His jaw dropped. “A tree? Have you been comparing my—” he gestured vaguely at his midsection, “—to atree?” When she gave a chagrined nod, he hooted with amusement. “I’m not sure if I should be offended by the comparison.”
Sadie pushed up on her elbows and dragged her eyes over him from head to toe. “You should be flattered.”
The levity fled from his expression. “Then I will be.” He stretched his body out over hers but held himself above; she arched up to reach him, but he pulled back further. “No rushing, Sadie. I’ve waited far too long to have you like this, and I’ll be damned if I rush it.”
Her breath caught. “You’ve been waiting?” She struggled to believe it. “For how long?”
“Since I saw you a year ago, at the protest by the bridge.” He dragged a thumb across her temple and chased it with his lips. “I nearly fell in the river when I saw you.”
“But you never said anything.”
He chuckled. “You were always the wonder with words, not me.”
His kiss seared her, branded her as his.
No, that wasn’t right. What was happening between them in this storm, in the drafty firehouse, made himhersas much as she was his. They belonged to each other, shared something so inimitable and indescribable that no one else on earth could claim it.
His lips were gone far too soon, traveling the now-familiar route down her neck and along her collarbone. He lay his body over hers, careful to keep his hips from where she desperately sought friction, and she moaned in frustration.
“Garrett, I’m ready, please—”
“You’re not,” he said, taking advantage of his new position to lift and caress one breast, then pinched her nipple.
A shot of fire raced down to her core. “I am.”
“Fine, then I’m not.” He pulled the tight bud of her nipple into his mouth and sucked, then flicked it with his tongue, releasing her with a pop. “I told you I was going to savor you, so I can never forget this.”
Funny, until that moment she’d never considered this might only happen once. In her mind, she’d already been thinking ahead to when the ice and snow cleared, when they would emerge disheveled and deliriously happy to start their lives together.
She was prone to overthinking, and in fact regarded it a strength of hers. The practice was far superior to underthinking, which could leave her with a broken heart if she wasn’t careful. Because the phrasenever forget thisimplied it might never happen again. That when the bubble of the storm broke, the magic, along with their pseudo-relationship, would be broken as well.
And she didn’t think she could bear it.
Her worries blurred and evaporated when he continued down her torso, kissing along the flesh of her belly. He moaned as he gripped her hips, a space she’d always asked the dressmaker to hide before giving up and purchasing trousers designed for a much larger man and having them tailored. “Christ, I love this part of you.” He slid his hands around until he held the cheeks of her backside. “And this, Sadie,this. Your peach of a bottom has haunted my dreams.”
She huffed. “You must be joking. My mother always told me it was disproportionate.”
He squeezed her cheeks and groaned low in his chest. “Disproportionate to what?”
“My breasts. Women with large bottoms should have breasts to match, which I surely don’t.”
He sat up with a glare and cupped his hands over said breasts, obscuring them beneath his palms. “Don’t you dare speak ill of these. They’re perfection. The sweetest little… apricots.”
“Why the stone fruit metaphors?”
He kissed the swell of each breast. “I’m hungry.”
“Do you need more scones?”
He growled against her navel. “Focus, Sadie.”
“It’s difficult when I’m nervous.”
Garrett froze and rolled off her, rising to cup her cheek. “Am I rushing you? Did I do something—”
“What happens after this?” Apparently they would have this conversation now after all, Jane Austen be damned. “When the storm clears, will we be…”
He bit his lower lip as his eyes searched hers. “What do you want to be?”
