“I should. Work starts back up tomorrow, and my rent’s due. Plus, Beth will worry if I don’t.”
The practical reasons sound hollow even to my own ears.
He doesn’t respond right away. When he does, his voice is closer. “I can help dig the car out.”
Now I turn. He’s standing in the middle of the cabin with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks like he’s bracing for impact—like he already knows what I’m about to say and is trying to get ahead of the hurt.
God, he’s so beautiful.
“What happens if I stay another night?”
The question hangs between us.
His shoulders tense. “If you stay,” he says slowly, each word punctuated. “I’ll want you to stay longer.”
My heart slams against my ribs.
“And if I stay longer?” My voice comes out smaller than I intend.
His eyes lock on mine. “Then I won’t want you to go at all.”
There it is. The truth we’ve been dancing around since the storm cleared.
I cross the room before my brain can stop me. My arms go around his waist, my forehead pressing into his chest, and I breathe him in—wood smoke and coffee and something that’s uniquely him. His arms come around me without hesitation, without question, like he’s been waiting for permission to hold on.
“I don’t want to go either.” The words muffle against his shirt.
“Then don’t.”
“I have to.”
His chest expands under my cheek and then falls. “I know.”
We stand there and hold each other in the middle of his cabin while sunlight streams through the windows and reality presses in from all sides. His hand slides up my spine, fingers spreading wide between my shoulder blades like he’s trying to memorize the shape of me.
Like he’ll forget me.
Then he tilts my chin up, and the kiss isn’t gentle.
It’s hunger and frustration and every unsaid word between us. His mouth takes mine like he’s trying to engrave the taste of me into his memory, his teeth catching my lower lip before his tongue sweeps in.
I rise on my toes, my hands fisting in his shirt, and kiss him back with everything I have.
His hands drop to my hips and yank me against him. I can feel he’s already hard through his jeans, and heat sears through me so fast I gasp into his mouth.
“Red—”
“Do you want me to stop?” His voice is gravelly and needy. He’s already backing me toward the door and pushing the shirt up my thighs. “I can.”
I shake my head, breathless. “Don’t you dare.”
My back hits the door hard enough to rattle the frame. His mouth moves to my neck and sucks lightly, and I wrap my legs around his waist on instinct. The position grinds us together, and we both groan.
“Fuck,” he mutters against my throat. His hands are everywhere, gripping my ass, sliding under the shirt, his fingers digging into my skin. “I need?—”
“Yes.” I don’t even know what he’s asking. “Whatever it is, yes.”
He grabs the back of my neck and kisses me again, deeper this time, all tongue and teeth and desperation. I rock against him, chasing more, and his hips buck in response.
