He looks up at me with a hard stare. “Glad to see your color has returned. You scared me there for a minute.”
I cringe, my nose wrinkling at his words. “I thought the fire would keep me warmer than that.”
His eyes soften before he turns his attention back to the eggs. “You’re fine now. That’s all that matters. I decided to make you breakfast while you warmed up. I hope you don’t mind. Coffee is ready, too. I think,” he chuckles, “assuming I didn’t screw it up.”
I smile and pull a couple mugs and plates from the cabinet. “As long as the coffee is hot, I’ll take it. And eggs sound perfect. Thank you.”
I hand him the plates and pour the coffee. I take a sip and sigh. “Mm-hmm, you did good.”
“It’s all right?” He looks at me like he doubts my response. “I’ve never used one of those machines before.” He points at my grind and brew coffee maker and shakes his head.
The expression on his face makes me laugh. “You look like it was a real challenge. How could that be possible when you probably know how to use some of the most complex tools known to man?”
“Maybe so, but this is coffee, and it’s a crime to screw up coffee.”
I grin. “Maybe so.”
He plates the eggs with the bacon he fried. “Come on. Let’s get this food in you before it gets cold. Can you grab some forks and the coffee? Ricky helped me set up the back room with a couple heaters. You should be warm back there until he gets the furnace running. He thinks he can fix it today.”
“Lead the way.” I wrap my fingers from one hand through the handles of both mugs and grab the forks with the other. I follow him out of the kitchen feeling overwhelmed by how much he’s helping. “You really didn’t have to cook me breakfast. Your help with the heat is already above and beyond anything I should expect.”
He stops, and I almost run into him. When he turns around, the look in his eyes is intense and he looks … insulted. I certainly didn’t mean to do that. “I found you half frozen, Cami. What would you have expected—me letting you suffer on the floor, a breath away from hypothermia? Of course, I’m cooking you breakfast. Of course, I’m helping you with the heat. You scared the shit out of me.”
I nod. What can I say to that? Something tells me he doesn’t want to hear me thank him again. He just wants me to eat.
He glances over his shoulder for the briefest moment before he speaks. “We also moved your sofa back there to help harness the heat from the fireplace. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course, I don’t mind. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiles, and it makes me feel more at ease. “Besides, I can’t let you freeze to death. My momma would disown me if I did.”
I smile, glad to hear a hint of teasing in his voice and not the stern concern from a moment ago. I can handle teasing. Teasing is good. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”
Adam eyesmy trembling hand before he takes my empty plate away. “You’re cold.” He wraps his hand around mine and leads me closer to the fireplace. “Hold your hands close to the flames while I go get your blankets. I assume you left them upstairs.”
“I did.” He rests his hands on my shoulders and lingers before he leaves. He’s just being kind and considerate, but the way he touches me feels personal. Intimate, even. His touch sends a tingling sensation through me, and I’m not entirely convinced my trembling is from the cold air alone. I like Adam and the effect he has on me. It isn’t something I ever anticipated feeling again. Especially not at my age.
I hold my hands over the flames, and they warm quickly, but the heat does nothing to stop the rest of my body from shaking. I’m nervous and anxious and excited for Adam to return. I’m conflicted about him. I want him to keep his distance and hold me close at the same time. How crazy is that?
I hear his footsteps as he enters the room before I feel his arms wrap the blanket around my shoulders. His hands clasp together in front of me. I reach up and grab hold of his arms before he lets go.
I don’t let myself think. I let my body respond to his, and apparently my body wants him close.
“Camille?” My name leaves his lips more like a question. Instead of responding with words, I lean into him, letting my head rest against his chest. His arms relax around me, and he drops his chin to my shoulder. He inhales, taking his time to breathe me in, then whispers, “You smell so damn good.”
His calm, soothing tone relaxes me, and I spin in his arms. When I lift my chin, our lips are just inches apart. I want to eliminate the remaining distance and taste him. Feel his mouth against mine. I’m so close to letting this man kiss me. I’m not sure how I feel about that. But I know with certainty that I want him to do it.
I’m entranced by the thrill of this new man and what he can give me. And yet the weight of guilt that settles on me is suffocating.How can I kiss Adam when I love my husband?Dead or not, I love him deeply, and kissing another man feels like the worst kind of betrayal.
“Camille.” Adam’s voice draws me out of my head and back to him. I hold my gaze on his. There’s nothing but want and desire in the way he looks at me. “Tell me what you want.”
I let out a slow, shallow breath. “I don’t know if I can do this,” I confess.
Adam slips one hand around my neck, his fingers threading through my hair. His touch feels so good, and I want to feel more of him. He gives my hair a gentle tug, tilting my head toward his. “Sure you can. If you’ll let me show you.”
He doesn’t move. He waits to see what I’m going to do. He’s making it clear what he wants, but it's still my decision. If I say no, he’ll back off. But I don’t want him to back off. I press up on my toes and lean into him. It’s what I want, and I can’t stop myself.
That’s all the permission he needs.
