She’d already fallen.
Chapter Fifteen – Christopher
Christopher couldn’t breathe as Sorcha opened the door, her hair loose around her shoulders, falling in waves he wanted to run his fingers through. The emerald sweater she wore made her eyes glow like forest pools in sunlight, and for a moment, he forgot every word he’d rehearsed on the walk over.
“Hi,” he finally managed, his voice rougher than he’d intended.
“Hi,” she echoed, stepping back to let him in. “Come on in.”
The scent hit him immediately—garlic, tomatoes, herbs—making his stomach growl. But it was her scent that made his mouth water.
And what he wouldn’t give to taste her lips…
“Something smells amazing,” he said, slipping off his boots by the door. His jacket hung on the hook beside him, and he could not resist the urge to lean forward and inhale deeply. Her scent mixed with his. As it should be.
A rush of possessive pleasure ran through his veins along with a certainty that tonight was the night their relationship would take a step…
A leap,his bear corrected.
A leap forward.
“It’s just a simple pasta sauce,” she replied, moving toward the kitchen. “I’m not much of a cook, but this is one thing I can manage.”
Christopher followed her, watching the way she moved, the sway of her hips, the swell of her breasts hidden beneath her sweater. He licked his lips as his hands twitched at his sides. He wanted to tear her clothes from her body and kiss her from head to toe until she writhed in pleasure.
He swallowed down that need and focused on the two candles standing unlit on the table. His heart jumped at the sight. Had she been debating whether to light them? What had stopped her?
“Can I help with anything?” he asked, hovering at the edge of the kitchen.
“You could open the wine?” Sorcha gestured to a bottle on the counter. “Glasses are in that cupboard.”
He found a corkscrew in the drawer and worked the cork free with practiced motions. The domestic simplicity of it—opening wine while she stirred the sauce—felt right in a way that shook him to his core.
This is how it should be,his bear whispered.Every night. Her and us. Home.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier,” Sorcha said suddenly, her back still to him. “About being happy with the path you’ve taken.”
Christopher’s hands stilled on the wine bottle. “You have?”
“I’ve spent so many years building my career, moving from place to place.” She turned to face him, wooden spoon still in hand. “I thought that’s what I wanted. Freedom. Adventure.”
His heart thudded against his ribs as he carefully poured the wine into two glasses. “And now?”
“Now I’m not so sure.” Her eyes met his, vulnerable and questioning. “Does that sound crazy? To question everything you’ve worked for because of a few days in a place that feels…”
“Like home?” he supplied when she trailed off.
The word hung between them, loaded with meaning. Christopher handed her a glass of wine, their fingers brushing. The contact sent a familiar electric shock through him, and he saw her eyes widen slightly. She felt it too.
“I wouldn’t sayhome,” she replied, though something in her expression suggested otherwise. “But there’s something about Bear Creek. About…” She hesitated, then took a sip of wine instead of finishing the thought.
About me?Christopher wanted to ask. His bear urged him forward, to tell her everything…about mates, about the bond they shared, about how he’d known from the first moment their eyes had met that she was his. But fear held him back. What if it were too much? What if he scared her away when she might already be on the edge of deciding to stay on her own?
“I think dinner’s ready,” Sorcha said, breaking the moment. She turned to the stove, setting down her wine to drain the pasta.
Christopher leaned against the counter. If only he had even a fraction of her gift with words, maybe he could find the right ones to anchor her here.
If not, she would leave. The thought stabbed through him like an icicle through the heart.
