Page 119 of The Sugar and Spice Kitchen

She pushed back to meet him, finding the rhythm that was theirs, and his low groan against her spine sent heat cascading through her all over again.

When he finally reached around to circle her with his fingers, she came apart—her thighs shaking, his name on her breath—wave after wave of it until she was limp against the console.

He wasn’t done.

He eased her back around to face him and sat back on the bench, drawing her into his lap.

She sank down onto him slowly, taking her time, watching his face while she did it—the way his jaw tightened, the way his eyes stayed on hers, the way he looked at her like she was his everything.

She began to move.

This position was different. Chest to chest. Face to face. His arms around her inside the jacket, warm and close. She felt cared for and desired at once, the two arriving together in a way they hadn’t before, and she understood, somewhere in the back of her mind, that this was what she’d been afraid of—not the wanting, but the feeling wanted back.

He kissed her neck, her collarbone, the curve of her shoulder. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he said quietly. “Riding me in my truck. Wearing my coat.” He pressed his forehead briefly to hers. “You’re absolute perfection.”

She rode him harder, her hands braced on his shoulders, and he met her movement for movement, his grip at her hips guiding without controlling, and the truck shifted faintly beneath them, and she stopped thinking about anything at all.

After a while, he lifted her gently and shifted their positions, laying her back on the wide seat with the jacket spread open beneath her. He hooked her legs over his shoulders and pushed back inside her in one smooth, certain motion.

This angle stole her breath all over again. Deep and slow, each stroke precise, each one grinding warmth through her until her back arched off the seat.

“Look at me,” he said softly.

She did. Their eyes stayed locked while he moved, slow and powerful and completely unhurried, watching every expression with total attention, as though she was something he intended to understand completely.

The intimacy of it was almost too much. Being entirely bare under his jacket while he looked at her like that. She felt seen in a way she hadn’t braced for and hadn’t known to want.

When she came the second time it was deep and shaking, and she heard herself make a sound that was almost his name. He followed close behind, burying himself and going still, his groan low in his chest, her name somewhere in it.

They stayed connected for a long time afterward, breathing together, foreheads pressed. Outside, through the bay’s upper windows, the Christmas lights of Maple Falls glowed soft against the dark.

Eventually, Cole eased back and gathered her into his arms, wrapping the jacket around them both.

He kissed her temple. Then her mouth, slow and warm.

“You okay?” His voice was rough at the edges in the way she’d come to understand meant he was feeling something he didn’t have a word for yet.

Emily smiled against his neck. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I think I finally am.”