Chapter 15

Steve went still, and Camille felt a horrible, sinking dread. Had she misread him? Did he not want her as desperately as she wanted him? The evening had been endless and painful—at least the singing part—but Steve had made it so much better. He’d held her hand and snickered at her whispered comments and squeezed her fingers against his side when she’d taken his arm, and every little contact had added fuel to the fire burning inside her until it’d felt like one more touch would either make her combust or melt into a drippy puddle at his feet.

When he’d stopped her from going upstairs with the kids, when he’d wrapped an arm around her and kissed her hand and run his fingers along her sides, leaving trails of sparking heat in their wake, she’d been sure that he felt the same aching need that had been building in her since she first saw him back in Borne Market.

Now, however, as she waited for him to move or speak, to somehow respond to her question, she doubted her interpretation of every moment from that point on. She’d thought he’d been flirting, that he’d been as intrigued as she was, but what did she know? She was a socially inept, homeless sort-of-hermit who’d barely left Borne, and he was Steve-freaking-Springfield, with his perfect hair and strong body and calm competency and his habit of saving lives and putting out fires and rearing wonderfully interesting children and looking insanely hot in bunker gear and—

Steve kissed her, hard.

It was her turn to be taken off guard. She’d been so caught up in her chaotic thoughts that it took a moment to realize that his mouth was on hers, and he was kissing her with a ferocious intensity that laid every one of her worries to rest.

He did want her—badly. She could feel it in the tightness of his muscles and the almost frantic pressure of his kiss. When he slid his hands down her sides to grip her hips, yanking her against him, she could tell in another, more obvious way as well.

Then he lifted her, picking her off the ground with ease, his lips never leaving hers. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him closer. With his hands free, he roved over her back and down her thighs, exploring and possessing her at the same time.

Tangling her arms around his neck, she tightened her legs, once again overcome with the need to get as close as possible. She made a sound of protest when he pulled his mouth away, but the line of nibbling kisses down her throat more than made up for the loss of his lips on hers. Tilting her head back to give him better access, she moaned as heat built in her, fueled by his mouth on her neck and the press of their bodies.

As the sound reached her ears, a small, still-functioning corner of her brain couldn’t believe that needy, almost feral noise had come from her. She’d never thought that she’d feel the fiery, mind-stealing, overwhelming passion that she’d read about in books. She’d bounced between figuring that it was a made-up thing, something no real person ever experienced, and thinking it was reserved for a lucky few—a group that definitely would never include her.

She’d been so wrong. This was hers. The so-good-that-it-almost-hurt sensation of Steve lightly scoring her neck with his teeth before he soothed the spot with his tongue belonged to her—and so did he. A ferocious wave of hungry possession crashed over her, and she tightened her grip on him, needing to keep him there with her. She’d never been able to keep anyone she loved, but she was determined that she wouldn’t lose Steve. He was hers now, and she was never going to let go.

He tumbled her back onto a soft surface, and she realized that he’d been walking them into the moonlight-filled den as they kissed. She’d been so caught up in the feel of his lips and teeth and tongue on her skin that she hadn’t even noticed them moving. When Steve tried to pull back, she clung to him, and he gave a throaty chuckle that dialed her desire up even more.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered, giving her a hard, needy kiss on the mouth. Reluctantly, she released him, watching through lust-dazed eyes from the sofa bed as he closed and locked the study door before turning on the light.

The kids, she remembered, glad that one of them had the presence of mind to not get down and dirty on the kitchen floor when his four children were sleeping upstairs. Instead of returning to her immediately, he moved to the heavy wood desk and rummaged in the very back of the bottom drawer.

Her mind was clearing of the fog his kisses had left her in, and she pushed herself up to get a better view. “What are you looking for?” she asked, trying to see around him to the contents of the drawer. It looked like it was filled with hanging file folders, and she couldn’t imagine what records or documents would help them at this particular moment.

In answer, Steve pulled out a small box and held it up triumphantly. “I knew I had some in there,” he said with satisfaction, tossing the container to her as he shut the drawer with his foot. She fumbled the unexpected catch, and the box landed in her lap. When she saw what it was, she gave a laughing snort, which she immediately regretted. Snorting wasn’t going to fuel Steve’s lust for her. But still, who kept condoms in with their files?

“Is this for when you get randy with your accountant?” she teased, and another unfortunate snort slipped out before she could stop it. She mentally scolded herself, both for the pig noises and for mentioning his accountant—and the word randy. If he became completely turned off and left her hanging, she’d have no one to blame but herself.

He laughed, but it had a rough edge to it. Lifting her up, he tossed her farther back on the bed, and she bit back a surprised squeal. She found it shockingly arousing how easily he picked her up, her weight barely straining the muscles of his solid arms and chest. It wasn’t just his physical strength that made him so attractive, but also his ability to deal with the crises and day-to-day drama of the ranch and his kids and the fire department with a steady, unruffled calm.

“No. Richard isn’t my type. I just figured it’s the one spot where the kids wouldn’t stumble over them.”

“You don’t want them to know that their dad has sex?” she asked, honestly curious. She’d never considered the issues of dating as a single parent until she’d gotten to know Steve and his family.

He gave a wry grimace. “More that I’d come home to find a bunch of condoms blown up like balloons.”

The mental image made her laugh, although it didn’t seem quite accurate. “Balloons? No. With your kids, you’d be more likely to come home to find they’d been incorporated into an art project or used to fix a fan belt or something.”

He chuckled even as he cringed. “That’s unnervingly accurate.” When he picked up the box and looked at the side, Camille snickered.

“Reading the directions?” she asked innocently.

With a mock-snarl, he dropped the box on the bed and pounced. Straddling her hips with his knees, he began tickling her, making her giggle and squirm beneath him. “No, smarty-pants.” He paused, looking a little sheepish. “I’m checking the expiration date. It’s…” He cleared his throat. “It’s been a while. Not to, ah, bring down the mood, but after Karen died, I was focused on the kids. Even after some time passed, I didn’t want to bring anyone into their lives who’d leave them. They’d had enough loss. Keeping things separate doesn’t really work that well, so it became easier just to…do without.” He gave her a quick, almost bashful glance. “Until you. I don’t want to do without you.”

Her amusement slipped away as she looked up at him. “I’m so glad.”

“Me, too.”

They exchanged a smile as heat started building in Steve’s gaze again. Camille’s breath caught in her chest as he slowly lowered his upper body toward hers, his biceps bulging with the effort of holding his weight. She wasn’t sure where to look; every part of him was so entrancing. Her gaze moved from his arms to his chest to his parted lips—lingering there for an extra beat—to his square, stubbled jaw to his eyes. Although she enjoyed looking at each part of him, his heavy-lidded eyes were her favorite, since they expressed so clearly how irresistible he found her to be.

Then his lips were on hers again, and she was lost, reveling in the feel of him—his exploring mouth and his weight pressing her down into the mattress and his hands finding all the spots that she didn’t even know were sensitive until now. They kissed for what felt like hours, until her arousal had built to the point that she felt like she’d go up in flames if she couldn’t feel his skin against hers.

She yanked up his shirt, wanting it gone and not willing to wait until he’d unfastened all the buttons. He jerked it over his head, oblivious to the pop of buttons flying off and even the rip of a seam giving way. His T-shirt came off even faster, and then Camille was faced with the most beautiful chest she’d ever seen. She could hardly believe it was hers to explore.

She ran her hands over him, feeling the wiry layer of hair and the silk of his skin over hard muscle, clenching and releasing under her touch. His audible inhales and groans as she found a sensitive spot made her feel powerful, and she especially liked the way he reacted when she kissed his breastbone. As she ran her tongue over a flat nipple, he hissed, his back arching at the sensation.

It was as if he couldn’t take any more of her explorations. His mouth found hers again with an extra edge of frantic desperation, kissing and licking and nipping at her equally needy lips. They yanked and pulled and sometimes even tore until they were both completely free of their clothes.

The first time Steve’s naked body pressed full-length against hers was branded into her head, and she knew she’d remember even the most minor details of that moment for the rest of her life. From the way his breath caught and he went rigid against her, she knew that he felt the same way.

After a perfect, frozen moment, they both snapped back into action. Camille needed more—more of his mouth on hers and more of his hands on her skin. Their kisses grew wilder and their touches bolder, their explorations of each other gaining more and more of a desperately needy edge.

She tasted the salt on his throat as he groaned against her ear, and she felt the sound of his pleasure all the way to her toes. He left her for a moment, kneeling above her and grabbing for the abandoned box at the foot of the bed. It was only seconds before he was stretched over her again, not even enough time for her hot, sweaty skin to cool, but it was still too long for her liking.

Wrapping her arms and legs around him, she held him tightly as he entered her. He felt just as she’d expected—as if he belonged inside her, the two of them connected intimately, fitting together in every way possible. He kissed her as they started to move, quickly finding a rhythm that made them both gasp and groan.

As pleasure built inside her, an incredible tension taking hold of her muscles, she felt that same sense of unreality from before. How could she be so lucky to be feeling this much, to be experiencing such a flood of wonderful emotions and sensations, to have found such a connection with this ridiculously perfect man? How had she gone from her solitary, ordinary life to being so intertwined with Steve? It seemed too good, too incredible, to be true.

Her arms and legs tightened, pulling him in more deeply. Even if it was a fantasy, some realistic daydream that had gotten out of hand, it didn’t matter. She was going to savor every second she had with Steve, wallow in every touch and kiss, every bit of pleasure he offered her.

Her thoughts started to blur around the edges as he moved faster, driving her closer to her climax with every stroke. Clinging to him, she broke their kiss and buried her face into his neck, breathing in his scent of peppermint and pine and sweaty, sexy man.

As she came, her orgasm rocketing through her, pleasure filling every place inside her, she cried out, calling his name against his skin. His muffled shout followed hers as he held himself deep inside her, his body rock hard against her own. She lifted her head to watch him as his eyes closed and his face grew tight, and she felt like she’d never grow tired of this—of him.

Gradually, her tension started to seep away, her tight muscles releasing their hold as pleasure continued to ripple through her. For a heady, bliss-filled moment, Steve let his weight press her into the mattress, and she felt safe and secure under the cover of his heavy form. Too soon, he rolled to the side. His groan turned to a chuckle as she moved with him, reluctant to lose the connection she’d just found.

Turning over again, he tucked her beneath him and pushed up to his elbows so his full weight wasn’t flattening her. “It’ll be just for a second. I’ll be right back,” he said, affection clear in his voice. Pressing a quick kiss to her lips, he started to move off of her—only to return for another kiss.

His second groan was deeper and dramatic enough to make her laugh. He kissed her nose, her cheek, under her jaw, and then her ear when she scrunched her shoulder up and turned her head to hide a ticklish spot. Leaving her giggling breathlessly, he got up to toss the condom in the trash and turn off the light before jumping back into bed. Grabbing hold of her, he tugged her across the bed into his arms. She tickled him where she’d just discovered he was very, very sensitive, and he jerked in response.

“Really?” His pretend annoyance was ruined by the amusement in his voice. “You think you can beat me in a tickle war?” He retaliated, finding her weak spots with precise accuracy. She obviously wasn’t the only one who’d learned from their mutual exploration earlier. When she couldn’t breathe from laughing so hard, she begged for mercy.

“Say it,” he prodded her, ceasing his attacks and gathering her against him, spooning her so her back was against his front.

“Fine.” Her huff was broken by a hiccup of laughter. “You’re the king of Tickle Town.”

“Your Majesty,” he prompted, and she snorted. She liked tussling with playful Steve. It was a side of him that she hadn’t really seen before. Normally, he was too mature for his own good.

“Your Majesty,” she parroted, squirming around to get comfortable and nudging her hips back against him to get a reaction. She succeeded.

“Camille…” His growl made parts of her melt and other parts tighten in anticipation.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” She wiggled again, and he caught her hip, pressing more tightly against her for a breathless moment before he released the pressure and wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Little devil,” he grumbled, sounding completely and utterly satisfied. She couldn’t stop her proud grin at knowing she’d done that to him. They felt silent, and sleepiness gradually crept over Camille, but all her parts not pressed against Steve’s warmth were starting to get chilly, and the pullout bed’s support bar was digging into the side of her thigh.

She heard Steve’s breathing deepen, and she started shifting toward the edge of the bed. The arms around her tightened immediately.

“Stay with me,” he said in a sleepy grumble.

“On one condition,” she said. Tension tightened her belly, and she almost hesitated to say the words. It seemed like a big step, one that would shift their relationship to a whole new level. “We go upstairs to your real bed.”

He froze, and she knew he was aware of just what she was asking. “You’re sure you want this?”

She wanted to keep Steve more than anything else in her life. “Yes.”

He was off the bed and standing before she even finished answering. “I’m all for that.” Grabbing his pants, he tugged them on.

Shaking off the distracting knowledge that Steve was going commando, even if it was just for the short trip upstairs, Camille narrowed her eyes at him. “I thought you said this sofa bed was comfortable, you liar.”

“I didn’t want you to feel bad about stealing my bed.” He grinned, the satisfaction in it clear despite the dim room. “I’m really glad we’re going to be sharing it now.”

Leaning over, he gave Camille a lingering kiss. When he pulled away, she stared at him, heated and dazed, marveling at how quickly he could get her desperate and wanting.

“Yeah,” she said, her gaze on his mouth. “I’m glad, too.”

* * *

For the first time in almost a week, something besides nightmares about the fire woke her. She opened her eyes to see Steve’s muscular and naked backside sliding out of bed, and she smiled. This was so much better than being startled awake by images of flames and choking smoke.

“Hey,” she said softly, her voice husky with sleep. Stretching, she rolled until she could see the clock on the nightstand. “You’re up early.”

The moonlight made interesting shadows on her face, but she could tell he was smiling as he leaned in for a gentle kiss. It was so nice that she didn’t even think about the possibility of morning breath until his lips left hers.

Straightening, he moved to his dresser and began to pull out some clothes. “I go snowshoeing with Will every morning before school. You’re right, though. It is early. Try to get some more sleep.” After pulling on long underwear that molded to his muscular form, he glanced over his shoulder at her. Even though his expression was hidden by the dim light, she just knew he was giving her a wonderfully satisfied smirk. “I kept you up pretty late.”

“Nuh-uh,” she said through a yawn that more than proved his point. “I kept you up late.”

This time, she didn’t need to guess at his expression, because he laughed out loud, albeit softly. “Yeah, you did. It was worth it, although it was hard getting out of bed this morning. I think that was your fault, too.”

She really loved this flirty, playful side of Steve. Flipping off the covers, she offered her best seductive-beast pose. “I am a temptress.”

With a fleece top pulled halfway over his head, he froze for a second, and she had a sudden worry that the comment had been too dorky. Yanking his shirt down, he strode over to the bed and kissed her hard again, more intensely this time. By the time he pulled back, they were both panting for breath.

“Yeah, you are. I’ve never been so tempted by anyone. If Will wasn’t waiting for me…” Making a sound low in his throat, he turned away. Giving her frequent, hungry glances, he finished getting dressed and disappeared into the bathroom. As soon as he was gone, Camille felt a bit let down and lonely…as well as wide awake. She stretched again, pulling up the covers and closing her eyes in an attempt to regain the peaceful sleep she’d had before Steve, but his kisses and flirtatious banter had gotten her heart beating too fast to doze off again. Besides, she didn’t want to fall asleep just to have one of her terrifying dreams.

Even though she’d escaped physically unscathed from her burning workshop, the experience played through her mind over and over when she tried to rest. It was usually the same, but somehow even worse than reality. She was lost in the flames and thick, choking smoke, searching fruitlessly for Lucy—except when she was searching the fiery room for Lucy and Steve and the kids. No matter how many times she’d had the dreams, they always made her feel as helpless and terrified as the very first one.

The bathroom door opened, and Camille looked toward it, eager to be distracted from her dark thoughts. Steve did exactly that by coming over for a final not-so-quick kiss.

“Be careful,” she said once they’d managed to separate. “Don’t run into any moose or serial killers.”

“Both of those are pretty rare here on the ranch, but I’ll keep an eye out.” With a final short but still steamy kiss, he slipped out into the hall, closing the door silently behind him.

With thoughts of nightmares clashing with the warm comfort Steve’s kisses inspired, Camille was more awake than ever. Throwing off the covers, she quickly dressed, shivering in the chill of the room. No sense in lying in bed, awake and restless. Shoving aside her lingering memories of the fire, she headed downstairs to start making breakfast for everyone.