To hell with it. She wanted it. He wanted it. One kiss and her curiosity would be sated. One kiss and he’d be able to get her out of his mind.
There was no gentle preamble. Their lips met in a kiss of unbridled longing, of hunger that had smoldered beneath the surface for too long. He stroked her tongue with his, sucked on her lower lip. Her fingers wound through his hair and pulled him closer. She gave a throaty moan, and his cock hardened beneath her hips. His hands were moving, caressing her sides, her back, pulling her as close as possible. She was everything he’d never stopped needing. Everything he could never live without. He wanted to show her how good a kiss could be, how the right man could make her sing with pleasure. How they were meant to be together?—
He ripped his lips from hers. Inhaled ragged breaths of air and stared down at her with alarm. At what point had she gained the upper hand? How had she pulled such need from him? Need he hadn’t even been aware existed until that moment?
And why did it feel…right?
Imogen touched her swollen lips with a shaking hand. “You’re no toad.”
“Told you,” he said gruffly. “Now lay your head on my shoulder.”
She shifted in his lap to do as told, her plump bottom sliding over his rigid cock. He gritted his teeth against the heady pleasure and tightened both arms around her. At last, she was still. He dipped his nose to nestle in her hair, and her intoxicating scent calmed his stampeding heart. They sat in silence, lulled by the soft crackle of firewood. Imogen’s breathing turned heavy and rhythmic.
Ever so slowly, Tommy raised a finger and stroked her silken cheek. The simple touch, forbidden from him all those years ago, was both soothing and disquieting. He would never be the man she needed. The man she deserved. But there was one thing he could give her now, in this cabin, in this wintry dreamworld deep within the Cascade Mountains. Something he would never regret.
All-consuming pleasure.
What if, for a little while, they indulged themselves and explored the intense desire between them? Found a little happiness together? Imogen murmured in her sleep and burrowed closer, as if she’d heard his thoughts. He rested his head against hers and allowed himself the joy of looking forward to tomorrow.
Chapter 7
Tommy was gone.
Imogen stood in the center of the empty cabin, a red and green flannel blanket wrapped around her like a protective talisman and tried not to sniffle. If she did, her head would implode.
She shuffled to the table for a glass of water. Her hand quivered with the effort of lifting it to her dry, parched lips. When was the last time she’d drunk so much whiskey? And why had she tried to impress a man destined to leave her?
She’d pushed too far. Let her libido take over like a wildfire devouring dry tinder. Teased him into kissing her. Oh God that kiss. It had been everything she’d wanted. More than she could ever have expected.
But she’d known the second he tore his mouth from hers that he regretted it. He’d looked like he was ready to brave an avalanche to escape. Sitting in his lap afterward had felt like a final embrace, but she’d leaned into it regardless of the heart wrenching knowledge that when she woke, she would be alone.
How terrible it was to be right.
She lay on the floor and stuck her head under the boughs of the small Christmas tree. It wasn’t as grand as the one back home in Capitol Hill, but the scent of slightly moldy evergreen and stale popcorn grounded her.
How had this happened? They’d fallen into a rapport, one that had felt good, natural. One she already missed. One she hadn’t been ready to give up on. Her lip trembled. Alone on Christmas. Was there anything more sad? There wasn’t even any stew left to cure the pain in her head.
The door shuddered open and she jolted upright, a few pine needles falling to the floor around her. Tommy stood in the doorway, half swallowed by the conductor’s coat and wearing her pink knit hat with embroidered flowers. “What are you doing on the floor?”
She scrambled to her feet. The relief that rolled through her was overshadowed by her stomach, which heaved at the quick movement. “I thought you left me.” She winced at her choice of words. “What I meant was, I thought you left for Seattle.”
“I was drinking my coffee.” He indicated the mug in his hand, which she hadn’t noticed.
“Right. How silly of me.”
Brow furrowing, he set the mug on the table and removed his coat. He brushed the snow from the shoulders and hung it on the peg by the door before meeting her gaze. “I gave you my word I’d stay.”
“I thought you changed your mind.”
He gave her an exasperated look. “Well, I didn’t.” He studied her hair, which most likely resembled a heron’s nest after its eggs had hatched, before sliding his gaze down her torso. “Besides, it looks like another storm is heading this way. I need to replenish the firewood before—Genie, are you alright?”
Imogen followed his gaze to her legs which, she realized dimly, were shaking. She might have steeled her heart for his announcement, but she’d forgotten about her knees. In two strides, he was at her side, one hand coming to rest on the small of her back.
“You’re in no shape to be out of bed. Too much whiskey will do that to you.”
“I’m quite capable of?—”
“None of that.” He nudged her toward the bed. “Lie down and I’ll take care of everything.”
