To his intense shock and surprise, a small hand made its way between the thin layers of cashmere and found his bare chest. Within seconds his erection lifted and thickened. His voice locked in his throat. He was positive that if he spoke, the words would come out wrong.
Phoebe’s hand landed over his heart and lingered as if counting the beats. Could she hear the acceleration? Did she feel the rigidity of his posture? He gulped, his breathing shallow and ragged. There was no way she could miss his thrusting sex, even through her pseudo armor.
The woman in his arms sighed deeply. “You should go to your room,” she whispered. “The floor will be too hard.”
“I’ll manage.” He thrust her away, hoping the maneuver wasn’t as awkward as it felt. Turning his back, he added logs to the fire and then prepared his makeshift bed.
In his peripheral vision he saw Phoebe ready the sofa with a pile of blankets and her own pillow. When she sat down, removed her slippers and swung her legs up onto the couch, he caught one quick glimpse of bare, slender thighs. Holy hell.
A shot of whiskey wouldn’t come amiss, but Phoebe’s fridge held nothing stronger than beer. Quietly, keeping a wide perimeter between himself and temptation, he went about the cabin turning off lights. Soon, only the glow of the fire and the muted rainbow colors of the tree illuminated the room.
He checked the lock on the front door and closed a gap in the drapes. When he could think of nothing else as a distraction, he turned reluctantly and surveyed the evocative scene Phoebe’s love of Christmas had created. Even the most hardened of “Scrooge-ish” hearts surely couldn’t resist the inherent emotion.
Peace. Comfort. Home. All of it was there for anyone with eyes to see. Had his luxurious condo in Atlanta ever been as appealing?
Phoebe’s eyes were closed, a half smile on her lips. She lay like a child with one hand tucked beneath her cheek. He didn’t know if she was already asleep or simply enjoying the smell of the outdoors they had managed to capture in a tree. Perhaps it was the sound of the fire she savored, the same life-affirming heat that popped and hissed as it had for generations before.
Exhaustion finally overrode his lust-addled brain and coaxed him toward sleep. He fashioned his bed in front of the hearth and climbed in. It wasn’t the Ritz-Carlton, but for tonight, there was nowhere he would rather be. After no more than five minutes, he realized that his robe was going to be far too warm so close to the fire.
Shrugging out of it, he tossed it aside and lay back in the covers with a yawn. A month ago if anyone had told him he’d be camping out on a hard floor in dangerous proximity to a fascinating woman he wanted desperately, he’d have laughed. Of course, he would have had a similar reaction if that same someone had told him he’d have a heart attack at thirty-six.
He had to tell Phoebe the truth about why he had come to the Smoky Mountains…to her cabin in the woods. She had bared her soul to him. Perhaps tomorrow he would find the opportunity and the words to reveal the truth. The prospect made him uneasy. He hated admitting weakness. Always had. But his pride should not stand in the way of his relationship to a woman he had come to respect as much or more than he desired her.
He shifted on the furry pallet, searching for a position that was comfortable. With Phoebe in the same room, he didn’t even have the option of taking his sex in hand and finding relief. Hours passed, or so it seemed, before he slept….
* * *
Phoebe jerked awake, her heart pounding in response to some unremembered dream. It took her several seconds to recognize her surroundings. In the next instant, she glanced at the baby monitor. Reassurance came in the form of a grainy picture. Teddy slept in his usual position.
Sighing shakily as adrenaline winnowed away, she glanced at the clock on the far wall. Two in the morning. The fire burned brightly, so Leo must have been up tending to it recently. The room was warm and cozy. Despite her unaccustomed bed and the late hour, she felt momentarily rested and not at all sleepy.
Warily, she lifted her head a couple of inches, only enough to get a clear view of Leo over the top of the coffee table. Her breath caught at the picture he made. Sprawled on his back on the bearskin rug, he lay with one arm flung outward, the other bent and covering his eyes.
He was bare-chested. Firelight warmed skin that was deep gold dusted with a hint of dark hair that ran down the midline of his rib cage. Smooth muscles gave definition to a torso that was a sculptor’s dream.
Arousal swam in her veins, sluggish and sweet, washing away any vestige of sadness from earlier in the evening. A wave of yearning tightened her thighs. Moisture gathered in her sex, readying her for his possession. Leo would never have made a move on her this evening in light of what she had shared with him.