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The Way Home: Finding Home, #3
Di Rachel Caid
Azioni libro
Inizia a leggereLunghezza: 302 pagine7 ore
- Editore:
- Rachel Caid
- Pubblicato:
- Sep 27, 2016
- ISBN:
- 9781537465340
- Formato:
- Libro
Descrizione
Emmaline Sanders is head over heels in love. She didn't expect to meet the man of her dreams while visiting her brother, but she won't dismiss the chance at her own happily ever after. There's just one problem - the thousand miles separating them. Phone calls and letters are enough for now, but eventually something will have to change. She wants to wake up to his face every morning.
Peter Johnston knows his love for Emmy is worth every plane trip and stolen weekend, no matter how hard it is. She is everything he's everything hoped for, even if they are in different time zones, for now. The one thing Pete is certain of is that he needs her in his arms when he goes to sleep.
They can't live like this forever. After years of building their professional lives, someone will have to leave everything behind to start their new life together. The only question is ... who?
Informazioni sul libro
The Way Home: Finding Home, #3
Di Rachel Caid
Lunghezza: 302 pagine7 ore
Descrizione
Emmaline Sanders is head over heels in love. She didn't expect to meet the man of her dreams while visiting her brother, but she won't dismiss the chance at her own happily ever after. There's just one problem - the thousand miles separating them. Phone calls and letters are enough for now, but eventually something will have to change. She wants to wake up to his face every morning.
Peter Johnston knows his love for Emmy is worth every plane trip and stolen weekend, no matter how hard it is. She is everything he's everything hoped for, even if they are in different time zones, for now. The one thing Pete is certain of is that he needs her in his arms when he goes to sleep.
They can't live like this forever. After years of building their professional lives, someone will have to leave everything behind to start their new life together. The only question is ... who?
- Editore:
- Rachel Caid
- Pubblicato:
- Sep 27, 2016
- ISBN:
- 9781537465340
- Formato:
- Libro
Informazioni sull'autore
Hi! I'm Rachel, and I am a lover of all books romance!
While my books are contemporary romances, my favorite genres are paranormal romance and suspense romance. Maybe one day I will have the courage to try those :)
I am a mother to two amazing boys, wife to my best friend, and herder of two dogs and three kitties. We live in rural Missouri and absolutely love being outdoors, tending to the acreage we built our home on.
I am also a complete coffee-addict, with no plans for rehab or any sort. So give me a good book, a pot of coffee and call me a happy girl
Correlati a The Way Home
Anteprima del libro
The Way Home - Rachel Caid
way
Chapter One
My head is foggy, and even though I’ve had less than six hours of sleep, my body is ready to go. I start to move, but something, or rather someone, is pinning me in place. I pry my lids open as my hand runs down the smooth, soft skin of her back. At first, all I see is blond hair spread across my chest. Memories of my sister Anna’s wedding reception last night flood my conscience.
So what are you going to do now that your sisters are well protected?
she asked, her smile bright but crooked from champagne. Damn, I wanted to kiss those perfect, pink lips.
What do you mean?
I asked, my self-control slipping as her tongue poked out for a split second. The woman was killing me.
Well, you’re an amazing brother, but Anna and Christine both have men to take care of them now.
Don’t let them hear you say that,
I said with a snort.
Oh, you know what I mean.
I did, too. Both of my sisters had a partner now, someone who had their back. They didn’t need me as their champion anymore.
I was just wondering if you’re going to look for a different type of girl to take care of in an entirely different way.
Her suggestive tone was dizzying and shocked the hell out of me.
Testing the waters, I placed my hand on her thigh, and she didn’t flinch. Instead, her eyes took in the sight of me touching her, and she smiled again. That fucking smile could make me do anything.
Do you have anyone in mind?
I could play this game. It’s been a few years since I’ve flirted like this, so I was rusty, but now that I’ve met someone amazing, it was time for me to put it out there.
Oh, I have lots of things in mind,
she said with a wink.
We stayed there for hours, me touching some part of her at all times, talking and drinking. Conversation flowed between us like we’d known each other our whole lives. I couldn’t remember the last time I had an intelligent conversation with a woman other than one of my sisters. The dates I’d been on didn’t provide me with that type of stimulation. Those women thought they knew me. They saw my plumbing business and worn jeans and their minds were made up. I played my role. I’d pretend to be their diamond in the rough long enough to fulfill their fantasy and get my release. It was easier that way. But tonight? This was a different kind of easy.
Not once did she act surprised by the variety of my interests. There was no judgment, no preconceived notions of who I am. It was just two people getting to know each other. Neither of us felt the need to hide our attraction, either, as the coy flirtation slipped away, and something deeper took its place. I’d fantasized about this woman for months; however, I was sober enough to keep that to myself. Within the lengthy conversation, I learned that she has had to work twice as hard as anyone else has in her father’s company to get where she is. I’m sure it’s tough to be taken seriously in her position, and I admired her tenacity.
One last slow song and I was done waiting. I stopped drinking an hour after my hand touched her leg because I didn’t need anything else to feel good after that—and I wasn’t sure I would be able to keep myself in check—so I was plenty sober by the time I led her to my truck.
I dipped down and captured her supple mouth. I’d waited all night to taste her, and now that we were alone and hidden away, I wouldn’t hesitate. A moan came from her slender throat, and I took advantage by sliding my tongue into her mouth. She was the sweetest thing I’d ever had, and I didn’t want to waste a drop. I wondered if she was just as sweet in other places. I damn sure planned to find out.
Thankfully, we made it to my house intact. I wasn’t drunk, but I was one-hundred percent distracted by the vision of the gorgeous blonde on my right. Her fingers grazed my thigh the whole trip here, and my dick was well aware of how close she came to touching him. I ached to feel her slim fingers wrap around me. And her mouth—holy fuck, I couldn’t stop imagining her lips around me too.
I led her inside and straight to my bedroom. There was no hesitation. No second-guessing.
The memory of her expression as I slid balls deep has me rock hard and ready for more. I roll us over, gently laying her on her back. Her blue eyes flutter open, confused by her surroundings for a moment. I use that to my advantage and suck her pert, rosebud-colored nipple into my mouth. The air whooshes out of her mouth in a breathy sigh as I squeeze her hip. The sound stokes the fire burning for her, driving me wild. I grab a condom, which is handily still in a messy pile on the bed, and roll it on.
I slip a hand between her thighs and feel her hot arousal dripping onto my finger. I guide myself to her entrance and pause. I want her approval before going any further. Last night, when she was tipsy, she wanted me, but in the light of a new day, she may regret it. Her hips tip to meet mine, and her heat surrounds the head of my dick. Fuck yeah, no regrets.
Inch by torturous inch, I take my time pressing into her. Our eyes connect, and the storm of desire building between us breaks my control. I withdraw slowly, and then slam my hips against her. I can’t go slowly if she’s looking at me with so much trust and need. It’s as if she’s starving, and I’m her own personal buffet.
We match each other’s thrusts with a passion I didn’t know existed as we push ourselves closer and closer to the brink. We fit together perfectly, as if made for one another. She pants and claws at my back.
The sharp sting across my skin encourages me to sustain my pace. Every sweet moan goes right to my dick. Her pussy squeezes me like a vise, and I know I won’t last much longer. I’m grateful her hair fans across the pillow, keeping my view of her passionate response unobstructed.
I watch in awe as her face becomes flush and her body shivers as her orgasm takes control. I attack her mouth with a new hunger, quickening my movements as my own release spills out. One final thrust and I empty myself inside her—the only place I want to be from now on.
Last night’s ravenous pace has morphed into one that’s sensual and languid. Having sated our animalistic desires, we can explore each other’s bodies slowly. When I lift my head to soak in the beautiful sight of the woman beneath me, her eyes flutter open once more and mesmerize me. Before I realize I’m moving, our mouths connect again. Her soft lips press against mine, sending a surge of pleasure and something else through my body.
We lay there, too tired to move. I tuck her under my arm, placing half her torso across my chest. It’s quiet, peaceful.
Pete,
she whispers as if she needs confirmation I’m real.
Yeah, gorgeous?
What’s the guy code about this?
she asks.
About what?
The whole ‘sister’ thing. Do I need to worry about my brother becoming some crazed, overprotective freak and challenging you to duel at dawn?
Emmy, I don’t really know,
I say, rolling off the bed to deal with the condom. But I’m gonna guess not.
You really think so?
It won’t be a problem. I’m not an asshole just trying to get in your pants. Besides, I already talked to Craig.
You did? When?
Emmy asks, as she knifes up from lounging in bed.
The sheet covering her body slips away, but her nakedness doesn’t faze her. She stares at me, and her mouth gapes wide.
A few weeks ago.
I blow out a breath. He and I didn’t know each other before he met Christine, so he had no reason to ask for my approval. But I know what it’s like to be on his side of the fence, so to speak, and wonder about the guys who want to date my sister. I didn’t want anything to tarnish what might happen between us.
I needed Craig aware of my growing feelings for Emmy. She’s the only woman I’ve had on my mind for months, hoping her shy smiles and awkwardness meant she was interested. Christine was there for our talk and let it slip that Emmy had been crushing on me for forever.
Even with that vote of confidence, I was still nervous. I can safely assume Christine was right—not that I’d say that out loud.
So he’s good with this? Because I have to tell you, this thing between us, it’s really good.
You’re damn right it is,
I growl, diving back onto the bed and claim her mouth.
I was tempted to join Emmy in the shower, but we needed to eat. One grumble from her stomach and here I am, cooking breakfast for us. Whipped already and I’m not even sorry.
This morning, I’ve thrown together spinach and mushroom omelets with some leftover sweet potatoes. Thankfully, I’ve gotten control of my refrigerator again. My kitchen went to shit while my sister Christine was living with me. The crap she eats is fucking ridiculous, so I made her take it all when she moved out.
Emmy walks in, fresh-faced and dressed in my shirt. She looks amazing in my clothes. When our eyes connect, my stomach jumps as if she’s punched me. A fuzzy heat spreads through my torso, and that’s definitely a feeling I want to experience over and over again.
The shy smile on her face is fucking adorable. I spent the entire night with her, and one glimpse of that sexy grin makes me want to forget the food and take her again. And again.
As if she can read my mind, Emmy walks up to me, plants a soft kiss on my chest, and looks up at me with innocent doe eyes. Hold that thought until later. I need fuel.
Thank God, one of us is thinking clearly. As much as I want to spend an entire day in bed with Emmy, I don’t like the possibility of her leaving and thinking that’s all I want from her.
That sounds like a plan. Since today is your last day in town, I’m not going to let you outta my sight until the very last minute. What time are you heading back home?
I ask, trying to sound nonchalant.
I requested the flight for this evening. I’ll need to get to the airstrip by six. I made sure to pack most of my stuff before the wedding, so that gives us until five thirty before we have to be at Craig’s. That is, if you’re not ready to get rid of me before then.
That only gives us eight hours, and I’m not going to piss it away.
I’m definitely not going to be ready to see you go then. Let’s eat. We can decide what to do for the rest of the day afterward.
One corner of her mouth tips up as she sits at the bar. I slide her plate in front of her and watch as her eyes light up at the sight.
This looks fantastic. I’m impressed. I don’t know why I’m surprised, though. You don’t get to look, well, how you look, by living on takeout.
No,
—I chuckle—I guess I don’t. I’ve been cooking since I was a kid. My mom insisted all of her children learn. She used to say, ‘Cooking for someone is one of the simplest ways to show you care. If you can do nothing else, you can do that.’ I think she also wanted to make sure we could fend for ourselves after we left the nest, ya know?
I think your mom is a genius. My mother tried to teach me to cook, but I never quite caught on. I was too distracted, to be honest. I spent my time following my father around instead, soaking up everything he could teach me. In hindsight, I should have learned both. I get by, but I can’t make anything this good.
Emmy scoops another forkful into her mouth, humming with pleasure as her lips capture the food. I need to cook for her more often if she’s going to reward me with sounds like that.
Do you want action or relaxation today? I’ve got ideas for both.
Don’t I get to know my options before I decide? Our ideas of relaxing may not be the same,
Emmy says with a smirk.
Don’t you trust me?
I ask, my tone more serious than I intended.
Her expression switches from playful to sincere in a heartbeat before she says, Absolutely,
with conviction.
For some reason, her answer, spoken with a raw honesty that is rare, sets me on fire. I lean across the bar, slipping one hand behind her head, and press a firm kiss to her perfect, soft lips.
Then choose one and go with it.
I really want to relax before I head back to Springfield,
she says in a whisper.
Then that’s exactly what we’ll do.
Chapter Two
Warm, soft grass tickles my toes as we sit on the bank of the lazy, glittering river. Pete is considerate enough to bait my hook for me, so I decide to keep my history of fishing tournament awards to myself, for now. I don’t mind admitting that it feels nice to be pampered and taken care of, especially by this fine specimen.
Thank goodness for the clothes Christine had left at Pete’s house because fishing in formalwear would not have been fun. The jeans are a little snug, but Pete’s enormous tee shirt is loose and covers me to mid-thigh, hiding the slight bulge above the waistband. Even though Pete has seen me in nothing, I want his memory of me as perfect as I can make it, and muffin top is not perfect.
Pete flashes me a smile as he hands me my pole. We cast in silence, and I take a moment to appreciate the beauty surrounding us. The air is still pleasant, but the subtle changes in color sprinkled throughout the leaves prove that the days of fishing on a riverbank are dwindling for the year.
I love fall, I do. It’s the time for cooler weather, sipping hot cider on a porch swing, and bundling up for bonfires. It’s all wonderful, but it can be depressing. Everything you’ve worked so hard to nurture and cultivate becomes less vibrant with each passing day. Eventually, the plants will wither—some to rest and some to die. It’s these last few weeks that allow the trees to show the world how beautiful and awe-inspiring they can be before they become cold and seemingly lifeless.
A sharp tug snaps me out of my daydreaming. I look at Pete in surprise. He shoots me a blazing smile that reminds me now is not the time to mourn endings; it’s a time to celebrate new beginnings. I give a quick tug on the rod, and Pete jumps up to help me reel in whatever I’ve caught. The fish puts up a good fight, but within minutes, I have my prize dangling in front of us. I burst into a fit of giggles as I show Pete the tiny shellcracker I’ve caught. The poor thing can’t be much bigger than the worm that baited it. He grabs the fish and frees it from the hook.
You know, this doesn’t seem like it’s your first time handling a big rod,
Pete says with a wink.
An uncontrollable heat spreads from my chest clear up to my ears as his double entendre sinks in. My attraction to Pete has never been a secret. His sisters knew about it almost immediately. I mean, sheesh. The first night I met him, I wanted to let him spin me around Fritz’s dance floor until the sun came up. If it hadn’t been for my sisterly devotion—which was punished with a totally inappropriate showing of flesh in a parking lot, thank you very much—I would have. And, seriously, after last night, I’m pretty sure there’s no reason to blush.
But this is so new, and it’s not as if I have a ton of experience. The last date I went on was as a favor to my father at a business function six months ago, and the last time I had actual non-battery-powered sex before last night? Yeah, not going there.
To hide the flush in my cheeks, I slightly tuck my chin to my chest and close my eyes before grabbing the Styrofoam box of worms. Pete has no idea how deeply he affects me, and I’d still like to keep it to myself. Unfortunately, I’m not good at shielding my emotions without preparation.
Last night, I was prepared, if not a little emboldened by a drink or two.
Still flustered over Pete’s rod
comment, I nearly knock the worms to the ground before he comes to my rescue. He doesn’t say anything as he baits my hook once again, but his soft, affectionate expression eases my nerves.
Thanks,
I whisper, embarrassed by my reaction.
It’s no problem, Em. You okay?
he asks.
Lordy, he’s so freaking sweet to me. Here I am, bumbling like a schoolgirl with a crush, and he’s making sure I’m all right.
I’m fine, you goof. I just thought you knew all about my rod-handling skills.
Oh, gosh. Did I seriously just say that? It’s okay; I can do sexy flirtations. I’m a woman for crying out loud—we invented that stuff.
I might need a reminder, you know.
I fling my hand out to swat his chest, but he grabs it and pulls me close. The pole drops to the ground as I steady myself on his insanely well-defined bicep. I’m sure Pete can hear the wild knocking of my heart against my ribcage. He dips his head to brush his lips against mine, and a warm blossom of happiness spreads through my body.
There’s no electric shock from his touch like what his sisters Anna and Christine describe with their men. Instead, my skins tingles and butterflies stir in my stomach. It’s soothing and fulfilling in ways a zing
just isn’t. My mind just goes blank when he presses his lips to mine.
The connection I feel to Pete right now is something I have longed for my entire life. The odd mixture of gentleness and possessiveness flowing from him is intoxicating. It’s as if I’m a precious jewel he wants to hide away to protect and shelter yet still show to the world.
His hands cover my lower back as he presses our bodies together, deepening the kiss. Blood rushes past my ears, and those darn butterflies kick into high gear. Every kiss from Pete is like a dizzying first kiss. I snake my arms around his neck, threading my fingers through his hair. I can’t think of a better way to spend my last day in South Carolina.
My last day.
The thought hits me like a bucket of ice water, and I pull back to lock eyes with him. He tilts his head in question but waits for me to speak.
I have to leave,
I say. Just call me Captain Obvious.
Right now?
Pete asks in confusion, making me laugh.
No, silly. I mean I have to leave tonight, but I don’t want to. I have to wake up tomorrow and not be in Franklin.
A cold weight sinks in my stomach as the words leave my mouth. Is this thing between Pete and me strong enough to be long distant? We won’t even get twenty-four hours before nine hundred miles force us apart. Why can’t this be easy? What will he do when I’m gone?
I can’t do casual, Pete, it’s not in me. What I did last night, jumping into bed with you, that’s not me. I know that it’s going to be awful being separated more than we’re together, so if you want to rethink your involvement with me, I understand.
I don’t understand, not really. But what can I do? I’m not going to pressure him into something he doesn’t want.
Pete leans in and presses his lips to mine, effectively shutting me up.
"Emmaline, stop. It’s not as if I picked you up at some bar and had a night—and morning—of amazing sex. We’ve known each other for months; we’re together every time you visit your brother, even if it’s never been one on one. I gotta admit, though, that I’ve wanted that kind of time with you from the moment I first saw you. When you walked into Fritz’s bar with Craig, I nearly lost my mind. First, I was upset because I knew seein’ Craig with another woman would hurt my sister. But Christine had made that bed, so I was staying out of it.
Second, I wanted to my sister to get her head outta her ass and claim him so I could steal you away without feeling guilty or looking like an asshole. When I found out you were his sister? I’d never been more grateful. I had a lot to deal with before I felt like I was in a place where I had something to offer you, but I always planned to pursue what was between us.
I’m not sure what something to offer me
means. Pete is fantastic; a loving brother, a devoted uncle, a loyal friend—what doesn’t he have to offer? Before I can voice my thoughts, he continues.
"And nothing about last night was casual for me. Will it be difficult for me not to see you every day? Yeah, that’s gonna suck. But it’s not a new thing for us. The only difference will be we know what we’re missing instead of wondering. And, Em, you know as well as I do that it’ll be worth the effort. I’m more than willing to do what it takes to build a relationship with you."
"So if I said I didn’t want you to date anyone else while we’re apart, you’d be okay with that? We’re talking weeks between visits. I know I can convince the board to open
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