As Nick pulled his truck to a stop in front of her cabin, Emma found that she didn’t know quite what to do.
The ride from the hiking trail had been short, but they’d spent it in silence, besides her telling him where she was staying. She wanted to say something—needed to, even—but couldn’t quite decide what.
She knew that he was as attracted to her as she was to him, so why had he pulled back after that amazing kiss? She’d been feeling so confident, but now she was wondering if he regretted kissing her.
Nick wasn’t speaking, either, and when he pulled the key from the ignition, killing the noise of the engine, the stillness was suddenly a deafening roar that she could no longer stand.
“Thank you for the ride.” She snuck a sidelong glance at him. He’d shifted in his seat to look at her, and he huffed out a breath of exasperation when he saw her reaching for the door handle.
“Can’t give you even an inch, can I?” Within moments he was out of the truck, at her door. “Why would I haul you off that trail only to make you teeter across the ice in stupid shoes with an injured ankle?”
“You really don’t have to carry me.” Her protest was completely ignored as he hooked his arms beneath her and lifted. She knew better than to argue about her shoes—he was right. Italian leather and incredibly stylish they might be, but in this weather, they were also incredibly foolish.
“Seems that the only way to stop you from doing something ridiculous is to do just that.” He smirked down at her, and Emma frowned. If anyone else had said this to her she might have been insulted, but it seemed that this was just Nick’s way—he liked to tease.
No one else in her life really did that.
She liked it.
“Thank you again,” she said as he pulled the old-school metal key from her hand and unlocked the door to the cabin. He closed the door behind them before slowly lowering her to the floor in a way that gave her a new appreciation of the muscles she’d been admiring. “The light…the switch is just over there.”
She pointed to the wall, faltering when she looked up. He was watching her again with that intensity in his gaze, his arms still wrapped around her. The only light in the cabin came from the pale late afternoon rays filtering in through the window and the multicolored strings overhead. It was an odd combination, rainbows and shadow on his skin.
“I don’t need the light. I can see,” he said as he pointed overhead. Puzzled, she looked where he indicated.
Caught on one of the bulbs of the holiday lights overhead was a hank of plastic mistletoe that she hadn’t noticed earlier. The shiny green leaves and the promise of what they meant kick-started her pulse.
“I—” She wasn’t sure what she was going to say; maybe she’d tell him that she hadn’t put the mistletoe there, hadn’t planned this. Her words were cut off when Nick caught the length of her ponytail in one hand and claimed her lips with his.
Have mercy. This kiss wasn’t like the first, where they’d been slow and unsure. This time Nick’s free hand skimmed her torso down to her waist, tugging her flush against his body. A gasp escaped her as his mouth moved, fast and deep and sure.
This time when she parted for him, his tongue swept inside to explore. His touches were bold, sure where she was not, filling a well she hadn’t realized was empty.
This. She hadn’t known she could feel like this, hot and cold and up and down and sharp and soft. With his lips on hers, there wasn’t room for any worries, any stress, any pain, just him.
When he moaned and pressed her more tightly against himself, the heat spread, moving down through her body in lovely liquid pulses.
She wanted this.
She wanted him.
She’d never had a fling. Never thought she’d want to, but right then all she could do was chase the heat, the spark Nick had lodged inside of her that was slowly warming her from the inside out.
Stay.
She wanted to tell him to do just that, to climb into the wide bed in the rented cabin and to thaw the last of the ice she’d carried with her from Georgia.
She didn’t know how. Instead, she blurted out the first thing that popped into her mind. “My father doesn’t have to know.”
“What?” Nick pulled abruptly from the kiss. His hair was a mess from her fingers, but his expression when he blinked down at her was startled. “Say that again?”
“No, never mind.” Her skin flushed crimson as he stared down at her, incredulous. “That was a stupid thing to say. I ruined the mood. I’m sorry, I’m just…I’m not good at this.”
She waved her hand to emphasize her point.
“No,” Nick said as he backed away slowly. He ran both hands over his face, a pained noise sounding from somewhere deep in this chest. “This is…I need to go.”
She collapsed inwardly—why had she opened her mouth? As his expression filled with displeasure, though, she wondered what was running through his mind, because his staccato movements and gritted teeth seemed a bit more dramatic than the situation called for.
Her mouth opened to ask what was wrong, because clearly it wasn’t just the stupid thing she’d said.
The door opened, bringing with it the chill of the air outside. And she had to swallow her question back down, because Nick was gone.