“Trust me, I can see that.” His fingers squeeze, and there’s a tender smile in his voice. “Please know you don’t have to hop around on a twisted ankle or get your clothes sopping wet in the middle of the night in order for me to have fun being with you.”
I’m already nestled in and at peace, but my heart slows to a near stop. Somehow, some way…Knox knew. He knew thatcherishing the gentle whoosh of fat snowflakes, of relishing with my eyes the beautiful blanket of untouched white, was enough for me. That I was mentally calculating the cost of wet clothes and tangled hair and awkward changing sessions that building a snowman or sketching a snow angel would bring.
See?No fun. No flirt. Just boring, serious old me. And yet, I’ve never felt this…seen. My throat thickens. My eyes tickle with tears. “You really do like to read,” I whisper. My eyes found the stack of books on his table and my heart saw a sign.
“Very much.” His deep baritone rumbles his chest.
“But you don’t like snow?” That’s one—and only one—for the cons list.
“Not a fan when I’m trying to meet a deadline, no.”
“Otherwise?”
“My family has a Christmas Day snowball fight whenever possible. It’s awesome.”
I love, love, love the way Knox can speak in smiles. I don’t have to see to know his expression or hear his joy.
As for myself, I can’t stop smiling into his chest where it’s warm and safe.
Safe to be me?
“Hey.” He pulses his pectoral, slamming it against my cheekbone.
I peer way up. “Yes?”
“You should know…” He touches the tip of his nose to mine. “We get lots of snow in Kansas City.”
Timing and tone limit the ways the remark can be taken. “I’d like to see your snow sometime.”
He strokes the hair down my back. “I think that can be arranged. I’m already having visions of showing it to you.”
A flake, intricately designed and amazing, just like he is, wisps onto the dampening wave curling over his forehead. He laysthe backs of his fingers to my cheek. The air whitens his warm breath. “I simply must kiss you now, Everly Wilkes.”
No man has everhadto kiss me.
“Tell me I can kiss you.” He trails his thumb along my face, resting it near my mouth.
I curl his shirt into my fists. “I might never forgive you if you don’t.”
He grins, little boy sweet, grown man hungry. Knox lowers his mouth to mine. My knees threaten collapse, but he shores me up as if I’m featherlight.
I feel like I am. Drifting. Floating.
This man. Thisamazingman.
One of us deepens the exchange. Giving. Taking. I release his shirt and slip my arms around his neck. It’s hardly enough, so I press in, feeling him half-step backwards. He cradles my head. His fingers thread my hair.
I’m lost, deep in magical, snowy woods and not caring if I’m ever found.
“Hey!” From somewhere in the cosmos, a voice shouts. “They got rooms for that kind of stuff.”
One of us breaks the kiss. Probably Knox, he’s the strong one.
He’s also backed against the pickup.Did I do that?
He continues holding me as I follow his gaze to the source of the reprimand.
The man who was with the one he fired leans against a pole outside an open door, puffing away on a cigarette. He exhales a smoke ring and grins smirkily. “This is a family establishment, Herd. Take it inside, will ya?”
