“I’m glad you called,” he says.
I pull my eyes from the sky and look at him.
“Let’s get you inside,” he says.
I grab my purse, and we jump out at the same time and run to the porch. Cooper tries to cover me with his jacket until we get under the porch roof.
Wind whips and sprays in six different directions, and my hands shake as I struggle to get my key in the door.
Cooper’s hand covers mine and steadily puts the key in the lock and turns it.
I push the door open, and he closes it behind him, letting out a breath and I turn around, dropping my purse on the floor before throwing myself into his arms. He takes a step back, catching in his strong arms.
“Thank you,” I mumble into his neck.
“No problem, everything is going to be okay,” he says and kisses my temple. “Mind if I hang around for a bit until this passes?”
“Of course.” Then the power flickers and then it goes dark.
“I’m assuming your aunt and uncle have a generator,” Cooper says, still holding onto me.
I groan and shake my head against his shoulder. “It’s getting repaired next week.”
Cooper chuckles and pulls back. “Do you want me to look at it?” he asks.
“In this weather? No, please don’t.”
He rubs my back and stops. “Though I am enjoying this wet dress contest, that you are absolutely winning, why don’t you go get something dry on and I’ll find some candles,” he says with a smirk.
“I’m sure my uncle has some extra clothes lying around you could wear.”
“I’m fine in my boxers, but that works too,” Cooper says, tucking a wet curl behind my ear and gently grabs my chin, bringing my lips to his.
My heart snaps.
I don’t know the singular moment when it changed. I don’t know how it all clicked into place, and maybe it was my not-brush-with-death, brush with death, or maybe it was finally talking to Mom, or sitting still long enough to be alone with my own thoughts, or it was the freaking Whitney Houston song.
Whateverit was, I want to let go of the rope because I can’t let go ofhim.
I lean into the kiss, inhaling him, taking everything he gives me.
He grunts opening for me, and instead of a tentative exploration, it’s an all-out duel. His hands clutch my hips, squeezing and kneading.
My hands wander over his chest and under his wet shirt. He shivers against me, and I tug on his belt loop.
He pulls back with a grin and kisses my cheeks. “Are you asking for somethin’, stubborn?”
I nod, too overwhelmed by an acuteneedfor him.
“Then ask,” he breathes, but it tastes desperate.
I swallow thickly, wondering if this is the right choice. But maybe it’s not a choice I have to actively make at all because it’s already been made.
“I got a promotion, and my mom has MS and I take care of her most of the time,” I say, the words tumbling from my lips.
Cooper’s hands don’t drop from my hips. He doesn’t retreat, but smiles sadly. “That’s great. I’m happy for you, and I’m sorry to hear that. Is she doing okay?”
The only light we have is coming through the windows, and it’s grey at that. The storm rages outside, but I’m lost in Cooper.
