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Bradford grinned, inching closer. “What are you thinking?”
“Nothing appropriate, I’m sure.”
He leaned in closer. “I won’t tell.”
She shook her head but held her ground. “Nope.”
“Can I bribe you?”
“Probably.” The word slipped out and her eyes widened.
He reached up, ignoring the fuzzy material covering his arms with its soft colors and darker stars, to cup her cheek. “Tell me what you want.”
The humor faded from her eyes before she paused and shook her head. When she looked at him again the amusement was back, but Bradford felt he had missed something important.
“I need to get some sleep. Tomorrow I want to try and cover the roof holes.”
He shook his head. “No fucking way.”
Her expression pinched. “What do you mean?”
“It’s fucking insane to even consider going up on the roof of a house you don’t know in the middle of winter to fix holes. You don’t even know if any section of the roof is stable. What happens if you fall through?”
She clenched her jaw but held her tongue.
He faced her, gripping her wrist. Beneath his fingertips, her pulse kicked up and his response was a jolt to his groin. But his focus remained on her and this damn insane idea of hers.
“I have to do something. The roads aren’t passable, and I don’t relish the idea of living in my vehicle. I don’t have an endless amount of gasoline to keep it running.”
“What do you know about sound house structures?”
She shook her head. “Nothing, but I do know that I found tarps in the garage and any additional help in keeping out the snow and wind is going to be good. I’ve not been here in the Rockies at this time of year before.”
“I’m not letting you go up there. I’ll do it.” He set his jaw in a firm line and furrowed his brow.
“You just survived a plane crash. The last place you need to be is up on a roof in the middle of a snowstorm. Your slick expensive shoes aren’t going to do you a damn bit of good up there except send you sliding off the roof.”
He clenched his jaw and tugged on her wrist, spilling her forward over his lap. When her lips parted in a gasp, he took possession of her mouth.
Chapter Six
Holy hell.
Surely she’d fallen and hit her head, giving herself a concussion. For that was the only thing that made sense to her as why this man was kissing her. Not only that, but why in the world was she leaning into him and opening further to take more of his tongue in her mouth. Swirling her own around it and moaning as he increased the pressure of the kiss.
Bradford slid his left hand along her neck to briefly cup her nape before he moved up, fingers twisting into the curls of her afro. His short nails dug along her scalp and all she could do was purr and curve her own fingers into his chest, needing to be closer.
He encouraged her to do so, his right hand settling upon her ass and bringing her up on his lap so she straddled him in front of the fire on their makeshift bed. Not once did Iris think of refusing. Every cell in her body migrated toward him, needing more…well, him.
Chest to chest she sat on his lap, her own fingers happy as she had them woven into his hair, the silken strands gliding along her skin. The low rumble from him vibrated through her and settled deep within. Her nipples were pebbled and achy as she rocked on the hard evidence of his arousal. The emptiness in her core grew as she continued to move back and forth on him. More, her blood chimed.
“Fucking Christ, I need you naked.”
Deep and guttural, his voice moved over her like his caress, tender but with a hint of hardness that she craved. Also shocking, as Iris realized exactly what she was doing and flew off him, nearly kneeing him in the junk as she vacated his lap like the hounds of hell were upon her.
“What the fuck?” Bradford looked up at her after she’d jumped to her feet, heart thundering.
Iris ran. From the room and from him. She barely had time to grab her coat but she did, whistling for Piros as she moved. Thankfully her dog never let her down and was right on her heels as she made her all too noticeable escape.
Iris shook as she leaned over the counter in the freezing kitchen. The plywood was rattling due to the wind. His scent, his touches, fuck, just everything about him. Her core clenched with need—something that until she’d met him Iris had only believed existed in romance novels.
“I’m in trouble, Piros.” And it had nothing to do with the weather around her. It did, however, have everything to do with the man sharing the house with her.
