Page 82 of Dream Weaver
I want you to stay,I burned to reply, but I couldn’t squeeze out the words.
“It’s nice,” was all I managed to croak.
We glanced around for a long, quiet minute, trying not to look directly at the bed pushed up against the opposite wall of the one-room cabin. The entrance was behind me, and a fireplace and kitchenette took up the remaining two sides. A beat-up sofa faced the hearth, and an old braided rug separated the areas of the house.
It needed updating, but it sure had character.
Cooper stepped to the fireplace, lit the kindling already set over the woodpile, and returned to me once it was crackling quietly.
“Nice,” I murmured, tossing my jacket over a chair. A bad move, maybe, because I didn’t know what to do with my hands after that.
My eyes slid to the bed, then back to Cooper. Where exactly did we start?
“Sorry. I’m a little out of practice,” I finally admitted.
He flashed a shy smile. “Me too.”
I snorted. “You’re talking to a former firefighter here. I’ve seen the groupies, believe me.”
Loneliness was not a common ailment among young, buff firefighters. Not on off-duty Friday nights, at least.
He shrugged. “Not my thing.”
“No?” I winced at an unwelcome thought. “What about what’s her name — Greta?”
His expression was one of stoic suffering. “My mom has been trying to get us together for years. That way, I can move innext door to my parents and live happily ever after, adding to their collection of adorable grandkids who grow up to become firefighters. Never mind that I’m not actually interested in Greta, or that Greta isn’t interested in me.”
“Hmm,” I mumbled, trying not to reserve judgment. But, yikes. How dumb was Greta?
Then I caught myself. How dumb was I for hemming and hawing when I had a chance at a very nice night?
I took a step closer, then another, keeping my eyes on his chest — an unmissable target that kept me focused.
My heart skipped, and my body heated just from the proximity.
“Greta’s not into firefighters, huh?” I whispered, resting my hands on his ribs.
“Not this one anyway.” His voice was a low rumble.
“Maybe when she discovers what an ace blacksmith you’ve become…”
He laughed, looping his arms around my shoulders. “An ace assistant, at best.”
The best,my soul whispered.
I raised my eyes to the level of his chin…his lips…his nose…and we eased into a kiss. That meant rolling to my toes and pressing against his chest.
Whoosh!Flames fanned through my veins.
Cooper smoothed his hands over my back, then cupped my head gently, deepening the kiss. And, wow. The man was a master of combiningsoftwithhardandgentlewithsheer power. Which fit, I supposed, for a man who could turn into a bear capable of killing — or cuddling.
His tongue brushed over mine, and when he ran a hand down my back and over my rear, I nearly moaned.
I ran my hands over the soft fabric of his shirt, exploring the hard planes of muscle underneath.
“Much as I love this shirt, it’s coming off.”
Still, I went on stroking, tracing the contours of his chest through the material, then sneaking my hands underneath.
