llen. A fall like that would have killed you.”
His face was so tortured right now that her heart squeezed. Considering his past, of course this was upsetting. But she stepped a bit closer, enough that she could put her hand on his forearm. “What I’m asking is if this is about the danger or if you think kissing me was a mistake.”
He didn’t answer. She watched as he swallowed, his throat bobbing with the effort as she slid her hand to his wrist and twined her fingers with his.
“Kissing me isn’t wrong, Bran,” she said softly. “It’s just a kiss. I liked it.”
His thumb rubbed over hers. She was sure he didn’t realize he was doing it, but it did strange things to her insides. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why? We’re adults. Kissing is...kissing.” She tried a flirty smile, unsure of how it really looked, figuring she probably appeared awkward. But she was trying. She wanted to keep this light. And she wanted to kiss him again. There was nothing wrong with that, was there?
So she eased herself even closer and lifted her other hand to his face. His eyes closed as her thumb rubbed over the crest of his cheekbone, a soft caress to a man who appeared to need it desperately. She wondered how long it had been since he’d been touched. If there’d been anyone since his wife’s death...considering how he hid himself away, she somehow doubted it. Was what just happened the first physical intimacy he’d had in two years?
“Branson,” she whispered, and his eyes opened. “Please kiss me again. Please.”
There was a pause where she didn’t think he was going to, and then he dipped his head and touched his lips to hers.
It was different from the kiss outside, which had been windswept and turbulent and unexpected. This was gentle, deliberate, decimating. Jess leaned into him as he folded her into an embrace, and kissed her with a thoroughness that left her breathless and wanting more.
But more was too much, at least for today. So she contented herself with the kiss, the nuances of it, the way he delved deeply and then retreated to nibble at the corner of her mouth, stealing her breath. The way his broad hand curled around the tender skin of her neck, where her pulse drummed heavily. How his body was solid and warm and unrelenting in all the right places, while his lips were soft and persuasive.
She was the one to break away finally, a bit overwhelmed by her own feelings and desires. If it were up to her, they’d christen the lighthouse right here and now, or perhaps dash over the rocky knoll to the house and find their way to his bed. Those desires were natural and exciting, but it was different with Bran. He wasn’t the type to sleep with a woman impulsively, or to simply slake a thirst. Not after what he’d been through. So she stepped away, bit down on her lower lip, hoping to memorize his taste, and took a deep, yet shaky, breath.
“You’re some kisser,” she said, trying a smile. “Please don’t apologize for that.”
He turned away and faced the windows, looking out over the ocean, and cleared his throat. She smiled a little to herself as she recognized the moment for what it was. She wasn’t the only one aroused from that kiss. Secretly, she was glad that stopping was difficult for him, too.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” he replied, his voice rough. “But—”
“Don’t say but,” she interrupted. “Let’s just leave it as a very nice moment between two very nice people, with no regrets or expectations.”
He turned his head to look at her. “Is that possible?”
“I think so. Besides, you’re not ready. I’m not stupid, Bran.”
He nodded. “We should go back down. The afternoon’s getting on.”
He opened the trapdoor, and Jess started down the stairs. They were plunged into darkness again as he shut the door, blocking out the light. The small window partway up gave them a sliver of grayness to navigate by, and then they reached the bottom. Branson opened the door and Jess stepped outside into the blustery wind, while he followed and locked the door behind him.
She shouldered her bag and gathered up her gear. Without asking or offering, Bran carried her folding chair and one of her bags to her car, which sat at the end of the lane—she still didn’t park at the house. Didn’t feel it would be right.
They were nearly to her car when she let out a breath and said what had been on her mind for the last ten minutes. “Bran?”
“Yeah?”
“You weren’t thinking of...her, were you? Your wife? When we were kissing?”
And then she held her breath. She could understand him not being ready. Could understand if she was the first sexual contact he’d had since losing Jennie. But she did not want to be a stand-in. Bran didn’t have much of a poker face. She peered up at him, hoping she could tell if he were lying.
He didn’t look at her, but faced straight ahead. “No,” he said firmly. “No, I was not thinking of her when I kissed you.”
She should have been relieved. But the underlying anger in his voice killed whatever joy she might have felt.
Because maybe he hadn’t been thinking of his dead wife. But he wasn’t happy about it, either. And that left her exactly nowhere.
CHAPTER FIVE
BRAN DIDN’T GO to the lighthouse anymore. He had no problem with Jessica setting up there, and he sometimes caught glimpses of her, but he didn’t watch from the balcony or take her food or ask if she’d like to go inside.