"Are you warm enough?" he asks.
"Yes."
"Are you comfortable?"
I nod.
"Good." His tone quiets, almost gentles. "You looked tired earlier."
"I was," I admit. "But now I can't stop thinking."
"About what?"
"You."
The word is out before I can stop it. His expression shifts, subtle but unmistakable, a slight tightening in his jaw, a slow inhalation, a heat that flickers in his eyes.
"Emory," he says quietly.
I don't know what he means to follow it with, because I take another step toward him. Then another. Until I'm standingbeside the couch, close enough that I feel the warmth radiating from his body.
He rises slowly, like he's afraid any wrong movement might break the moment. For a second we stand there, inches apart, snow whispering against the windows while the tension builds between us.
"You should be asleep," he murmurs.
"So should you."
"I know."
His hand lifts as if he's going to touch my face, but he stops when he's only a breath away, fingertips hovering near my cheek.
"If I touch you," he says, "I won't want to stop."
"Maybe I won't want you to stop."
He closes his eyes for a moment, steadying himself, then opens them again. Whatever restraint he's been clinging to is fraying.
When he finally reaches for me, his fingers brush my cheek with a carefulness that feels more intimate than a kiss. His touch is warm, solid, reverent.
I lean into it before I can think better of it.
My hands find his chest, feeling the slow, controlled breath beneath my palms. He's trying so hard to stay steady, but I can feel the tension coiling through him like a wire pulled tight.
His head lowers. Mine tilts up. Our lips hover close enough that his breath warms my mouth. The air between us vibrates with anticipation. My pulse thunders.
We're a moment from kissing.
A gust of wind slams into the cabin, shaking the windows hard enough to startle us both. Pike steps back instantly, jaw tight, as the moment shatters like glass.
"Emory," he says again, but this time his voice sounds strained. "This isn't a good idea."
"Why not?"
"Because I want you too much."
"I don't see how that's a problem," I whisper.
His hands curl at his sides, like he's trying not to reach for me again. "I don't know how to be… half-way with someone. If I start something with you, I won't be able to pull back."
