And Then Forever Page 10

  “What are we doing?” she asked. “This was just supposed to be one drink.”

  “And it is. With the bonus of a shoulder rub.” He kept on rubbing, and she became putty in his hands. Every touch sent a delicious warmth through her. “Okay, since this is supposed to be our time to catch up…tell me about the last seven years.”

  “There’s not much to tell. I’m still living here, though now I own a cottage on the beach, instead of renting a room from Whit and Grace. My house isn’t much, but it’s big enough for me. Kind of ironic that I became a homeowner and a regular resident. I always told my mother I was never going to do any of that.”

  Kincaid chuckled. “We all grow up eventually.”

  “I like to think I didn’t grow up. Just…got smarter.” She grinned. “Anyway, I love it here, and love my life.”

  “Maybe living simpler is the answer,” Kincaid said. “I have this ridiculously huge apartment in New York, and I use maybe a tenth of it. But the house here, the one Whit is renting me, is just right. I doubt it’s more than a thousand square feet, but it’s a perfect size.”

  “Then maybe you should downgrade the New York apartment to a cramped walkup studio on the tenth floor.”

  He laughed. “I don’t know if I want to go that small. But yeah, I’d love to live in something less…pretentious.”

  “Then why do you live there?” She leaned a little to the right and Kincaid’s thumb hit a knot. God, she wanted to keep his hands on her forever. He was an expert at massages. “Oh…yes.”

  “Right here?”

  “Yes…oh, yes, please. Right there.”

  “Your wish is my command, Darcy.” He rubbed until the knot eased, and her shoulders sank a little in relief. “The apartment was a perk for my job. All the partners at my father’s law firm get apartments. I didn’t ask for it; it just came with the position.”

  “You’re already a partner? But you just graduated law school, right? I mean, you haven’t practiced that long.” Not that she should be too surprised. Kincaid was smart and driven.

  “My father believes in solidifying the Foster position as quickly and efficiently as possible.” He moved a few inches south, rolling his thumb over the knobs of her spine. Oh my. Even better than the shoulders. “Or maybe it’s more a matter of making sure I am committed to the firm, right from the very start.”

  “And are you?”

  Kincaid stopped working her back and shoulders for a while. His hands rested there, but his mind was somewhere else. “No, not anymore. I have some hard choices ahead of me, choices that I’ve put on a back burner while I’m here. But choices that will have to be made, sooner rather than later. I’m not sure how long my sister will need me, or how that will impact the future.”

  It was almost the same debate Kincaid had had with himself years ago. The man she’d met that summer had said he didn’t want to work for his father, didn’t even want to be a lawyer. At the same time, he didn’t see a way out of the life that had been planned for him since the day he was born. Yet, he’d also craved a relationship with his distant and workaholic father, and thought the only way to get that was to do what Edgar wanted.

  As soon as they broke up, she’d heard that he had gone off to Harvard after all, and goose-stepped right into the plan Edgar Foster had laid out. Now, Kincaid said he wanted to throw that aside. Did he mean it? Or was this just another pipe dream she couldn’t rely on?

  “Anyway, I’m here now, for a while,” Kincaid said. “My father won’t be happy, but then again, he’s never really happy.”

  Darcy put a hand on top of Kincaid’s. A part of her wanted to lean into him, to tell him she understood parents who didn’t support their children. That she knew what it was like to hope that someday, a connection could be forged. For Darcy, her connection with her mother had come almost too late. It was only when her mother put the bottle aside and realized she had nearly lost her daughter and only grandchild that Darcy was given two years of her mother being a true part of her life. It had eased the wounds of the past, and though she missed her mother now and cursed the cirrhosis that had taken her too soon, Darcy would be forever grateful for that time. Her heart ached for Kincaid, because he didn’t have that and maybe never would. But saying that would be rebuilding the bridge from that summer, and she was only here for one drink. One. “Thanks for the shoulder massage. I should probably get home.”

  He rose and came around in front of her, cocking a hip against the wooden table. That smile she loved played on his lips, flickered in his eyes. “I thought you promised me a dance.”

  “The band already went home. And I don’t remember promising any dancing.” Her argument was about as strong as her resolve right now.

  “We don’t need a band.” Kincaid fished his phone out of his pocket, opened the music app and turned it on. The strains of an old Queen song began to play through the tinny speakers. Kincaid put out a hand. “Ready?”

  Oh, what the hell. It was only a dance. And she was feeling warm and happy from the shot and the shoulder massage. “Sure.” She took Kincaid’s hand, and let him lead her to the empty spot in the center of the deck.

  He kept hold of one hand, rested the other loosely on her waist, and started to sway with her. She moved with him, in, out, left, right, their steps quick and light, and before she knew it, she was smiling and laughing. Kincaid spun her out, in, reeling her into his chest.

  When Joey had done the same thing earlier tonight, Darcy had felt nothing. But when her back collided with Kincaid’s front, a cavalcade of fireworks exploded inside her. She wanted to stay there, to press harder against the length of him, to let him rest his head on her shoulder and fall in with him all over again. Instead, she spun out, away, distance giving her a little perspective. Just a little.

  Before she knew it, they were pouring a second shot, and dancing to another fast song. They laughed and talked about the island, the things that had changed, the things that had stayed the same. The second drink of tequila loosened everything Darcy kept buttoned up, and she found herself slipping between Kincaid’s legs and dancing up against him. Hot, fast, insane.

  She didn’t care. She wanted him. She always had. She always would.

  The song ended, and a ballad began to play, slow and sweet. As if by mutual agreement, Kincaid took Darcy against him, and she slid into his arms, chest to chest, hips to hips. His hands slid along her back, resting on the curve of her ass, and she leaned into his shoulder and inhaled his cologne and had a brief moment of thinking, oh no, I’m falling for him again, before Kincaid leaned down and kissed her.

  The kiss started slow and easy, like sliding into a pool. Then he tangled his hands in her hair, and that was all it took to strike a match to the embers already burning inside her. She reached up and grabbed his head and pulled him closer, tighter, and the kiss deepened. His tongue played with hers, her breath began to come in gasps, and the desire thundered so loud in her head, she heard no other coherent thoughts. She tugged at the hem of his T-shirt, wanting to feel his skin, wanting to feel him, wanting all that was familiar and wonderful and good.

  He did the same with her, and a second later, their shirts were on the deck. He reached behind her, unfastening the hooks of her bra. The straps slid carelessly down her arms. Kincaid caught one in the crook of his finger, then stepped back. His gaze connected with hers, hot and dark, as he pulled down the strap and revealed her breasts a little at a time. The bra fell to the floor, and she stood there in the moonlight, half naked.

  “God, you are still so beautiful,” he said. “So, so beautiful.” His fingers danced along her skin, skipping over the swell of her breast, then along the edge of her nipple. Then he trailed his touch lower, lingering along the silver ring in her belly. “You still have it.”

  She gave a one-shoulder shrug. “It’s part of me.”

  “It’s one of the parts that turned me on the most. Then. And now.” He dropped down, placed a soft, quick kiss on her bellybutton, then rose
again and kissed her, deeper this time, hotter, his tongue playing with hers.

  She ached, oh how she ached for more, for him to grab her and take her now, right now. She fumbled in her back pocket for the condom, having that one moment of clear thought of never making the same mistake twice, and pressed it into his palm. She wanted him, wanted him more than she wanted to breathe, and if she thought about it another second, her common sense would stop her. She didn’t want common sense. Didn’t want to think about tomorrow. She wanted Kincaid, in her, on her. Now. “Don’t say anything, Kincaid. Just…just fuck me.”

  He arched a brow, and a smile filled his face. “Darcy, I—”

  She pressed her palm over his lips. If he said another word, she’d change her mind. Her brain would start telling her it was a mistake, that she could lose her heart a second time. So she shushed him and shushed that part of her and whispered, “Just fuck me.”

  His hands went to his shorts, and a moment later, they were undone and on the ground, followed by her shorts, her cowboy boots. The moonlight glowed on their bare skin, kissing them with silver. Kincaid lowered her to the floor, on top of the pile of their clothes, and grasped both of her hands in his. He raised them above her head while his mouth slid lower, lower, to take one nipple in his mouth. She arched against him, seeking more, needing more, and he slipped two fingers inside her, working the deepest parts of her at the same time his mouth toyed with her nipple. The first orgasm hit her fast and hard, and then she was tugging her hands out of his and grabbing his hips and urging him into her.

  Kincaid sank his cock inside her, in one long, hard stroke. Darcy gasped, and gripped his ass, his back, anything she could touch, hold, grab, to bring him closer, deeper still. His hazel eyes met hers, and she had to look away because it was too much, too close, and all she wanted right now was the sex. She could handle that.

  He sped up his strokes, harder, faster, and she was gripping at him and calling out his name and meeting his thrusts with her own. The orgasm built inside her, spiraling upward, seeming to explode in her body like a tidal wave, and then she was lost, lost inside Kincaid, in a long, hot, sweet moment that stole her breath.

  He stayed on top of her for a moment, reaching up a hand to brush away a tendril of hair off her face. He met her gaze, his expression serious, and once again, Darcy had to look away. She rolled to the side, forcing Kincaid to move off of her and over to the other side.

  All Darcy wanted to do right now was run. Her heart was hammering, not because of the orgasm anymore, but because she realized that she hadn’t just had sex with Kincaid. She’d unlocked her heart again, nudging open that window between them that she had shut years ago. A part of her wanted to curve into the protective circle of his arms, lean her head on his chest and listen to his heart beat, just as she had a hundred times that summer. She wanted to feel the rough touch of his five o’clock shadow against her forehead, listen to the low rumble of his voice as he talked.

  Instead, she picked up her bra, not even caring that she only managed to get one hook fastened. She slid on her panties, and had her shorts halfway on before Kincaid stopped her. “What are you doing?”

  “I have to go home. It’s been a long day and I’m tired and…” Her voice trailed off.

  “And you’re having second thoughts about what we just did?”

  “No, of course not.” She might as well brand herself with the word liar. “It was fine.”

  “Fine?” He chuckled. “Then I have lost my touch.”

  “You haven’t lost anything.” The words escaped her before she could stop them. Damn it. This wasn’t the plan. Wasn’t the plan at all. She wrangled into her T-shirt and started pulling on her boots. “I just…I have to go.”

  Kincaid got to his feet and pulled on his shorts. “That’s it? Wham, bam, thank you?”

  “Come on, Kincaid, we both know this isn’t going anywhere. You’re eventually going back to your life, and mine will always be here, on this island. We’ve already been down that summer fling road before.”

  “Is that what you thought it was that summer? Just a fling?”

  No, she’d thought it was something more. Something permanent. Something she could have and hold for the rest of her life. Back then, she’d believed that. But now…she knew what a price she would pay if she brought Kincaid any further into her life.

  How could she have been so stupid? How could she have let her desire take over like that? It was as if she was eighteen again, impulsive and heedless of consequences, doing whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it. As if she wasn’t the mother of a six-year-old, who had bills to pay and a daughter to protect and an impossible, controlling contract that hung over her head every day of her life.

  “I always thought you were an open book, Darcy.” Confusion glimmered in Kincaid’s eyes. “That I could tell you anything because I knew you, knew you better than myself. And you’ve been that way, until just now. It’s like you put up this wall.” He shook his head.

  “I’m just being realistic. This…whatever this was tonight probably won’t last. It happens all the time,” she said. Lying to him. To herself. “People fall in love during the season, then they go back to reality in the fall.” She gathered the glasses and the bottle, holding them against her chest, as if it the tequila would provide enough of a barrier between her heart and Kincaid.

  “It was more than that for me that summer, Darcy. I never expected you to break up with me like that.” He took a step closer. “Why did you do it?”

  She looked away. “It’s past history. We can’t go there again.”

  “We were so happy, Darcy.” He let out a breath and laced their fingers together. How she wanted to hold onto his hands, to hold onto his touch, his words. “I…I wanted to marry you.”

  Marry? The word hit her like a lightning bolt. She jerked away from him, met his eyes. He really wanted to marry her back then? “You…you did?”

  “Yes, I did. I even had a ring.” He shrugged, like it was no big deal, but she could see the shimmer of hurt in his eyes. “I bought it from Betsy Cohen’s shop, the one on Main Street. It wasn’t much, but that summer, all I wanted was to be with you forever.”

  Her heart stuttered. What if she had told Kincaid the truth? Would he still have wanted to marry her then? Would they still be together now, a little happy family of three? She couldn’t go back and do all that over. She couldn’t think of those what-ifs because they would destroy her. What was done was done, what was signed was signed, and she couldn’t change any of it. “Oh, Kincaid, don’t say those things. It’s over. We’re two different people now.”

  “Are we? Because I saw the same people we used to be, out here on this deck tonight.”

  She wanted to believe him, wanted to trust in a future that had never happened. But then she thought of his father and the contract she had signed. She couldn’t risk her heart, and certainly couldn’t risk losing Emma. So she steeled her features and feigned a coldness she didn’t feel. “That was sex. Nothing more.”

  His face hardened. “Maybe it was to you.” Then he gave her one last long look, before he turned on his heel and headed down the stairs. A second later, he was gone, swallowed by the dark night.

  “Who switched your Froot Loops for All-Bran this morning?” Abby asked. She and Kincaid were sitting at the small kitchen table in Whit’s rental house. Abby had tried several times to talk to Kincaid, telling him how much the baby was kicking, how she wanted to go into town today to buy a few more things for the nursery, how she should probably start looking for a more permanent housing solution over the next few days, and he’d responded with nothing more than grunts.

  “Sorry. Just a lot on my mind.”

  Worry clouded Abby’s face. “Is it Father? Has he tried to contact you?”

  “He did. I shut my phone off.”

  She laughed. “Getting nothing but voicemail is going to drive him nuts.”

  “It is. But it’s better than him calling me every fiv
e seconds to yell at me for abdicating my responsibilities.”

  Abby chewed on her bottom lip. “Do you think he’s going to figure out that we’re here?”

  Kincaid had paid cash for everything that he had done with Abby, from the rental to the crib. He’d left no paper trail because he knew his father would try to track his son and daughter with any means possible. With their phones off, Abby knew Edgar couldn’t track them, but there was a possibility he had already started doing that before Kincaid powered down.

  They both had worried from the start that Gordon might go looking for Abby. The cash choice had bought them some time, but not as much as Kincaid or Abby would like. She could see the stress and worry in her big brother’s face, and wished she could help ease his fears. But they were the same fears that tightened her own chest.

  “I think he will figure out we came to the island very soon,” Kincaid said. “If he hasn’t already. And he’ll show up, with the cavalry, if he needs to.”

  “To bring us both back in line.” Abby squared her shoulders and sat up straighter in the chair. She could do this. She would do this. She was no longer going to let anyone—her own father included—decide where and how she lived her life. “I’m not going back, Kincaid. I don’t care if I’m penniless the rest of my life. I don’t care if Father never speaks to me again. All I care about is right here, in this kitchen.”

  He covered his sister’s hand with his own. “Me, too. And I have enough saved that you won’t ever be penniless. You’ll be fine. I swear it.”

  Her eyes watered and she gave his fingers a squeeze. “You are a good big brother, you know that?”

  “Only because I have a better little sister.”

  She laughed. Kincaid deserved to be happy, she thought. He deserved and needed a woman who would spoil him, give him a family of his own. “Well, some woman is going to be mighty lucky to marry you. But you better choose wisely. I want a sister-in-law who will eat cake with me and talk smack about you behind your back.”

  “Hey, I thought I was a good big brother. Why would you do that?”