“I’m in bed with you.”
“Onthe bed.” Though his version of reality has So. Much. Appeal. “I can light the fire—maybe. I’ve never tried.”
“At all, or just here?”
“At all.”
Tam takes my hand and rises so fast I don’t realise it’s happening until I’m standing on two socked feet. He guides me to the unused log burner and lets go to open it. “Logs are out the back.”
By the door I haven’t got round to opening. I pad over and retrieve a couple. They’re cold and tough to my palms. Damp, even. But Tam says nothing as I pile them beside him, too busy scrunching paper and stacking little sticks like Jenga.
He lights the fire and loads the logs. Instant heat hits my face, but I know that, like Tam, the real warmth lies deeper, and I’m prepared to wait. The question is where. Having him stretched out on my bed is heaven, but I’d be lying if I don’t admit I’ve wastedhoursto daydreaming about rolling around on the floor with him too.
I reclaim his hand. “Sit? Unless it hurts your back…”
In answer, Tam folds his tall frame onto the rug.
We’ve left our beers by the bed.
I assume that’s what he gets up for a split-second later. Then shadows cloak the annex and I realise he’s…shut the blinds. “Oh damn. I didn’t know they were there.”
“And here’s me thinking you were just an exhibitionist.”
Tam hands me my beer. His gaze is hot, and I wonder what he’s seen. Then decide I don’t care. If it bothered him, he’d have told me about the blinds a month ago. Which begs the question…
Why’s he closing them now?
Or, more likely, why amIthinking it’s for any reason other than it’s dark?
Tam sits down again. He stares at me, then swipes his thumb between my brows the way I did him a few minutes ago. “What are you thinking so hard about?”
“Me? Nothing.”
He rumbles the low sound that makes my blood pump a little hotter.
Leans closer.
Then he sits back with a quiet sigh. “I’ve missed you.”
I miss him now he’s half a foot further away. And this week?
Wow. After the evening we spent together in his spare bedroom and on his couch, he’s been on my mind constantly.Even at work, where I’ve been trying to put into practice the writing skills from his books. Especially at work. I’ve had some really sick patients to look after this week, and it’s made me think of Tam, and how close I came to losing him before I ever met him. “I missed you too.”
“My cooking or my amazing sense of humour?”
“All of it.” I lie back on the rug, instinct telling me he’ll do the same.
He does, and he reaches for me again, except this time, it’s not to chase away whatever frown is creasing my face, it’s to cup my cheek and brush his thumb over my cheekbone.
This is dangerous.
Tam doesn’t want how he’s making me feel. He likes me. We’re friends. And he wants to fuck—Iknowthat. But that’s it. These butterflies in my stomach? They have to fly the hell away. Or I need to find the will to stop him touching me like this, and I already know I don’t have it.
“You asked about my track record.” My voice is a whisper. “It’s messy, I can’t lie. But maybe it’s time I got better at picking who to fuck.”
Thirteen
TAM
