Page 60 of Rocky Mountain Cowboy Christmas
“That,” Camille murmured, reaching back to catch his hand, “was both torturous and more fun than I expected it’d be.”
“You’ve pretty much described parenthood,” Steve said dryly. “Thank you for going. The kids really enjoyed having you there, especially Micah. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so relaxed at one of those events before.”
“I understand why. We both have the same hatred of crowds.” She played with Steve’s fingers and ran her thumb over his palm. He shivered at her touch, somehow feeling hot and cold at the same time. Unable to resist, he moved his free hand to her waist, telling himself he’d just leave it there. Only seconds passed before he was sliding it across her middle, pulling her even more firmly against him.
Stop,he told himself.She’s been drinking.Even though she’d only taken a couple of small slugs of whiskey from the flask hours ago, and she never showed signs of being tipsy, he didn’t want to take advantage. He was already too aware of the fact that she was staying with him because her home had burned and she had nowhere else to go…well, nowhere that wasn’t Mrs. Lin’s or Ryan’s. He never wanted her to feel pressured by him or for her to do anything she didn’t want as much as he wanted it—and he really wanted it…urgently.
Clearing his throat, he dragged his mind off of his desperation. “You’re so good with him…with all of them.”
Tipping her head back, she smiled at him once more, giving him those hot and cold chills again. “It’s more like they’re good with me.”
As he stared down at her, fighting the urge to kiss those full, tempting lips, he remembered how good she’d tasted the previous evening. Camille had been so willing, so eager—almost as frantic as he’d been—and he’d been overwhelmed by the need to lose himself in her. If Will hadn’t accidentally interrupted them, Steve wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to stop.
“Did you need something from me?” she asked as if reading his mind, and he jerked in surprise, his arm tightening around her waist for a moment.
“I…” He paused, unsure how to answer that in a way that was truthful but didn’t reveal his desperate hunger. Clearing his throat to give himself a moment to think, he finally answered, “I just wanted to thank you for going tonight, even though I know it was hard for you.” He found he couldn’t leave it at that. The previous day’s kiss hadn’t been one-sided. In fact, she’d told him it’d been nice. The memory made him snort, and that amusement centered him enough to continue. “I also wanted to have some time alone with you. We haven’t had much of that this week.”
Her hand went still on his for a moment before she started her rhythmic stroking of her thumb across his palm again, sending pleasure streaking straight from his hand to his groin. He swallowed a pained laugh at that. She affected him so strongly that just the touch drove him wild.
“Not much, no,” she said, and he dragged his mind away from the sensations her fingers were creating and back to their conversation. “I want that, too. It isn’t that I’ve been trying to avoid you.”
Shifting his hand so that it cradled the back of hers, he lifted it to his mouth and pressed his lips to her palm. “I know. The ranch has been busy, and you’ve had to deal with the aftermath of the fire, too. You’ve been a huge help around here. Thank you for that. I know the gift shop isn’t your ideal place to be, but you’ve really come through for us.”
“If Micah can manage to work among all those customers, then so can I,” she said, setting her chin. Her resolute expression made him smile, even as it inspired another rush of heat. “I’ve heard he’s a better packager than I am, though, which is a little upsetting.”
He laughed softly, marveling once again at how happy she made him. “He’s a better packager thananyone,” he reassured her. “It’s the artist in him.”
“There’s artist in me, too, so I have no excuse.” Tugging her hand free of his hold, she turned to face him. “I’m determined to up my wrapping game.”
He’d thought having her backside up against him made it tough to control himself, but that was nothing compared to having theirfrontspressed together. Struggling to drag his mind off the feel of her breasts against his chest, he responded hoarsely, “At least you’ll always be better at it than me.”
Her lower lip protruded in a pretend pout. “That’s no comfort. You’re terrible.”
His laugh was a little choked as he focused on her lips. The only thing stopping him from kissing her was knowing that his control was holding on by a thread. If he put his lips on hers, it would be incredibly hard to stop with a kiss. He opened his mouth to make a joke, but what came out was, “How sober are you right now?”
Instant comprehension lit her face, and her lips parted. She licked the bottom one, and Steve could barely hold back a groan. “I’m very sober.” The way she said it made it clear she knew why he was asking. “I only had a few sips, and that was hours ago.”
“That’s what I thought.” His voice was rough, and he couldn’t seem to stop his hands from traveling up and down her sides. With her right in front of him, leaning against him, it was impossible to pass up the opportunity to touch. “I wasn’t sure, though, since you seemed a little more…cuddly than usual.”Cuddly?He made a face at his choice of words, but she seemed amused by it rather than offended.
“I’m not normally cuddly?” Her quiet laugh was breathless, and he had a feeling that the flush on her face was caused by arousal rather than embarrassment.
“Yeah, you are.” His fingers traced up her ribs. He loved the feel of her, so soft and warm and alive. “I’m thinking about cuddling you pretty much all the time.”
Her flush deepened, and she rested her forehead against his chest. Under his hands, he could feel her ribs expanding and contracting with rapid breaths, and he loved that he was the cause, that he could excite her so much.
“Steve?” She raised her head and looked up at him.
“Yeah?”
“Can I stay down here with you tonight?”
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—
