed, and writing YA (under her real name).
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