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“You’re not joking…? I mean, I know you date a LOT of women.” I regret the words the moment they’re out of my mouth. He winces and glances away. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right. I just mean, I’m the one who sends them gifts and flowers and—” Releasing a breath, I pause when it’s clear my big mouth is digging me deeper into a hole, and zip my lips shut.
After a moment, Cam says, “I’m not joking. I’ve enjoyed every second of being with you, and if I cared about any of those women, I’d have bought them something myself. Something from the heart.”
There’s a tense moment while I digest that, then Cam stands up and takes my empty bowl.
“Brace yourself,” he says before he wedges open the door a crack and scoops snow into a large basin.
The basin sizzles when he places it atop the still-warm woodstove, and we watch the snow quickly melt. Before it gets too hot, Cam washes our dishes. “There’s no sink or shower, but we can use the other basin to wash ourselves.”
He might assume my bewildered expression is due to his comment about bathing from a washbasin. It’s not.
“I’ve never seen this side of you before. Cameron Steele, handwashing the bowl I ate from in a metal tub over a woodstove. There’s something rustic and manly about that. Survivorish.” The moment the words are out of my mouth, I blush crimson.
Cam stops midwipe and the corner of his mouth turns up in a sexy half-grin. “Izzy Miller, are you flirting with me?”
Our eyes lock. Cam’s gaze is intense and…heated. My whole body stiffens, and I almost choke on my own saliva.
He chuckles and sets the bowls upside down on a rag. As he moves, my eyes are drawn to the muscles under his T-shirt. Broad chest. Corded biceps. I know the man works out but, damn.
I should stop staring. I should back up a step. We’re very close. How did we get so close?
When he takes my hand, my brain tells me I should yank it away, but I can’t seem to manage that. His touch is magnetic, and I like it way more than I should.
“Whew,” I say. “That little stove really heats up the place, doesn’t it?”
“It does, but I’m not sure it’s the stove that’s having such an incendiary effect.”
I swallow hard and a smile breaks out across his handsome face. Wow. That smile turns my insides to mush. Rarely have I seen Cameron Steele smile. Never have I seen him direct a full-on smile at me. It’s disarming. My heart clangs around in my chest.
Something’s shifted between us, but I’m not sure what. The air is supercharged.
Flames dance in his eyes. Literally, I can see the reflection from the fireplace. I’m not sure what’s happening, but I don’t want it to stop.
He looks as though he wants to kiss me.
Yes, yes, do it. I want that too.
When he slides an arm around my waist and pulls me to his chest, my knees weaken and my thighs clench together.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he says. Maybe it’s a question. Or a statement. But it sounds more like a warning.
The next second, his lips are on mine.
An inferno shoots through me from my mouth to my toes then back up to set my girly parts aflame. The kiss is slow at first. Just a brush of his lips over mine. Surprisingly tender. But even in the softness, the energy between us dances like electricity through a livewire.
Within seconds, our passion is all-consuming. He slides his fingers into my hair, and when he growls “Izzy” against my lips, I moan involuntarily.
His kiss is devouring. Ravenous. He tastes like sin and promises of ecstasy.
Cam’s impressive erection digs into my stomach—long, thick, and hard.
Mr. Steele is hung. I knew he would be.
I’m dizzy, delirious. When I pull away gasping for air, I announce aloud what we both already know.
“We’re going to have to share a bed.”
Chapter8
