But his arms were wrapped around hers, holding them by her sides, and he was doing ridiculously delicious things to the nape of her neck again, first with this teeth, then with his tongue, then his teeth again. And she forgot her urgency with the ties, because it was too hard to feel and think at the same time. She went with feeling. Waves upon waves of the most tantalizing feelings, rushing through her, cascading over her skin, shivering down her spine.
And then her pantaloons fell slack to the floor, in a puddle of soft white cambric. He shifted them so she could step out, moving the two of them closer to the bed. He stopped, and rolled down the wide elastic band that held up her thin cotton gym shorts. Then rolled it down again, and again, until he was satisfied there was nothing underneath them. He slid the sides of his thumbs along just inside the waistband, out to her hip bones, and she held her breath, expecting him to hook them and drag the shorts off. Hoping, maybe, too.
Instead he turned her in his arms so she faced him. He was shirtless, and he was . . . magnificent. But not perfect. There were scars. More than one. In fact, it looked like he’d been sent to do battle with no armor at all. He had a thick white towel wrapped and tucked in at his waist, but her gaze wasn’t drawn downward, and her thoughts had shifted quite abruptly from his sublime seduction to tracing her fingers lightly over a puckered, circular scar just below his right collarbone. It was old, the skin shiny now. She moved to the long slash of a scar that bisected his ribs on the left side. It was old, too, judging by the color. There were others, some small, some not so small. Some smooth and surgically healed, others jagged, left to heal on their own.
She knew her eyes were wide when she lifted her gaze to his, and she didn’t want him to feel self-conscious, though she doubted he was the type to care. But seeing the scars brought home in a different way the danger he’d willingly put himself in—and these were just the visible scars. “Thank you,” she said, feeling humbled. “For . . . your service. Sawyer . . .” Her gaze went back to his shoulder. “That’s . . . from a bullet. Right?”
He nodded, then tipped her chin until she looked at him directly. “It’s okay. Aw, Sunny,” he murmured, when her eyes glassed over. “That’s done. I’m okay.” He framed her face with his hands. “You are very sweet, to feel what you’re feeling. It speaks well of you. A lot of men weren’t so lucky as me. I’m fortunate. Focus on that. I do.”
She sniffled, and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Right. Yes.”
He pulled her against him and just held her. She wrapped her arms around him, hugged him, a little fiercely. But her emotions were fierce in that moment.
He eased her away from him so he could look at her again. “You know one of the best reasons we do what we do?”
She shook her head.
“So we can come home and do this.” He kissed her. There was heat, and there was comfort, all wrapped up together, and she thought she should be the one giving comfort. “And this,” he said, pulling the elastics off the ends of her braids, then loosening up the strands so he could rake his fingers through them and shake them out. Then he sank his fingers into her hair and pulled her mouth up to his again. He edged her back, until she sank down on the side of the bed. He followed her down, angling his body half over hers, never breaking the kiss.
“This is the freedom we fight for, Sunny,” he said, turning to his side, pulling her with him. “Freedom to live where we want,” he said, kissing her cheek, her temple, her chin. “Freedom to do what we want.” He nipped at her lip, as he reached down to help her shimmy her shorts over her hips, kissing her as he helped her push them down her thighs, until she could kick them off. His towel came free when he rolled her to her back and moved his body over hers. His face was buried in her neck, and she was already moving under him, gripping his shoulders, when he murmured, “Loving who we want.”
Her heart stuttered even as it lurched, and she decided she’d think about that later, too. Because hearing him say those words, even though he probably meant nothing more than lovemaking, hadn’t scared her. No, it had thrilled her. Thrilled her. Down deep in some place she’d yet to connect to inside herself.
Her mind felt as if it had scattered into a million little thoughts and feelings and emotions. But then he was working his way down her body, and it was exactly what she wanted him to be doing. It was exactly what she wanted to be doing. Oddly enough, it was something Seth had told her that echoed through her mind, even as her body arched up almost violently when Sawyer closed his lips around one nipple.
Seth had said she couldn’t decide what she wanted until she had enough information to make an educated decision.
So she shoved all of her doubts and indecision and even the tantalizing prospect of what it would be like, to be loved by Sawyer Hartwell . . . all of that went to the wayside. And she focused on letting herself learn more. About him. And maybe herself along with it.
Then she’d decide what came next.
Chapter Sixteen
He should have put more wood in the stove last night. It was decidedly brisk inside the cabin that morning. He’d turned the oil lamps off sometime after three A.M., but hadn’t thought to load the stove. He’d been . . . distracted by other things. Wonderfully delicious, sensual, delectable things.
Sawyer rolled over and found Sunny sprawled on her back next to him. Her hair was a brown tangle on the pillow, more in a car wreck victim kind of way than a sexy bed head kind of way, and what little makeup she wore was still there, but no longer where it had started out. The sheet, blanket, and duvet were pulled up to her chin, where she held on to them in two tightly clenched fists, as if someone might steal them from her at any moment. And rather than having that angelic expression of peaceful sleep, she was snoring. Not too loudly, but steadily nonetheless.
He decided right then and there it must be love, because to him, every part of that was adorable.
He shifted as quietly as possible to the edge of the bed, intent on adding more wood to the stove, then a quick trip to the bathroom and his toothbrush.
He’d barely rolled an inch, when she murmured, “Sawyer?” and reached out blindly for him. Her eyes were still closed and he was pretty sure she was still asleep. He lay back down and her hand landed on his arm. She curled her fingers into his bicep, smiled, then scooted closer and snuggled farther down under the covers. A moment later, she was snoring again.
He wasn’t sure about anything at the moment, not how they’d make this work, or how he’d keep from barring the door so she’d never leave. Definitely not how he would sleep in this bed ever again without remembering every last second of what they’d done in it last night. What he was sure about was that he liked that she’d instinctively reached for him, even in sleep, and that knowing he was beside her comforted her.
He leaned down and kissed the small bit of forehead that was peeking out above the edge of the covers. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered.
She mumbled something, but didn’t say anything more when he slid her hand off his arm and slipped from the bed.
He was halfway through brushing his teeth, trying to decide how best to start the morning, when he heard her call out his name. And she was definitely not asleep.
“Sawyer! Did you see?”
He couldn’t tell if she sounded alarmed or excited. He quickly rinsed and wiped his mouth, then at the last second, for her sense of modesty, not his, he snagged a towel off the rack and wrapped it around his hips. He walked back out to the great room. “See what?” he asked.
He smiled when he saw she was sitting up in the middle of the bed now, sheet, blanket, and duvet pooled around her hips, completely unconcerned with her nakedness. So much for worrying about offending her delicate sense of modesty. He approved of her morning-after bedside manner. Heartily.
“That,” she said, pointing to the cabin’s side window, which faced the foot of the bed.
He reluctantly shifted his gaze away from her and looked outside. His mouth went slack.
“It snowed,” she said, sounding a little sleepy and a lot stunned. “Like . . . a lot.”
“I can see that.”
Her head swiveled toward him, eyes gleaming and alert now. “Oh, no! What about the lamb? And Bailey?”
“I’m sure they’re both fine, but we can call to check on them in a bit. It’s just past dawn. Still pretty early.” Though, likely, Addie was already up.
She looked upward. “Good thing you wrapped the roof.”
He nodded, thinking he was happy they were protected from the snow coming into the cabin, but he wasn’t so sure about the roof holding up under the weight of all that precipitation piled on top of it. He supposed it had been handling snowfall for many years, and the tarp would assist in the weight distribution, but he’d climb up and check on it later, nonetheless.
His more immediate concern was how this latest curveball from the universe would affect the course of that day. And the next.
“Is that normal up here? This much snow on the first day of November?”
“It’s a little early, but it’s been known to happen. I’m just surprised I missed the weather report. I didn’t even know there was a chance.” He looked from the window to her and the corner of his mouth lifted. “But I have been a little preoccupied.”
The most becoming shade of pink stained her cheeks and she finally gathered the sheet up to cover herself. That was adorable, too.
“You said you had men coming in early to help at the mill today.”
“I’ll get in touch with Will. He lives closest to the mill,” he told her. “He or Seth can direct the work happening there this morning.” He walked closer to the window. “Though I’m not so sure much will get done.”
The wind was howling a bit, but the sun was just peeking over the tops of the mountains and the sky was clear, so hopefully the dig out wouldn’t be too bad. “We’re at higher elevation here,” he said, “so the mill might not have been as affected. The valley probably didn’t get much of anything. That’s usually how snow season starts up here.”
He looked at the bed of his truck, but with the wind, it was hard to get a depth reading. “Uh-oh.”
“What ‘uh-oh’?” she asked, scrambling from the bed, then grabbing the duvet and pulling it around her like a cloak as she tiptoed over to him. “Brr. It’s chilly in here.”
“I forgot to re-load the stove last night. I just put more wood in, so it will warm up pretty fast now.”
She stood next to him facing the window. “Oh,” she gasped. “Will you look at that. It’s gorgeous,” she breathed. “It looks like a Currier and Ives painting out there. All you need is a horse-drawn sleigh.”
“Wait till you see the view off the back porch.”
“What was the uh-oh?” she asked, bouncing a little, probably due to bare feet on the chilly wood floor.
He pointed to the front of the cabin, where his truck was parked.
She followed his gesture, frowning, then covered her mouth as a spurt of laughter came out. “Oh, no.”
The open bed of the pickup was largely filled with snow, blown into drifts against the rear window by the wind. In the middle sat the wolf head from his costume. It had an . . . interesting vibe now.
“You’ve gone from Big Bad Wolf to Indomitable Snowman.”
“The rest of the costume is back there, too.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry.” She slid a hand out from her blanket and patted his back. “But look at it this way. Next year you have two costume options.”
“Those crinolines are looking better every moment,” he said, looking down into her smiling eyes. He’d been worried about how the “morning after” would go. Maybe he should thank Mom Nature for the timely distraction. “What about you? Anyone you need to call?”
She looked confused for a moment, then her expression cleared. “Oh! No. Well, not immediately anyway. I’m off today. I mean, I have things I’d like to get done. The presentation is coming up and I’ll be putting in longer than usual hours, and now there’s the paper.” She waved a hand. “But it’s not the end of the world if I get back later tonight.”
He glanced outside, then back at her. “We don’t exactly have county plowing up this way.”
She looked back outside, and her expression fell. “Oh.”
“Oh.”
“So, how do you get in and out of here? I mean, I’m assuming this will be a regular event for the next few months.”
“I put a big plow on the front of my truck. But at the moment, it’s sitting behind the mill. They were calling for a freeze warning, but like I said, I didn’t see anything about a storm. It can happen like that, though. Sometimes the snow hangs up on the other side of the range and it’s clear as a bell here while they’re getting hammered.” He nodded toward the window. “And sometimes the hammer swings this way.”
“So, what happens? I mean, I can probably scrape a little extra time off, but—do we have to wait for it to melt?”
He shifted his body so she was between him and the window. She turned to face him and he walked her back until the blanket pressed against the glass. “How much scrape time are we talking?”
She didn’t laugh and push him away, as he’d half expected her to. Instead she surprised him with a slow, seductive smile, and let the duvet drop to the windowsill, then slide to the floor. “Why do you ask?”
She really was perfect for him. He scooped her up, making her squeal. His needless modesty towel dropped to the floor as he carried her over and deposited her on the bed. He followed her down, climbing directly on top of her. He braced himself on his forearms while she squirmed under him. The gleaming gold irises of her eyes were being quickly swallowed up by the rapidly expanding pupils and her lips were already parted.
“Being as it’s so early and all,” he began, leaning down and nipping the side of her neck, making her gasp, “we probably should wait a bit,” he went on, drawing the tip of his tongue along her collarbone, then sliding his body down as he took the trail south. “We can call in the troops to get us out of here.” He slid down between her legs. “A little later,” he breathed, before parting her and sliding his tongue over her.
“Yes. Later.” She groaned, arching off the bed as she gathered a fist full of sheet in one hand, and a fist full of his hair in the other.
He chuckled, which made her shudder against his tongue. He did love a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it.
He’d learned many of her body’s secrets the night before, and a few more in the wee hours of this morning. He intended to build on that knowledge right now, and slid a finger inside of her as he suckled her into his mouth.
She came instantly, and she wasn’t quiet about it. He liked that about her, too. Having a cabin in the middle of nowhere was going to come in handy, he thought. Key word there being come.
He slid out of her, and worked his way back up her body. She was already grabbing his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin as she urged his body up and over hers. Something about that aggressiveness had him going from rigid to diamond hard. He grappled off the side of the bed for the string of condom packets that had oh-so-mercifully still been buried deep in his gear bag. He might have actually pouted when he saw they were down to the last two. He tore one off with his teeth, and thought, Oh well, there are other things we can do. The outdoor shower came to mind. Nothing like a steamy outdoor shower for two in the middle of a snow day. He’d pour hot water on the damn hose to thaw it out if he had to.
“Sawyer,” she urged.
“Demanding little shepherdess, you are,” he said, taking care of the condom, then kissing his way back up her body. “I like that about you.” He paused to spend some quality time on her nipples. Her breasts were small, but her lovely plump nipples more than made up for it.
She squirmed and shuddered, and begged him a little. Then she apparently got tired of waiting, because she hooked her ankle over his and surprised him by flipping him
over on his back.
He didn’t try all that hard to stop her. “You have a mean hook there, Peep,” he said with a grin. Then she straddled him and slid down over him . . . and his eyes threatened to roll right back into his head.
She leaned down and bit his earlobe as she moved on top of him. “My, my,” she whispered in his ear. “I see everything is big on this bad wolf.”
He would have laughed with her but she was too busy driving him screaming right to the edge, and with only one condom left, he wanted this time to last. He turned the tables, rolling her to her back. “This big bad wolf is going to be a spent wolf if we don’t slow it down.”
She made an exaggerated pout, then proved she’d been paying attention to his body last night as well, and crossed her ankles behind his back, pulling him in deeper . . . then tilting up, and—oh, God, deeper still—then clenching those sweet, amazing muscles of hers and—
His growl was deep, guttural, and supremely heartfelt as he shuddered through his release. When he slumped over her, barely catching his weight on his forearms, he found he had absolutely nothing to complain about.
She lifted her head and nipped his chin. “It’s kind of sexy when you lose control.” She beamed, seeming quite pleased. “I’m not unhappy I can do that to you.”
He could have told her she’d had him on the edge while sprawled on her back, snoring like a buzz saw, but the mischievous twinkle in her eye told him he might want to be careful letting her know just how far she’d already wrapped him up. He kissed her nose. “Then it’s a mutual admiration society.” Her cheeks turned pink again and the incongruity of that made him laugh.
Her eyes widened, which just made his chuckles deepen. She snagged a pillow and swatted him with it. “Off of me, beast.”
“Beast is it now,” he said, sliding off of her, but rolling her back to him when she tried to move away. He pulled her back tight against his chest, realizing the tactical error there when she merely pressed her sweet, sweet fanny right against his rapidly recovering . . . beast.
Blue Hollow Falls Page 25