“Open your legs. Now—hold on to me.”
I barely have time to comply before he lifts me again.
Just like that.
Like I’m light.
Like I’m easy to carry.
Like my body doesn’t take up space the way I’ve always been told it does.
His hands secure me at the hips first, then they go down to my ass. Firm and steady.
My arms go around his neck on instinct, backpack dangling awkwardly from one shoulder.
Snow crunches under his boots as he carries me through it, up the steps, and inside.
Warmth hits me all at once.
He doesn’t put me down immediately.
Instead, he leans back slightly and looks at me—really looks at me.
His eyes are dark, intense, searching in a way that makes my breath catch.
Like he’s seeing straight through my fear and into something deeper.
“Put your feet down, Willow.”
Embarrassment floods me, but I do as he says—or try to.
My feet don’t quite reach the floor.
He lowers me slowly.
Too slowly.
My body slides against his, and for one dizzying second I’m acutely aware of how close we are.
Of how solid he is.
Of the unmistakable heat between us that has nothing to do with the fire or the storm.
Of the thick, hard length pressing against my belly.
I freeze.
So does he.
And for one charged, breathless moment, I’m not sure which of us is more shocked by what we both just felt.
“We need to get you out of these wet clothes.”
CHAPTER 21
THATCHER
This is a bad idea.
