Page 84 of Goode Tidings

"Are you warm, Eden?"

"It's a little toasty back here." There's a flush on her cheeks.

"This room is always a little hotter than the rest of the place," I tell her. It's why I bought cooling sheets when this bedroom was mine.

"I've noticed." She takes a step back, then walks to the closet. I watch as she pulls the sweater from her body, revealing the white tank top she wears beneath. She carefully folds the sweater and places it on a stack of others on a shelf.

"You might want to take off yours, too," she says, gesturing at my hoodie. "I'll put a towel over your shoulders, but hair has a way of getting everywhere."

She's right. And I do love this hoodie. I also hate being itchy. Who doesn't? I pull the sweatshirt over my head and toss it onto the bed. Unlike Eden, I am not wearing a shirt underneath.

"Nothing you haven't seen before, remember?" I tease.

"You could get completely naked, and that sentence would still ring true."

Now I'm the one blushing. Two months later and that still embarrasses me. "I'm surprised you remember," I say, making my way into the bathroom and settling on the stool Eden's set in the center of the small room. "Considering it was nothing to write home about."

Eden snort-laughs as she stands behind me and drapes a towel over my shoulders. "I believe I called it a non-event. Are you still hurt by that?"

"Male pride is a fragile thing. The damage is slow to heal."

Eden pats my shoulder. "Hopefully one day you'll get there. But if it makes you feel any better, I'm not mad about the view you're providing me right now."

"Oh yeah?" I left my gym membership behind in Phoenix, and I didn't join the small gym here in Snowflake. Aside from the physicality of renovating the cabin myself, I opt for exercises that can be done anywhere. Planks, push-ups, and Russian twists to name a few, in addition to the free weights collecting dust in the corner of the bedroom.

"Something tells me it's not puppy yoga keeping you this in shape."

"We can't all be fitness influencers, but I do what I can when I can."

Eden's eyes widen, meeting my gaze in the mirror. "Are you jealous?"

"No. But also, yes."

Eden laughs. "Do you want to be a meathead?"

"Not when you say it like that."

"How much do you exercise?" She grabs a spray bottle from its place on the counter beside her shears. She walks around me, spraying my hair from all directions, until I'm nearly as wet as I was when I walked into the cabin earlier.

I consider my answer to her question. I have one in my head, but I'm not sure I should say it.

Eden sets the bottle on the counter, and with a thoughtful expression on her face and her attention on my hair, she steps between my thighs. The answer I wasn't sure I should say out loud? It slips from my mouth before I can think about it a second time. "I exercise enough to fuck and fight."

Something unintelligible and strangled floats from Eden's mouth.

An ache blooms in my chest. Her nearness is killing me. Rather, the control I must possess to keep myself from gripping her hips is what might kill me. Her nearness is a damn privilege. I sit perfectly still, drawing in a deep and even breath.

Eden's gaze meets mine, and then she lifts tentative hands. Eyes locked on mine, she runs them ever so slowly through my hair. My lips press together, my eyes close, all in an effort to keep the rough groan from leaving my chest.

Her touch. I've never felt anything so good. She repeats the path, using her nails on my scalp. I don't have a hope of containing my exhale, not when she's leaving a tiny fire in her wake. My body feels hot and alive. I want her to stop touching me as much as I want her to never stop. It feels so good, almost too good, and it's only her fingers in my hair.

She moves out from the cage made by my thighs, stepping behind me. Probably a wise idea. I meet her gaze in the mirror. Her pink blush from earlier has deepened, turning her cheeks the loveliest shade. Her tongue darts out to lick her lips, and she takes a steadying breath.

I am Superman again. Proud and loving the way I've affected her. I want to affect her more. I want to do it endlessly.

"Callum," she whispers, hoarse. "You have to let me focus."

I say nothing. Close my eyes. It's the only way we can accomplish this. My pulse pounds as she moves around me, touching my head as she pulls my hair. The snip snip snip does nothing to lower my heart rate.