Tidal Falls (Wounded Hearts Book 1) by Jacquie Biggar

his hardness, he nibbled along her smooth jawline up to her ear, breathing in the essence of sunshine and roses that was so much a part of her. Giving a little bite to the lobe, he smiled against her throat as she moaned and dropped her head back to give him access. He tucked back a stubborn strand of silky hair, before cupping her warm cheek. “I’ve dreamt of this, you know. Of us being together like this. You’re so damn beautiful. But––I don’t think we should rush into something you might regret, so how about we go inside and I’ll make a nice hot cup of tea. We'll take things slow and see where we end up, okay?”
    The gratitude swimming in the golden depths of her upward glance told him more than words ever could. “That sounds perfect. I guess you noticed how nervous I am.”
    “Don't be , honey. We won't do anything you aren’t ready to do.” He stroked a finger down her cheek, enjoying the feel of its velvety smoothness.
    “What if I want it all , Nick? What then?” she murmured into his chest, her innocent directness almost unmanning him right there.
    “Well , then I'll die a very happy man,” he only half bantered. Jesus, he wanted this woman. More than he could remember ever wanting another.
    Only when , and if she’s ready. Don’t rush her.
    He led her through the back door, smiling as she looked around, glad for once the Navy had drummed cleanliness into him. He lit his stove and placed the kettle on to boil. Searching through the cupboard he found a bag of Oreo cookies, and a couple of delicate looking porcelain teacups, and set them on the island counter behind him. Catching her amused expression, he shrugged. “They came with the place, and what's tea without cookies, right?”
    She snickered, the sound a sweet chime, and moved to hike herself up onto one of the wooden bar stools. “You’re right, tea is meant for dunking. You know, you’re not at all what I expected after our first meeting.”
    “Yeah, I wasn’t too sociable. ” He grimaced.
    “And then you almost decked me.”
    “Hey now, that was purely accidental.” Serious, he reached across the counter and caressed her cheek. “I would never hurt this pretty face.” Unbidden, a tear slipped down her face and he cursed under his breath, his careless words leaching the warmth from the room.
    “He di d, you know. My husband. He did,” she whispered, the color fading from her skin, leaving her face pale and almost translucent.
    Freezing at the anguish oozing from her voice, he dropped his hand and wrapped her ice cold fingers in his. He was going to kill the son-of-a-bitch. He swore roughly, aloud this time. Keeping calm was the hardest thing Nick had ever done, but Sara needed comfort right now, not more violence.
    Reaching behind, he turned off the stove , and then, keeping her hand in his, circled the island to her side. “Come on honey, let’s sit in the living room and get this off your chest.” Tugging her up gently, he led Sara down the hall into the semi-darkened room. Sitting in a big, leather rocking chair he pulled her down onto his lap, and turned her so her head rested on his shoulder and her legs stretched out over the side.
    H e rubbed up and down her ribcage trying to infuse some of his warmth into her chilled skin. His chin rested on the top of her head. For a while, there was only the squeak of his old chair and the tick of the clock in the hallway, hypnotizing them both as it slowly counted the minutes.
    W hen she began to speak her tone was careful, controlled. “The night I met Tom, I’d recently lost my foster father. I was lonely, he was handsome and charming, and said all the right things. Before I knew it, he’d swept me off my feet. And when he told me we should get married, I stupidly believed he loved me.” She snorted, “More fool me.”
    Gazing up at him with despair, she continued, “I thought things were good between us, and they were. Until I found out I was pregnant. I couldn’t