She shrieked and jumped back as the pile of firewood tumbled to the floor. Garrett gripped her upper arms and tugged her aside. “Christ, Sadie, you almost killed me!”
As she stared at him, she was dimly aware of the racing of her heart, the sawing of her breath when she brought her hand to his neck. His skin was cold to the touch as he searched her face.
“Sweetness, what’s wrong?” His hazel eyes narrowed. “Did something happen?”
Nothing at all, except I might be falling in love with you. “N-no. I didn’t know where you were, and—”
“Sadie.” His voice was low, velvety and soothing. “Did you think I’d left?”
She pulled away, stumbling over a dropped log. “No, and I wasn’t worried or anything.”
He smirked, and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to hit him or strip off his clothes. Perhaps one, then the other.
“Youwereworried.”
“No, of course not.” She forced a laugh that was shrill in her ears. “I was wondering where you’d gone.”
He pointed to the logs now scattered on the floor. “To get firewood. I thought you’d be cold. I made it as far as the woodpile without breaking a major limb, but I don’t think I can get far enough to get you anything to eat.”
Oh, to have someone worry about her. To have a man who would put himself at risk to provide for her.
What must it feel like to know you are worthy of such care?
His brows furrowed. “I think your blouse is backwards.”
Damn. She felt the walls rising around her again. “I think your trousers are still torn.”
That infernal smirk again. She wanted to kiss it off his face.
“If they bother you so much, perhaps I should take them off.”
She shrugged, hoping he didn’t notice the flush that must be racing up her neck to her cheeks. She could keep things light between them, maintain some distance to protect herself from inevitable disappointment. “That sounds responsible. Is my shirt bothering you?”
He nodded, and a lock of damp hair fell over his forehead. “Quite a bit. It would be bad for my sense of wellbeing if you kept it on.”
“Well, we’re both reasonable adults. Removing our clothing seems to be the reasonable thing to do.”
Oh, that wicked smile of his was dangerous. If she wasn’t careful…
Ha. She was already lost to him, and denying what they both wanted wouldn’t protect her from the hurt she knew would follow when the sky cleared. After all, the snow wouldn’t keep him trapped with her forever.
She tugged the shirt off and tossed it aside, followed by her stockings. A moment for misgiving, a beat for bravery. Then she grabbed the hem of her chemise and pulled it over her head. Holding eye contact, she threw it at his chest. “I am rather cold. Perhaps I’ll go back to bed.”
Chapter 9
Garrettcollapsed,hischeeklanding on the soft swell of her belly. One last shudder ran through Sadie, and she hummed her pleasure as she stroked her fingers through his hair.
They’d tumbled into bed and he’d brought her to climax twice in a row, once quickly with unyielding attention on her clitoris from his tongue, then slowly, with long licks and sucks accompanied by the thrust of his fingers until she begged for release and screamed his name, clutching his head to her core. He was addicted to the taste of her now and already craved her again. As soon as he turned back between her thighs, she cupped her hand over her mound.
“Don’t you dare,” she rasped. “I may die if you touch me again.”
He chuckled and kissed the hand protecting her from his attention. A risky move—his earlier kiss had sent her running, so he’d been careful to keep his mouth occupied with a different part of her anatomy.
Was she frightened of her breath in the morning? Or was ithisbreath that ran her off? He cupped his hand over his mouth and exhaled, but all he could smell was her arousal.
He wanted to kiss her soft cheeks and neck, take those taut nipples into his mouth and see if they were as sensitive as the rest of her intimate flesh. But more than that, he wanted—needed—her to stay open to him. To know if what was happening between them inside the firehouse could be sustained once the ice melted.
He’d watched her eyes shutter, her chin lift, when he asked if she had worried about his leaving. She had crawled back into her shell, like she did every time she showed the slightest sign of vulnerability. But she had to know he was safe, that he would cherish her openness as the gift it was, hold it close and protect her heart. She could accept that from him, or she might run away. Either way, he had to know.
