Oh shit, you’re staring.
Lew turned around and stirred the pot.
Oops, staring again.
But seriously, his ass was so fucking good.
“Tell me what I can do to help, okay?” Lewis threw me a glance.
“We need forks, spoons, and a bottle opener in the living room. Grab those?” he suggested. “I think it’s better if we eat in there. I want you to stay warm.”
“Okay.” I went to work.
He joined me in the living room a few minutes later, carrying two steaming bowls of soup in his hands. He set them down onthe coffee table, got the other bag he’d brought, and sat next to me.
“Oh God, Lewis,” I groaned when I’d taken the first bite of the spicy dish. “It’s delicious!”
His ears twitched and I was so sure he’d have blushed if he could. “I’m glad you like it. I wasn’t sure what you favour, but I wanted to surprise you.” For the second time, flustered Lewis took my breath away.
“Sorry I didn’t come to see you at all this week,” he said after a heavy silence.
“Don’t be. You have your life, and you’re busy.” I shrugged.
“I’m still sorry.” His gentle voice caressed my insides. “It was so wild.” As he launched into a recollection of his week, I spooned more soup into my mouth and enjoyed the warmth spreading through me. Only it didn’t just come from the food but from who I got to share this moment with.
“Tell me more about the workshops.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, really. It was Perla’s idea.”
“Come on, stop with the false modesty.” I nudged his elbow. “It’s a great idea, but it wasonlyan idea.Youare the one making it a reality.”
“I suppose.” He smiled into his bowl as he emptied it out before setting it back on the coffee table. “We’re going to have twelve people at the distillery for a weekend,” he explained. “They’ll get a crash course in brewing, taste our beers, enjoy great food, and just have fun.”
I put my bowl next to his, yawned and then rested my cheek on his arm. “Sounds great.”
Lew hummed. He slid his arm around my shoulders again and hitched a thumb under my chin to tilt my face up for a kiss.
A thick layer of snow covered everything outside the cottage by the time we unglued our lips and staggered into the bathroom to brush our teeth before bed. We stood next to each other, and ourarms bumped occasionally in the small space. Once or twice Lew caught my eye in the mirror and smiled.
This domestic intimacy was even more intense than kissing him.
“Alright, time for bed,” I announced after he’d put more logs on the grate.
Lew cocked a heavy eyebrow at me.
“What? You can’t sleep out here.”
“There’s a fireplace,” he explained to me like I was five, but he softened the tease with a wink.
“D’oh. There’s a fire as long asyouare awake. It will have died down by four in the morning, unless you keep getting up to add logs.” I explained in a patient tone but let the snark shine through. “So, Lew, you can pretend getting up every few hours to feed it or succumbing to hypothermia is manly or you can get your ass in the bed with me. You need sleep.” My words wore down his last bit of resistance and his shoulders dropped. He heaved a deep sigh of submission.
“The bed is big enough for both of us, okay?”
He held my gaze for a long moment, then seemed to realise that it was pointless to argue with me. With a shrug he walked past me into the bedroom. I grabbed the blankets off the couch, ignoring Mr Pickles’ indignant meow, and spread them on top of the duvet.
“Okay,” I trilled “Blankie fort it is.”
I turned off the light and joined him under the covers, shivering with cold. The bedframe creaked when he lowered himself onto the mattress.
