Page 33 of Light of Day (Sea Smoke Island #1)

Luke was already in bed when he heard the tapping on his front door. Sleep felt far away—the tension of the past few hours still coiled in his body. He’d cleaned his kitchen as much as he could, double-checked his smoke detector, left several lights on to discourage a repeat arsonist visit.

Up until lately, the constable job had been mostly calm, maybe even boring at times. Plenty of time for fishing off the dock.

Not anymore.

When he opened his door to find Heather on the porch, he was glad he hadn’t grabbed his firearm, which had been his first impulse. Without overthinking it, he tugged her inside and into his arms. “I was hoping you’d come.”

“Yes, but it’s just to?—”

He stopped her with a searing kiss. So much adrenaline was still pumping through his system, and the touch of her lips was the first thing he’d been able to focus on since he’d gotten home.

He poured all that energy into the kiss, saying without words what was on his mind— there’s something real here, I want you, let me kiss you, let me take you to bed.

Her mouth opened under his, just as greedy and needy as he was.

Heat flared between them, wild and intense, and a moment later her hands were running up and down his bare back.

He’d been naked in bed, and only pulled on a pair of boxers before coming to the door.

They were no match for the fierce erection that surged behind the thin fabric.

Or for Heather’s thigh rubbing against him.

He groaned deep in his throat and spun her around, backing her toward his bedroom.

But they didn’t even make it that far. The wall was closer, that spot just past the pegboard that held the coats, perfectly situated so he could pin her up against it and press himself against her body.

She was gasping now, clawing at his back, reaching for his erection, touching him, kissing his neck, biting his shoulder. God. Damn.

His mind went blank except for want and need.

Under her open jacket, he pushed up her shirt, vaguely realizing that she’d changed into a tank top with spaghetti straps, the kind that didn’t require a bra.

Her bare breasts spilled forth, luminous in the dark.

He gathered them in his hands and dipped his head to feast on the swelling nipples.

She moaned out loud and tilted her head back against the wall.

While he kept licking and sucking those beautiful breasts, he unzipped her jeans and plunged a hand between her legs.

Hot and wet and maddening…juicy and slippery against his fingers, until he found that hard nub that made her cry out with pleasure.

Only after she’d come hard against his hand did he lift her up and wrap her legs around his hips. He swung her around and headed for the bedroom. “As much as I’d love to fuck you up against that wall, we’re gonna need a condom.”

“Mmmm,” she hummed against his neck. Her heart was still beating fast against his chest, and her warm breath tickled his skin. Fiery energy coursed through his veins. He could have carried her a mile, two miles; he felt like Superman.

He set her on the edge of the bed and went to grab a condom from his dresser.

When he turned around again, fully sheathed, she was in the midst of stripping off the rest of her clothes, pushing her jeans down to her feet, where they snagged on her ankle boots.

He bent over to help her get them off, then tugged her jeans after them.

His reward was a feast for the eyes—a fully naked, golden-freckled Heather scooting back on the bed to make room for him.

The hot invitation in her eyes, in the way she beckoned to him, the way she teased him with a sway of her ass, an arch of her back…

in a flash, he stripped off his boxers and pounced on the bed.

Pinned her to it, nibbled at the arch of her throat when she threw her head back.

He loved how she abandoned herself to the pleasure.

Watching her gasp at every lick of his tongue on her skin was a wild turn-on.

Not that he needed any more turn-ons. His cock was tight to bursting.

He felt between her thighs, making sure she was still ready.

“Do it,” she urged in a voice deepened with desire, thick and sweet as molasses. “Come inside. I want you. I want to feel you.”

He found her entrance and nudged his erection against her, testing her wetness.

“It’s fine ,” she said through clenched teeth.

He paused, just teasing her now. “I’m a big believer in consent.”

“You damn well better be, because obviously. Are you also a believer in driving a woman up a wall?”

Her tart tone made him laugh. That was the piece of being with Heather that he adored, that he’d never found with anyone else. That honesty, that directness, that sense of fun—it went right to his pleasure centers and unlocked something inside him.

“I’m a believer in anything that makes you come hard,” he growled as he pinned her spread thighs to the bed.

He plunged inside her and pleasure uncoiled from the base of his spine and swamped his brain.

They moved together in hot, awkward collisions—her nose bumped against his shoulder, his hipbone clashed against hers. What were they, teenagers?

Soon they found their rhythm and stopped banging into each other—and rocked and ground and urged each other on until he felt the flutter of her inner muscles, and that was too much, that was his trigger.

He erupted into a long, groaning climax that turned him upside down and emptied him down to the bone.

Like shipwrecked sailors, they lay panting on his bed, entangled with pillows in place of seaweed. The release from the stress of the day felt profound, every one of his muscles relaxed.

“Blessed be,” he murmured, making her giggle.

She snuggled against him and he felt deep sleep closing in. “Gotta get this condom off,” he mumbled. He barely had time to wrap it in a tissue and toss it in the wastebasket before he dropped into the healing, soothing darkness.

He woke up with a start when the first light of day shone through his window shades. Heather was coming out of the bathroom, a blanket wrapped around her.

“I should get back to my mom,” she said, when she saw he was awake. “I told her I wouldn’t be gone for long. I didn’t expect—” She gestured toward the bed. “I didn’t expect to fall asleep.”

“After having mind-blowing sex,” he suggested, as he dragged himself to a sitting position.

“Right. Now that you mention it.” She bent to gather up her clothes, which were scattered across his floor. Debris from the shipwreck. “I came to tell you something, but you chased it right out of my brain with that fine penis of yours.”

He let loose a deep belly laugh. Heather’s irreverence got him every single time. “What is it? You shouldn’t leave until you tell me, otherwise it was a wasted trip.”

“I definitely wouldn’t call it that.” She checked the time on her phone, then sat on the edge of the bed, her clothes bundled in her hands.

“Okay, just a few more minutes, just until I’m dressed.

There’s this dream I’ve had my whole life, and I finally put together what it is.

It’s based on stories passed down from Hennessy McPhee, through Hector, my great-grandfather.

And I think I figured out what it’s all about.

Hennessy McPhee helped ‘diagnose’—put in your own scare quotes—some of the folks who lived here so they’d be sent to the School for the Feeble-Minded.

The ones who were left, I think they were forced to move their houses off the island.

My dream is about being in a house that’s moving toward the ocean.

Remember Jimmy said his great-uncle was rambling about floating houses?

Maybe that’s what he was talking about.”

That rang a tiny bell in the back of his mind.

“There’s an old photo in my father’s library of a house floating on a big raft made of wooden logs.

I asked him about it, and he said it was from an island off Harpswell.

He said in some areas, when the fishing stocks dropped, people would just move their houses somewhere else. ”

“Do you believe him?”

“Well, yeah. I had no reason not to believe him.”

“Maybe the same thing happened here. There’s another thing. Your ancestor, the first John Carmichael, is the one who hired Hennessy McPhee to come out here!”

“Oh shit.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I guess we know why.”

“Exactly. The Carmichaels wanted to build the hotel here, and they didn’t want any riff-raff hanging around to spoil the ambiance.

All those scare articles about how rowdy and incestuous the outer islands were, the ones in Gabby’s thumb drive, I bet they were just drumming up public outrage so people like your ancestor could develop the islands. Money rules, right?”

Heather stood up and slipped her panties over her hips. He watched with regret as her intimate parts disappeared from view. She pulled on her jeans, wriggling a bit to get the tight denim onto her body.

“Sounds like speculation.” He preferred to deal in solid facts and evidence.

“You think so? The same thing happens today. Disinformation, misinformation…people have been doing this shit forever. And apparently your family,” she jabbed a finger toward him, “did it to mine.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My mom told me that Grandpa Hector used to warn her about the Carmichaels because they were responsible for ruining Hennessy’s reputation and driving him to drink.

Which in turn drove Hector to drink, and then Arthur, my grandfather, and my mom too, which drove her to hook up with my dad, who also drinks, and just generally ruined the McPhee family all down the line. ”

The resentment in her voice confused him. “I’m sorry, are you blaming me for all that?”

“You? No.” She put on one boot and zipped it up. “Of course not. Your family did benefit, though. They got their hotel, then smeared the name of the man who knew what they’d done to make that happen.”

“Aren’t you getting ahead of the facts here?”

She tied her other shoe, and jumped to her feet.

“You think the Carmichaels just happened to stumble across a beautiful uninhabited island perfect for building a resort? Or maybe they peacefully worked out something with the people who lived here, offered them jobs, treated them with respect, shared resources equally…you know, like they do now?”

“Heather, Jesus, why are you angry at me?”

“I’m not,” she cried, still sounding angry.

“I just…I know it’s not your fault. It’s not my fault either, what Hennessy did…

if he did it. But I know he did, because…

” She plopped back onto the bed and dropped her head into her hands.

“I had another dream last night. It felt so real, like I was there. It was horrible. Terrible things happened on this island, and my family was part of it, and I don’t… I don’t know what to do with that.”

He scooted closer to her and tentatively touched her shoulder. Although she didn’t pull away, he felt her tension through the jacket she’d pulled on over her tank top. “Tell me the dream.”