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“Sunshine,” Nick argues. “You were.”
I relent with a sigh. “I wasn’t pouting. I was just hoping that the bed upstairs is going to be as nice as the one I’ve been sleeping in, because it’s like sleeping on a cloud and I like it. A lot.” My cheeks are starting to burn again. “I like it a lot.”
His voice is pitched low and deliciously dark when he rumbles, “You’ll like the bed upstairs.”
With no further ado, he tugs me up the wide wood staircase into the loft above. I’ve caught glimpses of the living space up here from below, but actually standing up here is amazing. Everything is so beautiful, the roof arched high, the windows bright and big and open to a clear, starry night. There’s another wood stove in the corner of the living space, a big u-shaped sectional in cream with a chunky wood coffee table centered over a massive, burnished brown, patterned area rug. The walls up here have exposed timber beams, like the mountain trees outside have invaded in sharp angles, cutting through sheets of drywall. A masculine black iron chandelier hangs from the peak, but it’s currently unlit, and the only light to spill into the space is that from the bright moon and stars that reflect against glittering white snow.
“Wow.” The word is barely a breath as it escapes from between my lips. More firmly, but still breathless, I add, “Nick, this view—it’s,”
“Beautiful.” My eyes flick to his to find he’s watching me. “I know.”
Feeling my skin heat for the umpteenth time, I tear my eyes away and laugh nervously. “I’ve been wanting a tour since I arrived.”
He frowns. “Why didn't you ask?”
“It's your home, Nick. I didn’t want to invade any more than I already had.”
He stiffens, shifting so we’re standing face to face. His chest is so close to mine now, a breath away, really. When he crooks his neck, tipping his head to catch my eyes with his, I can’t help but face the difference in our size. This man dominates my tiny frame with his larger, more powerful one. And yet he is so incredibly gentle with me.
“You haven't invaded.”
“Oh.” The word comes out on a shaky breath. I'm suddenly nervous. Really nervous. And when my tongue pokes out to lick my lips, his eyes fill with heat as they drop. I think he's going to kiss me—Iwanthim to kiss me. Instead, he gives his head a short, sharp shake, and steps away.
What is that?Why didn’t he kiss me?
I'm confused, but I say nothing. I really have no time to say anything anyway as his hand squeezes around mine again. He tugs me through the living area into a wide hall where all the doors are open. I see instantly that the first door to the left is a massive gym.
“This used to be two bedrooms, but I knocked down the wall in the middle,” Nick explains. “I figured why work out in the basement, when I had two perfectly good rooms up here. I rarely go into the basement, so this just felt better, easier. When I built the house, I figured I put kids in these rooms, but after the accident,” he pauses and I want to ask him about that, about what happened. But he hasn't spoken about it, and I don't want to press. I don't want to bring up demons that he can't deal with or doesn't want to deal with.
When he tells me, I’ll listen. Until then, I'll wait.
Nick continues, “Anyway, I don't have kids. So I knocked down the wall. But before I knocked it down to make the gym, I had two more guest bedrooms.” He tongues his cheek, and my heart flips when I realize what he’s telling me.
“You don’t have another guest bed, do you?” I squeak.
He shakes his head softly, studying me. “No.” A heavy, hot beat pulses between us. “But I've got the coach. It’s comfortable, so I’ll be fine,” he assures me before he points to the right side of the hall and mutters, “Bathroom.”
My head spins, my breaths coming in much too fast as Nick tugs me to the end of the hall where I now know his bedroom sits. His bedroom—where I will sleep tonight.
My heart races and I feel—tingly all over.
“My bedroom,” he flicks on the light to illuminate the massive space, and I gulp in air. It’s everything I imagined Nick’s bedroom would be. Dark and open and warm with massive windows open to a private view of a secluded mountain. His bed shares a wall with the gym so that when he wakes, he wakes to that view.
Wow.
“Make yourself comfortable. Like I said, I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Nick turns to leave me, releasing my hand, but my heart leaps and I catch him around his bicep. “Wait!”
His eyes cut to my face, and I swallow hard. Nerves feel like they are jumping around wildly inside my body. I’m so over-stimulated—so overwhelmed—that it wouldn’t surprise me at all if my entire body is trembling, but I’m too overcome to feel it.
When he says nothing, but waits for me, I force out, “I don’t have anything to wear. I—I forgot my bag in the room. I—I wasn’t thinking.” My face and body are on fire, and Iamtrembling. “Do you have a shirt I can borrow?”
He swallows thickly and I watch the muscles in his throat work. He has a very attractive throat, I think, before my attention is snared by the deep and gruff way he answers, “Yeah.”
I release his bicep, and he moves across the room to a dresser. He pulls open the drawer and takes out a big T-shirt. Unlike most of the things he wears, this one is white. He prowls back across the room toward me, and I take the shirt.
“Thanks,” I breathe. Again, he makes to leave, and I realize that I really don't want him to. I whisper as he passes, “Stay.” And he freezes. But he doesn't look at me. His shoulders are tense, and I can hear his heavy breath in the charged space between us.
