She helped him do the dishes, even though he protested he would do them himself. He poured them wine and they sat on the couch in front of the fire again. The lights on the Christmas tree and the firelight tossed warm flickering golden streaks across the room. Steve shrugged off his sweater and his navy blue t-shirt stretched across his chest and his broad shoulders.
She settled against him, but he was having none of that. He pulled her into his lap. She rested her head against his shoulder, their fingers entwined and she stared at their hands in the low light. His long, strong, tanned fingers. Her short thin ones, a bit rough from her job and the constant scrubbing of her hands.
He kissed her once. Just a quick sweet kiss that hinted of so much more.
“I want to take you to bed with me.” Steve’s low voice rumbled against her.
She was so sure and so unsure at the same time. He nibbled at her neck sending goosebumps down her spine.
“What do you say?”
It took less than a second for her to decide. “I say, yes.”
He stood up with her still in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. The room was picked up and tidy. She wondered if he always kept it this way, or if he’d cleaned it up just for her? He set her carefully near the bed.
He reached one hand behind his neck and shrugged off his t-shirt. She ran her hands along his chest.
He swept her up again in his arms, unceremoniously dumped her on the bed, and followed down right with her, keeping most of his weight off of her with his arms. He kissed her then. One of those mind numbing, breath-taking-away, make-her-senseless kisses. The heat rushed through her now. There was one small lamp on in the corner of the room. Just enough light to see his face.
“I’m so glad to have you here in my bed.” He trailed his fingers across her lips and pushed back a lock of her hair.
“I’m glad to be here.” She reached up and pulled those warm lips of his to hers.
* * * * *
Her hair fell against his shoulder like a soft silken rope, tying him in place. Unable to move, or breathe, or even think. He’d felt like he’d lost himself for a few minutes there. He hadn’t known where he ended and she began. It was more than just sex. They’d made a connection. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against him.
“Um. That was nice,” she murmured against his chest while she ran her delectable fingers back and forth. He clamped down on them, stopping the torture.
Darn straight that was nice. Better than nice. But all he said was. “It was.”
She slid to his side and cuddled up close to him one leg threaded between his.
“You okay?” He pulled her closer.
She sighed. “I’m better than okay. I feel fabulous.” As if to prove it, she stretched like a satisfied cat and settled back against him.
“Want to feel fabulous again?”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I’ll take that as a complement.”
He drifted in and out of sleep until the daylight began to creep slowly into his room. For once he didn’t want dawn to break and the day begin. He wanted to stay here in this room, with this woman sleeping in his arms. He’d no idea how she’d bewitched him in such a short time, but she had.
She stirred in his arms.
“Morning, sleepyhead.”
She opened one eye and looked at him. “Really? It’s morning already? Not fair.” She closed her eye again.
“What time do you have to be at work?”
“Work. Darn it. What time is it?” She stirred again.
“Six.”
“Ugh, I need to go. I need a shower and I need to get ready.”
“How about a shower here?”
“I’m not sure I’d make it to work if I shower here.” She grinned at him.
“I’ll be good. I promise.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
She did grab a quick shower then stood at the mirror and reached out to wipe the moisture away and look at herself. “I look a wreck.”
“You look beautiful.”
“You’re just saying that to see if I’ll go back to bed with you.” She grinned at him in the mirror.
“Hey, whatever works.” He shot her a wicked grin.
She crossed into the bedroom to collect her clothes. He stood with his towel wrapped around his waist and watched her every move. Bending over to pick up her clothes. Shaking her jeans as if that would get out the wrinkles of a night of being piled on the floor. Grabbing her sweater off the chair. She finally had everything collected and slipped into her clothes.
“Here, let me get dressed and walk you back to the cottage.”
“No. I’m fine. I’ll just run home and change for work.”