She rose as well. “No. I understand. You have to help. That’s what you do. Can you wait one quick second?”
“Of course.”
She hurried into the kitchen and tossed several brownies into a plastic bag then ran back to his side. “Take these for later. Who knows when you’ll get a break.”
He palmed the bag before placing it in his pouch. “Thank you. Can I see you again?”
“Yes, please.”
He reached out and brushed the hair behind her ear, following the shell down to her neck, lightly skimming the sensitive flesh with the hot pads of his fingers.
All the air left her lungs and she swayed into his touch as pulses of electricity zipped along her skin, tightening her nipples and turning her thighs to jelly. God, those light touches were so addictive.
Cam gasped and his fingers tightened on her shoulder. “Ah, Fiona. You make it difficult to leave. I grieve over the night we could have had.”
What? What did you have in mind and can it still happen?
She swallowed her tongue and tried for her most serene smile. “Good luck and be careful.”
His hand fell away as he moved toward the door. An arctic chill swept through the house when he opened the door, yet it was the impending loneliness of him leaving that chilled her to the bone.
“I have to.” She heard him mutter before he spun back around and cupped her face in his palms, stilling her for the descent of his mouth.
He kissed like he was built. Strong and hot, like the richest molten cocoa. The cold was banished as his big arms enveloped her in his heat and pressed her against the hard length of his body. His hips ground into the softness of her belly, making her whimper. Good gravy, was he hard.
This total loss of mind control was a novelty. Who knew that one smoldering kiss could sap all her strength, leaving her unable to do anything but hang like damp cheesecloth?
Just as she was about to pass out from the lack of air, he let her go, catching her arm as she stumbled.
“Tomorrow? Same time?” he panted.
“Ah, um.” She nodded, her throbbing lips refused to work.
Before she could blink, he was gone, only the path of his quick footsteps in the already deep snow indicated his direction.
Her hands shook as she closed the door. Pressing her head against the cold glass, she enjoyed the cooling sensation on her skin before she jerked back with a gasp.
Tomorrow? He wanted to see her tomorrow.
How much of her did he want to see?
She raced to the bedroom and dove into her underwear drawer, searching for the sexy pair of black lacy panties Aunt Bridget gave her for a joke to wear when she dragged her to see the Chippendales the year before.
“Oh shoot. Razor.” She dashed into the bathroom and rummaged through the cabinet, shouting in triumph when she found her last new razor cartridge.
It didn’t hurt to be prepared. And if Cam was interested in sampling her confections, she was going to make sure the presentation was perfect.
Snowmagedden was the name the news anchors gave the storm that raged outside. Three feet of snow and ice had fallen overnight, covering half of the state and creating panic all over the entire Northwest. In some places it piled five to six feet deep. Needless to say, Fiona never made the drive into work.
Along with the heavy snowpack, the wind was barreling down the mountain at speeds of up to sixty miles an hour. Between cars sliding off the road and tree branches coming down like rain, the news had been broadcasting nonstop and the police had been going just as hard.
It had taken her thirty minutes to clear a path to the stockpile of firewood near the shed and another ten to get a blaze rolling in the wood-burning stove. If it was possible to sit on the metal hearth to get the feeling back into her frozen limbs, she would have jumped on bare-assed naked.
There was a reason why she hadn’t followed her parents when they moved to Buffalo, New York, and harsh winters was it. When the weather turned sour, they quickly relocated to Arizona, but by then she had opened up the shop and was content to stay put.
The power went out as Fiona watched the noon news telecast with a pillow clutched tight to her chest. She never realized how silent silence was until the hum of the refrigerator and the buzz from a bright light bulb was suddenly cut off like a meat cleaver through a power cord. Alone in her house with the wind howling outside, she felt as if she were left all alone on the planet.
While her little house was not out in the sticks, she wasn’t close to town either. It could be hours before power was restored, but her gut told her it was probably going to be a day, if not more. She paced a circle around the living room and pulled at the ends of her hair. By her feet sat a stack of books. Not one of them interested her enough to go beyond page one. Sitting and waiting was not her style. Relaxation was a scheduled event, usually occurring after a hard day’s work.
How could she pretend that the day was a holiday when people were in danger? Aunt Bridget was alone, Mags had texted her saying the pipes in her rental house burst and Cam was probably out protecting the town.
She pressed her nose against the sliding glass door and worried her lip. The sky was a deep, dark slate, making day appear almost nighttime. Cam’s footprints from the night before had long since been obscured with the continual snowfall. The glass fogged over with her breath and she wiped the spot clear with her sleeve then frowned as she caught sight of movement in the distance. From the vast expanse of white and gray a figure emerged, trudging slowly through the snow. Had a wild animal gotten lost and was looking for shelter? Perhaps it was a motorist who had crashed and needed help?
The motorist was a more dangerous creature, in her opinion. There was being charitable and then there was allowing a mass murderer into the house. Of course, what would a mass murderer be doing out in the middle of a snowstorm? Didn’t matter. A stranger was a stranger.
Speaking of strange, the figure was huge, with a large hump on its back. Its torso disappeared, making it look like a floating head. A second later, the image was whole again.
“Cam,” she breathed and opened the door to shout, “Cam.”
He lifted a hand and hurried his steps.
“Why are you letting the cold air in? You’ll freeze,” he said as he neared. Once inside, he shut the door and pulled the drapery closed. “Do you have a towel? I don’t want to track water everywhere.”
“Yeah. One second.” She ran to the bathroom for the cloth. “Is everything all right? Why are you here? Not that I’m sorry you’re here.”
“Thank you.” He nodded and took the towels from her. He had toed off his boots and socks, which made her smile. Of course he’d have big feet. Large, strong, gnarly man-feet with scars and bumps. The feet of a soldier. “How are you faring?”
“Fine, all things considered. I have heat. That’s more than some.”
“True. True. Even I’m finding the cold too much to bear.”
“Well, come closer to the fire. How long have you been out?”
“Most of the night.” He blotted at the snow covering his head and shoulders. “One accident turned into two, then ten, then when the wind picked up, the trees began to come down. I’ve never seen trees explode in such a fashion before. The willow tree in the middle of the square split right down the middle. The trunk splintered like toothpicks.”
“Oh no. I love that tree. It’s been there since time began.”
“Unfortunately, it’s one of the many causalities of this storm. I’m afraid once this snow has cleared, Cedar won’t appear as it once was. Your shop is fine, but the roof collapsed on the shops on the other side of the street, and I’ve lost count of the number of homes that have been damaged.”
“Has anyone been hurt?”
“Physically? Nothing that won’t heal in a day. Emotionally? Well, only time will tell.”
“God, I hate snow.” She gestured to the pot of water bubbling on the stove. “Would you like some coffee? How about soup? I can feed you something hot.”
“Coffee sounds wonderful.” He settled back into his chair with a chuckle. “Look at you. French press. Heavy skillets. You’re a regular pioneer woman. Ready for anything.”
“I know wood-burning stoves are considered retro now, but the power goes out at least once a year and with a regular fireplace you have to sit in the hearth to feel any heat. I’ll take a good ole potbellied monster anytime.”
“The Anderson’s home was blazing bright when I passed by there earlier. I heard part of their remodel included two generators.”
“You know a lot for a person who lives in the shadows.”
“The shadows keep the best secrets.”
What she wouldn’t give to learn what he did in the shadows. “I’ve thought about getting a generator, but then part of me thinks I’m just asking to lose power if I do. How do you take your coffee?”
“Slightly sweetened.” He took the offered mug and sniffed appreciatively. “This smells fantastic. We don’t have sugar where I’m from and it’s now my favorite food group.”
“No sugar? You mean you didn’t have desserts or candy? I can’t imagine a world without sweets.”
“We had confections, but nothing like here. If you brought your talents to my planet, you would be worshipped like a goddess.”
Heat from his smile warmed her cheeks. “You liked my brownies?”
“Loved them. I made the mistake of sharing them with the officers I was working with last night and almost didn’t get one. You have many fans.”
His compliment filled her with pride like no other she’d ever received. Why was that? Was it because she valued his opinion more than others, or was it pure attraction that made her want to lay her head in his lap like a puppy and beg for more attention?
Outside the pop and crackle of tree limbs bursting and crashing to the ground quieted and the hush rolled into the house. Unable to remain still, she reached for the poker and opened the front hatch to prod at the blazing logs.
“So.” She licked her lips. “When is the sheriff expecting you back? Hopefully you’ll get the chance to rest.”
“I’ve been instructed to not show my face for a while. Besides, I don’t think there will be a soul outside now that the sun is setting. It will be too foolish. My time is my own, for now.”
“Oh.”
She turned away to prevent him from seeing the delighted grin stretching her lips from ear to ear.
Crap, he probably sensed the zing of excitement that shot through her.
Relax. Relax. Relax. Do not think about Cam and you. Alone. In a blizzard.
Hysterical laughter tickled her throat, threatening her attempt at appearing blasé.
“What’s so funny?”
Damn. This empathy thing was maddening. “Nothing.”
“Tell me. Your humor feels like bubbles against my skin. What is it?”
“It was nothing, really. Just a silly cliché.”
“I don’t not know this word, cliché. What does it mean?”
“Well, it’s a phrase or idea that has been overused so when it’s spoken, everyone can finish your sentence for you.”
He leaned forward in his chair and rubbed his hands together. “Now I am curious. What was this cliché?”
“It was stupid.” As she talked she felt her cheeks burn as if she set them directly on the hot hearth. “Just. You know. Here we are. A girl and a boy.” Boy. She mentally snorted. Ha! “Trapped in a storm. Whatever shall we do?” she finished in a singsong voice.
“Hmm.” He stroked his chin. “I know I’d like to have sex with you.”
The poker dropped from her hand and bounced as it hit the carpet with the same boy-oy-oying sound that echoed inside her skull. White dots floated in her vision and from a distance she barely heard his sharp command.
“Breathe, Fiona. Breathe.”
Like a goldfish flopping next to its bowl, she sucked in a mouthful of air and warbled out a weak, “What?”
“I am certain you heard me.”
“But—uh. Why?”
He rose to his feet and stalked toward her with slow, lazy steps. “Ah, Fiona. I heard you were a woman who liked a man who was direct. I thought it was because you are a person who likes to get right to the point, but now I realize it’s because you don’t believe what is right before your eyes.”
“And what is that?”
The flames in his eyes glowed brighter than the candles surrounding them. The pads of his thumbs ghosted across her lower lip as he cupped her face. “A man who wants you so desperately, I swear I can already taste the salt of your skin on my tongue.”
Yeaaahhh. That’s so hot.
His lips settled on hers in a kiss that was as a far cry from the hastiness of the night before. He supped on her mouth as if she were a fine brandy, savoring her flavor. He cradled her in his arms as if he had all the time in the world and intended to enjoy her for every one of those seconds.
She let out a surprised gasp as her back met the wall, so lost was she in his kiss she didn’t realize they had moved. Before her next breath, her shirt was up and over her head and her cotton-covered breasts were cupped in his hands. Chills raced down her arms as he peppered the exposed tops with biting kisses. Between the fireplace and his heated touch, a fine layer of sweat began to bead on her skin.
He buried his face in her cleavage and inhaled deep. “
Jesu
, you are so soft. Like a marshmallow.”
The sentiment was sweet, but not exactly sexy. She pulled in her stomach and held her breath, fighting to regain the confidence she had only a moment before.
“The fire of your desire has dimmed.” He pulled away and brushed the loose strands of her hair off her cheeks. “What are you thinking in that pretty head? The truth.”
“I,” she croaked then cleared her throat. “I want you to find me perfect.”
“Silly girl.” He kissed her cheek. “You are perfect. No, wait.”
A sharp tug ripped the front of her bra open, the shredded fabric fell to the floor without a further thought. He pulled the band from her hair and fanned the tresses over her trembling breasts.
“Now you’re perfect.” He twisted a straining peak with his fingers. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamt about seeing you this way. Naked and wanting me. Eager for my touch.”
“Really?” He had? “How long?”
He laughed. “Since the moment I saw you.”
Whatever thought she was about to have next was obliterated when his lips sealed over hers and the tug at her nipple strengthened. The sequin-like roughness of his tunic scraped her other sensitive peak and made her thighs clench as an ache formed between her legs. She ground against the hard length of his thigh, uncaring if the gyrations said,
I’m a slut, take me now
.
Cam stepped back, his chest heaving. “Now I’m the one who needs to remember to breathe.”
He uncoiled the belt around his waist and pulled the tunic over his head. To her surprise, the cowl was attached to another half-shirt that stretched across his shoulders and formed the sleeves encasing his arms. The wide expanse of his heavily muscled chest was left gloriously bare. Soft brown hair ran down his belly and disappeared into black pants that molded to his legs, emphasizing the weighty bulge that strained the fabric and made her hands itch to wrap around his hot cock and squeeze.
“That’s my
konkattie
. Later, I promise you can do all the things I can feel in your gaze, but first I need a taste of your nectar.”
Did he say what she thought he said?
He dropped to his knees and tugged her jeans and panties down her legs in one pull. He nudged her thighs apart and touched the tip of his tongue to the top of her slit.
“Whoa!” She jerked back as far as the wall behind her allowed and grasped the sides of his face. “No, you don’t have to.”
“Don’t have to what?”
“You know. This.” Oh God, could her face flame any hotter with embarrassment? “You
know
. You don’t have to do something you don’t want because you think it might make me happy.”
If she could see his eyebrows, she was certain they had jumped to his hairline. “You don’t like having oral sex performed on you?”
Geez, she always thought she was mature when it came to sex, but Cam made her feel like a doddering virgin. “I do, but men don’t.”