“Beau.” She says it deliberately, watching my face, and I groan.
“You're playing with fire.”
“Maybe I want to burn.”
That does it. I pull her into my lap, her legs straddling my thighs, and she comes willingly, eagerly, her hands framing my face.
“Tell me to stop,” I say against her lips, giving her an out.
“Don't youdarestop.”
I kiss her, and it's nothing gentle. Days of wanting her, of waking up with her pressed against me; it all pours into this kiss. She makes this sound, a half gasp, half moan, and opens for me, her tongue meeting mine.
She tastes so damn sweet. Her hands are in my hair, pulling slightly, and I grip her hips, holding her against me. She rocks forward, and we both groan at the contact, my cock pushing up against my zipper.
“Fuck,” I breathe against her neck, kissing down her throat.
The lights flicker and die completely. The hum of the generator outside gives a grinding sound, then silence.
“Shit,” I mutter.
Clara laughs, breathless. “The universe has terrible timing.”
I set her down reluctantly, keeping one hand on her waist, unable to fully let go. “I need to fix that before the pipes freeze.”
She pulls me down for one more kiss, deep and full of heat. “I'll be here when you get back.”
“Hold that thought,” I tell her, pressing one more kiss to her swollen lips.
Her smile is wicked. “I'm counting on it.”
Chapter Five
CLARA
The fire crackles, casting dancing shadows across Beau's huge Christmas tree in the corner. It's decorated with hand-carved ornaments; tiny wooden reindeer, bears, stars. Each one is intricate and perfect.
He comes inside, taking off his coat. “All done. It should be fine overnight. Snow’s easing up, anyway.”
“You made all of these?” I trace a finger along a delicate snowflake ornament, trying to calm my still-thrumming body. He walks over to me, gathering me into his big arms.
“Long winter nights,” he says against my hair, his voice rough. “Not much else to do up here.”
"They're beautiful." I shift to look up at him, and the raw hunger in his eyes makes my core clench.
“Fuck, Clara.” His hand tightens on my waist, fingers splaying possessively as he sits on the couch, taking me with him to sit on his lap. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Show me.”
His pupils are blown dark as his chest rises and falls, and there’s an obvious bulge in his jeans that I'm trying not to stare at.
“I guess I should tell you I've never felt like this before,” I admit. “Like I'll die if you don't touch me.”
His hands slide to my hips, gripping tight. “You can't say things like that.”
“Why not?” I rock against him deliberately, feeling him thick and hard beneath me. “It's true. I've been wet since you carried me to your truck.”
He groans, his control snapping. In one fluid movement, he flips us so I'm beneath him on the couch, his weight pressing me into the cushions.
