She was a kid when she went after Ty. Young and wanting more out of life then she thought she could get on her own. “I didn’t want you to have anything to do with them. But you had to.”
Becca continued to study him, her brows furrowed and lips turned down. “I thought
maybe they’d changed, that they could help.”
“Even though they never changed for your father?”
God, why did they have to talk about the Yearwoods? Let it go. Let the damned past and her mistakes go. She’s paid for them as much as anyone. Maybe they could. With her standing so close, nothing was more compelling than the scent of her perfume, the way her eyes glowed or her lip s parted just slightly.
Becca shrugged. “I was wrong. You were right. As always.”
Before she could say more, Josh reached out for her, pulled her to him and dipped his
mouth so it captured hers. For a second she struggled against his embrace, but slowly she melted into it, her own arms sliding up and around his neck.
Yes, this was how he remembered her. Sweet, giving, passionate. But there was so much
more. She wasn’t the innocent girl she used to be, the one who was growing and exploring along with him. There was skill behind her kiss. A spark of jealousy flared then faded quickly. He had no right to be resentful of any of the men she’d kissed, of the love life
she’d led, after leaving town. Maybe someday he’d be sad that he hadn’t been the one she had learned with, but for now the fire she was stoking inside his head and veins overtook any kind of logical thinking.
Impatiently, she shoved off his blazer, then pulled at his shirt until she dragged it loose.
In turn, he found the zipper at the back of her dress and lowered it, brushing his fingers against her soft skin as he went.
“Josh,” Becca whispered, her lips moving against his neck. “Why are we doing this?”
Why? Because he wanted her more than he wanted anyone in this whole world.
“We want to.”
“But you hate me.”
She didn’t stop touching him, taunting him as she made this claim.
Josh nuzzled his mouth into the crook of her neck then kissed his way to her ear.
“I don’t hate you.”
And he didn’t. He might have at the beginning, when she first arrived at Willow
Haven. Or it might have been the hurt became new again, like ripping open an old wound. That had changed over the past few weeks. The wounds were healing over again.