Page 50 of A Cozy Holiday
“Yeah.” He smiles, eyes crinkling at the side. “I’ll set up the fireplace.”
“I’m not arguing with that.”
By the time I step out of the bathroom in my cabin, wrapped in one of my oversized robes that took up half a suitcase and still seemed like a good packing decision, the living room glows with orange light. The fire snaps, and Jamie’s added more logs to the basket beside it.
He’s standing by the window, looking out at the dark barn, and for a moment I just watch him. The red in his ears and the apples of his cheeks from being out in the snow too long. The way the hair at his nape is still damp, frozen with sweat. The fact that he built me a fire and didn’t ask for anything in return.
When was the last time someone did something like that for me?
“All set?” he asks, turning. “Joy.” He shakes his head, like he’s in utter disbelief that I exist.
I’m suddenly very aware that I’m naked under this robe. That my hair’s dripping down my back. That we’re alone in a very small cabin with a very large bed.
“Yeah,” I manage. “Thanks for the fire.”
He crosses to me, stopping just close enough that I can smell him. “You did an amazing thing today, Joy.”
“Jamie,” I whisper, and I don’t even know what I’m asking for.
But he does.
He cups my face in his rough palms and kisses me.
It’s not like the frantic couch incident yesterday. This is slower. Deeper. Like he’s trying to taste the marshmallows he put in my coffee this morning.
All the words in my head vanish as I let my body settle into every feeling. Happiness. Overwhelmed. Passion.
“Joy.” He pulls back, panting. “I haven’t been with anyone since Tessa. Nine years. And I told myself I wouldn’t—that I couldn’t—unless it meant something. Unless it was more than just—”
“Just sex,” I finish.
“Yeah. But I know you’re leaving.”
“Then maybe we don’t need to think too much about it for now?” I hold his gaze before I tiptoe up to kiss his mustache, the stubble on his cheek, his ear. “I know I haven’t stopped thinking about you. And I know that when you look at me, I feel like I’m more than just Dr. Winters, who works too much and forgets to eat and can’t figure out how to be a person outside the clinic.”
“You are more than that,” he whispers in a beautiful, deep tone that ripples across my sternum. “So much more.”
He looks down, slowly undoing my robe. His Adam’s apple bobs as his jaw tenses. When my robe is on the floor, he hisses. The heat from the fire kisses the left side of my naked body.
“You’re stunning.” He runs the backs of his knuckles up my waist, barely touching me, and goose bumps rise in his wake. “Perfect.”
I gulp as he drags the pad of his thumb from my collarbone, then down between my breasts. His green eyes darken, his pupils swallowing his restraint.
“Can I touch you?”
“I’ve been waiting for you all week, Jamie.” I clutch his hand and place it over my breast. A vein in his forearm twitches.
I work his flannel off, then the thermal underneath, and God, he’s sweltering, and there’s gray threading through the dark hair on his chest and down to his stomach.
Then I’m kissing him again, and his touch is no longer exploratory but feverish. He walks me backward to the bed, our hearts beating like thunder.
“Tell me if you want to stop.”
“I don’t want to stop.” I fall back onto the mattress, pulling him with me. The plaid flannel sheets and duvet wrap around us. “I want you to fuck me until I forget my own name.”
He makes a strangled sound. “Jesus, Joy.”
“What? Too much?”
