Raspberry Crush by Jill Winters

his voice that took her back—reminding her of the intimate way he used to speak to her. Holding her by the ocean, whispering in her ear about the future, sliding his hand gently over her breast, groaning, and whispering, "This is mine." In return, she'd run her hand between his legs, a little less gently, feeling the worn denim and the swollen bulge in the front, and say, " This is mine." And he would bury his face in her hair and murmur, "You're right."
    "Billy?" he said again, and she snapped into the present. That was good, because reveries were silly; every relationship was passionate and full of possibilities after only a few months. Suddenly she realized that Seth was trying to pull back from the hug... and that she was still clinging to him... and with abandon.
    She all but jumped, dropping her arms and stepping back to put some much-needed space between them. Inhaling sharply, she tried to clear the fog from her mind as her heart sped and her cheeks burned with embarrassment.
    Seth was flushed, too. Dropping his gaze to the floor, he plowed his hand through his soft blond hair—a nervous habit, if she recalled—and then flashed her a brief smile. "I should really get going," he said, in a low, almost husky voice.
    "Right, okay..." she agreed, backing up even more. "Um, it was great seeing you again and catching up... take care of yourself and—Oh!" She yelped as something rubbed up against her back. Turning, she saw that she'd stepped back too much—right into a plant. "Hmm, I didn't notice that there... anyway..."
    "Well, I guess I'll be seeing you," Seth said with a brief nod.
    He moved past her out of the bakery, and only after he was gone did Billy release the heavy sigh that filled her chest. What a day! There never seemed to be a way to prepare for the sporadic, non-dull moments in life that surprised her. But it's probably better that way, she thought happily as she pressed a hand to her heart, savored the zing of Seth's hug, and ignored the taunting leaves that prickled against her shoulder blades.

 
     
     
    Chapter 5
     
    When Billy got to the Rack, it was vibrating with loud, pulsing music and the clatter of Wednesday's happy hour. She didn't see her sister anywhere, so she pushed and shimmied her way through the throngs of people, apologizing to the air as she went, and finally made it to the bar.
    Shrugging off her coat, Billy tugged lightly on her sweater to fan herself off, because the run across town was just catching up with her. Mid-fanning, she accidentally caught the eye of a skeevy-looking meathead in a flesh-colored, mesh muscle T. Eww. Predatory and desperate—she was just so flattered.
    As his eyes roved over her body, Billy turned her head and mentally willed him not to approach. The last thing she wanted was to be hit on. Not that it happened everyday, but really, why start new traditions? Especially when she was determined to focus all her romantic energy on Mark. It was the least she could do after she'd gotten embarrassingly hot and bothered over her ex-boyfriend that afternoon.
    And speaking of Mark, she hoped she got to see him before the weekend, because the Dessert Jubilee in Churchill was going to take up her whole Saturday.
    The jubilee... That got her thinking about Seth again...
    God, it had been so invigorating just to hold him again. Warmth washed over her body and pooled with urgency between her legs as she remembered. What was up with her? Why couldn't she get Seth out of her mind? Why couldn't she stop picturing him naked?
    Why couldn't she stop fantasizing about lying under him and feeling his big, swollen erection push into her?
    Because I'm sick, she reasoned. I'm repressed, horny, and sick.
    Or maybe she was just fixating on sex because it had been a while. Maybe it was time to step up her physical repertoire with Mark. So far they'd kissed and touched, but, as her fantasies crept back into her mind, Billy bit her lip, sucked in a shaky breath, and knew she needed