Thinking about their tempestuous lovemaking by the pool afterwards made Jessie’s heartbeat throb heavily and the flush hit her cheeks as she pushed open the door of the gallery.
‘Monroe!’ She flung her hands around his neck, making him almost drop the grocery sack in his arms.
‘Watch it, Red. This is our lunch.’
She pressed her lips to his. ‘I’m too happy to see you to care about food.’
The grin spread slowly across his face. ‘Is that right?’ He slung the sack under his arm, put one hand around her waist and pulled her closer. ‘Let’s do that again.’
The kiss was long and heated this time. ‘Mmm.’ He licked his lips. ‘Damn it, there you go tempting me again. You’ll make me forget.’
‘Forget what?’
‘Come on. The Harley’s round the back.’ He gripped her hand, pulled her behind him down the small alleyway that led to the customer car park.
‘Are we going home?’ She certainly hoped so.
‘No way.’ He shot her a quick grin, but carried on walking, forcing Jessie to jog to keep up with his long strides. ‘You’ll just end up jumping me again.’
‘Yes, please.’
‘Who knew you sweet little English girls could be so damned insatiable?’
‘Well, really.’ Jessie laughed. ‘Who knew you Yankee guys would get knackered so quickly?’
‘Knackered!’ He stopped in front of the Harley
, dumped the grocery sack on the bike seat and put his hands on her hips. He placed a light kiss on her lips, his eyes challenging. ‘You wanna bet on that?’
‘I certainly do.’ She drew her arms up, threaded her fingers through the soft, shaggy gold-streaked hair that she adored. ‘Still think you can handle me?’
His hands slid around to her bottom, massaging the flesh through the thin fabric of the cotton trouser suit she wore. ‘If it’s a matter of my Yankee honour.’ He dipped his head, took her lips in a hot, demanding kiss.
She drew back, breathless. ‘You win, Yankee boy.’
He gave her bottom one more quick squeeze and then let her go. ‘Hell, I guess that means I don’t get to ravish you, right?’
‘You can’t have it both ways, buster,’ she said, lifting a coquettish eyebrow.
He sighed, pulled her helmet out of the bike’s saddlebags and handed it to her. ‘Mount up. We’re going on a picnic.’
The streets of Cranford were clogged with tourists. Monroe had to ease the bike down Main Street, threading through the crowds of people heading to the town’s beach. The old-fashioned clapboard sidewalks were overflowing, spilling tourists into the road like so much flotsam. The midday sun was a killer, scorching bare flesh and making children cranky and unmanageable.
Monroe didn’t mind the delay a bit. He could feel Jessie’s arms tight around his waist, her thighs pressed against his hips. As much as he would have loved to head straight home, he forced himself not to.
He’d gorged on her the last four days. But it seemed the more of her he had, the more he needed. The way she responded to him was like a fire in his blood, making him want more all the time, making him take more. He knew he’d exhausted her last night—and himself.
He’d slept like a log.
Ever since prison he’d had trouble getting to sleep. Not any more, it seemed. With her in his arms, snuggled against him in the darkness, the stir of passion still flowing through him, he’d drifted off like a baby.
He’d decided on the way to town that this afternoon was going to be different. He was going to prove he could keep his hands off her.
He’d stopped by the grocery store on his way into the gallery and picked up some stuff for lunch. He knew of a nice little spot at Montauk Point that shouldn’t be too crowded, but there would be enough people about to stop him getting any ideas. Not that he needed them there, of course; he could keep his hands off her if he had to.
As the bike finally cruised past the town limits he revved his hand on the throttle. As they shot down Sunrise Highway, he couldn’t ignore the thrill that surged through him as Jessie’s arms tightened around his waist.
Jessie could see the lighthouse, tall and solitary at the end of the point, as the sea breeze whipped at her face. She clung onto Monroe as the bike angled down to the left, along a narrow strip of path that led to a small spray of sand hugging the Point’s leeward side. A few tourists had been milling about up top, but once Monroe brought the bike to a stop at the edge of the sand she couldn’t see anyone.