She kept searching his eyes, but the fear was gone from hers now, replaced by a kind of stunned joy. He drank that in as if he needed it to live, and maybe he did.
“So, let’s go buy a Christmas tree,” he said, trying and epically failing to reel it in. Because he swore what he felt was mirrored in her eyes, and he knew that he would never forget every single crystalline second of this moment. “And when you’re ready, I want to introduce you to the guys on my squad. We’re close and that won’t change despite my new job title, so you’ll be seeing them around. My sisters are dying—and I mean that in as scary and overwhelming a way as it sounds—to meet you. But they’re going to love you, so it’s not something you have to worry about. And we can go back and get your Christmas ornaments out and find some way to fumigate them so they can go on the tree, too.” He stopped, took a breath, shook his head, then grinned, full out. He thought his heart might leap straight out through his chest. “And this isn’t supposed to be all about me. I just . . . it can’t be not about you. Not anymore.”
She looked dazed, and more than a little overwhelmed. But the brilliant smile that slowly slid across her face told him it was in the very best of ways.
“Parker—Clara—”
She kissed him. His face in her hands, full on, no stopping, full steam ahead kissed him. And, for a moment, he simply let her.
She let one hand drop to his chest, and pressed her fingertips against his thundering heart. “Yes,” she said against his lips.
He lifted his head just a fraction. “Yes?”
“Yes. I’ll buy a Christmas tree with you.” She kissed him again. “And yes, I’ll meet your squad guys.” Another kiss. “And your sisters. Which you’d better be right, because it’s four against one and I was an only child, so I’m already terrified.” Then she pulled his head down and met his gaze deeply, fully . . . and he watched as she fell all the way in. No guard, no walls. And his heart went tumbling right after.
“And yes,” she said, more quietly this time, “to home. To hearth. To laughing together.” Her smile twisted a little. “Although maybe not so much with baking.”
He chuckled, her eyes twinkled, and that warm buzz, that intimate connection they had, brought every part of him to aching attention.
She dropped a single kiss on his lips. “Yes, to you,” she whispered. “To us.”
He groaned, and felt the tension ease from his body as he pulled her fully onto his lap, and sank into a kiss so deep, so carnal, so . . . committed, he didn’t care that they were parked in front of his station house, or that any moment the fire alarms could go off—which would so be Parker’s luck—and every guy he’d ever worked with would see him making out in the cab of his truck.
Because he was her guy. And she was his girl. That’s all that mattered.
“Can I ask you a favor?” she said, breathless as he worked his way along her jaw.
“Anything.”
“Can we do the tree thing later?”
It thrilled him to hear that same need in her voice. He lifted his head and grinned at her.
“Wow. That is one wicked grin you have there.”
“Tree?” he said, taking in her own eyes, glittering now with a need that matched his own. “What tree?” His voice was rough, dark, but she wasn’t put off by it. If he was any judge, quite the opposite. He’d be the gentle lover perhaps. Someday. But not today.
“I think we need to be somewhere a little more private,” she murmured.
“We can be home in fifteen minutes.”
“Home sounds good. Really good.”
Home. The idea that they were both talking about the same place, and that it didn’t seem to scare her, in fact, it sounded like it thrilled her, only amped things up further. And the idea that she wasn’t going to be sleeping in the guest room any longer—“You know, I think I can get us there in ten.”
Chapter 10
He’d broken numerous safety and traffic laws and probably cashed every karmic chip he had, but they made it back to the cabin in one piece. Which was a miracle when you considered he’d barely been able to keep his eyes on the road. Thank God for muscle memory.
He slid out of the truck, then slipped his arms around Parker and pulled her out through his open door, keeping her tucked next to his chest.
“I know I should be all independent woman and demand that you let me walk on my own two feet.” She looped her arms around his neck and rested her cheek on his jacket. “But I have to say this whole being carried thing is the only time I’ve felt, well, okay, not petite, exactly, but . . .” She snuggled closer and let that speak for her.
He leaned down so his lips were next to her ear as he carried her to the front door. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”
In their frenzied tear up the mountain, he’d envisioned them racing into the cabin, clawing off clothes and boots as they went, and falling into his bed, pretty much like the wild animal he’d become when he’d backed his truck out of the station house lot.
But having her in his arms, the feel of her cheek pressed to his heart, slowed everything down, way down, until it was like he could feel each individual beat. And they were tapping out the words “don’t screw this up, don’t screw this up.”
He’d convinced her to risk moving forward, he’d pretty much bared his soul, and there she was, happily snuggled against his chest as he made it up the front stone steps and across the wide, snow-blown porch. That should have been the hard part, the big hurdle. Getting her to agree to try.
So why, as he unlocked the door and carried her over the proverbial threshold, did it feel like that hardest part hadn’t even begun yet? It wasn’t about the sex, or whether they’d be a good fit, or if he’d find out how to please her. He’d quite happily make that his mission in life.
It was more than that, bigger than that. He hadn’t laid himself bare just to get her in bed. And, for the first time, he felt a little of the terror she must have felt. Okay, maybe a lot. She’d tried and failed at past relationships. He hadn’t even tried.
He stepped into his house with her in his arms, and he felt his stomach drop like he’d just stepped out on a crumbling ledge. Because along with the absolute and utter confidence that she was the one came the kind of fear and vulnerability he had only felt one other time in his life. When he’d come home after his father’s sudden death, looking at a whole new life plan, one that included helping his four sisters find their way, both through their grief and onward from there, as well as helping his mother find her way to the end of her own path. He’d been terrified pretty much all of the time back then.
Some would think running into burning buildings was scary, but after facing that, fighting fires was easy by comparison. That was science, physics, a world he understood.
He realized now that with his mother gone and his sisters launched, he’d grown comfortable living in that world. The idea of letting someone in, letting someone matter? Other than his sisters, his teammates on the squad? Yeah, that was a place he now realized he’d spent the past nine years avoiding at all costs. Until Parker had strolled into the bookstore and changed everything with a single klutzy stumble.
He’d used the obligation of family, and then the danger of his job, as his excuses to keep new relationships at arm’s length—all valid, rational reasons to his mind. He knew at some point he’d have to consider what else he wanted from life. Did he want a partner, did he want children, did he want to risk loving, which meant possibly losing again? He just . . . never had.
Only now, as he slid Parker from his arms, keeping her close as her feet touched the floor, keeping his gaze steadily on hers . . . he couldn’t think about anything but that.
He wondered for the first time if maybe she’d been right to worry. He’d never even considered it, so certain exploring their relationship was the right thing to do. Was he following his heart . . . or following the path of least resistance? He wouldn’t have to think, wouldn’t have to consider . . . he co
uld simply pick up where he’d left off with her. He knew her, trusted her . . . felt safe with her. Yet another comfortable world for him to inhabit.
So, was it fair for him to wade into the deep end for the first time ever and risk taking her under with him if he couldn’t manage it after all?
“Will? What’s wrong? Oh God, you’re having second thoughts.”
“Yes. I mean no! No. Not about you.”
“But about something.”
Mind still racing, heart racing, he braced for the hysterics, knowing he’d deserve every last shriek and curse.
Instead he felt her chilly palm brace his cheek as she turned his gaze back to hers. To his surprise, she smiled. “You look . . . poleaxed. Which is kind of how I feel. So if we need to take a step back, go buy a tree, have a dinner or two out, then—”
“That’s not it.”
He was trying not to hurt her, that was the whole point of taking a moment, and yet, from the devastated look that flashed through her eyes just then, he’d managed to do just that. “No, no, Parker, listen. I just—I realized that I’m promising you the moon, wanting my cake, the icing, and half the bakery, all of which I’d give willingly to you. The thing is, I was telling the truth when I said I haven’t done this before. But, unlike you, I’ve never even tried.” He pulled her into his arms, needing the closeness, needing . . . her. “I don’t want to promise you anything that I can’t deliver.”
“Do you want to? Keep the promise?”
“More than I knew I could want anything.”
She smiled and tipped up on her toes just enough to kiss him. “Then that’s all that matters. I know there aren’t any guarantees. Life has taught both of us that hard lesson. But that’s not what I was worried about. It was intention, and thoughtfulness, and wanting the same things, small picture and big.”
“That we have.”
“Then that’s where we start.”
And just like that, his heart settled. Everything settled, as if that last empty, known hole in his orbit had been filled. She’d stumbled into his life . . . and set everything back on the right path.
He slid a wide palm behind her slender neck, tipping her mouth up to his. “How did you get so smart?”
“Well, there was this guy I met in college . . . he taught me everything I needed to know about what a real relationship should be. It just took me a little while to figure that out.”
This time, when he took her mouth, it wasn’t simply the thrill of discovering the long awaited answer to a young man’s fantasy . . . it was the beginning of a whole new journey. “Parker—Clara—”
“Parker’s good.”
He grinned against her mouth, then gently nipped her bottom lip. “Why yes, Parker certainly is. Question is, can Parker also be a little bad?”
She giggled, and there might have been a little snort in there. “What, and risk ticking Santa off this close to the big day?”
“Honey, I’m pretty sure that list is about a whole different kind of naughty.”
“Pretty sure?”
He lifted his head enough to look into her eyes. “Do you trust me?”
Her smile was slow, her nod even slower, the twinkle in her eyes revealing a whole new shade of wicked that turned him on and maybe even scared him a little. In the best of ways.
“You’ll save me if you’re wrong, right? Rescue Ranger?”
He barked out a laugh even as he was pretty sure he might split the zipper on the front of his jeans. He hauled her up and over his shoulder, making her splutter in laughter and maybe a little indignation. “What are you—”
“This is how we rangers rescue damsels in distress, ma’am.” He crossed the living room on the way to the master bedroom, and ran a wide palm up the back of one of her legs, pausing with his fingertips just stroking her inner thigh. He felt her quiver, heard her soft moan. “Would you be in distress, ma’am?”
“Oh—yes. Indeed, I believe I am, kind sir. Deep, deep, distress.” Her voice had gone all throaty, with just a hint of southern belle.
Note to self: be careful playing games with Parker. She’s pretty damn good at it.
Her hand snaked down his back and tucked around his buttocks, which she squeezed . . . then stretched to reach even further.
Correction: very damn good.
He laid her across his bed and followed her down, propping elbows on either side of her shoulders. “See? Soft landing. You’re safe.”
She eyed him and that wicked glint hadn’t eased up a bit. “Really?”
“Any distress you may still be experiencing . . . well, I will make it my personal mission to see that all your suffering is . . . eased.”
She ruffled her fingers in his hair. “Just . . . promise me one thing.”
“Done.”
She nudged him, smiled. “You haven’t heard it yet.”
He just smiled.
“Mmm. Did I mention confidence is very sexy on you?” she asked.
It was on her, too. Damn sexy. “What’s the one thing?”
She cupped his cheek, and, on closer inspection, behind that devilish twinkle, was a hint of vulnerability that tugged at him, hard. Painfully hard. He didn’t ever want to do anything to earn that look.
“Promise me that if you feel yourself looking for a way out, for any reason . . . just tell me. Straight out, okay?”
“Okay.”
Her smile was soft, sweet, and he hated that she still felt worried about him. Except he knew it was smart, and right, to be that way. Then the corner crooked up a little, and she added, “I mean, sure, it will still crush me to poor, pathetic smithereens, but at least I’ll know I can trust that you’ll always be honest with me. About everything.”
He dipped in and kissed the tender place on her lip where she nibbled when worried. Soothed it a little, as he’d been aching to do for days now. “I’ll always take very good care of every last one of your smithereens. I promise.” He kissed along the side of her jaw. “But I think I’d be better prepared to take care of said smithereens if I actually had a chance to, you know, inspect them.” He dropped a kiss on the pulse in her neck, nipped her earlobe. “Catalog them.” He traced his tongue along the sensitive rim of her ear, earning a shiver and a provocative hip wriggle underneath him. “Inventory every—” He tugged his hoodie off over her head and tossed it aside, then leaned in and kissed her collarbone, before running his hands down her torso and pulling up the white tee she wore underneath. He pulled that up, too, then slid down to kiss the soft spot next to her navel. “Last—” He slid the T-shirt up higher, slowly revealing her bare breasts. “One.”
Chapter 11
“Good idea,” Clara gasped, her hips lifting of their own volition. “Wouldn’t want you to—” She sucked in a breath as he ran his hands up her torso and rubbed his thumbs over her nipples. Her still oh-so-desperate nipples. “—miss a smither.”
He shifted up so her legs parted and he could settle between them, then leaned his mouth down next to her ear. “I’m a scientist,” he whispered roughly. “I’m trained never to miss a smither.”
“Oh, thank God.”
He started to work his way back down her body, tugging the tee up and off. “Will—” Usually at the first “unveiling” Clara always made some hopefully pithy comment about her nonexistent breasts, mostly to beat her partner to the punch. But whatever she might have said to him was lost on a short gasp, then a very long, heartfelt moan. Will had bypassed her utter lack of cup-size and gone right to what she did have: nipples. Oh so very needy nipples. And, as proclaimed, he didn’t miss a single smither.
She was writhing under him as he worked his way down her torso, clever fingers still keeping her nipples aching and wanting as his mouth and tongue found new territory to explore. She’d spent an inordinate amount of time the past week imagining what getting naked with Will would be like. She wished she hadn’t spent most of it worrying about how not to make it awkward or weird, having sex with someone who had been a go
od friend . . . because there was nothing at all awkward about this. It was . . . perfect. Precisely because it was Will.
And it was already the most erotic lovemaking she’d ever experienced. Splayed across his old quilt, in his big, baggie sweats and—oh . . . no. Desperate nipples was one thing, not even a bad thing, by sex standards. But . . . there were some buzzkills that even Will’s already proven mastery of the smither couldn’t overcome.
She wove her fingers through that thick thatch of blonde hair and none-too-gently tugged his head up, just as his tongue was about to dip past the drawstring waistband. “Will.”
He chuckled against the soft skin of her stomach, the sound so rough and sexy she almost pushed his head right back down again and to hell with awkward underwear.
“No patience,” he murmured, dropping hot little kisses around her navel.
She urged him upward, but he was having none of that.
“Ten years, Parker. Don’t I get to explore a little?”
There was something about the way he said her name, about it being a name only he called her, that drove her a little closer to that sweet edge. And in the moment it took to think that, he dipped under the waistband of her sweatpants, and . . . laughed.
“Well,” he said, devilish glee clear in his voice. “Hello, Kitty.” He looked up at her, brown eyes dancing. “Somewhat appropriate when you think about it.”
She swatted at his head, but had to stifle a snicker. “It was in your guest room dresser in a plastic-wrapped three pack. And the fact that I didn’t ask you about it shows enormous restraint on my part, I think.”
The Sugar Cookie Sweetheart Swap Page 12