“I am, but sitting here eating with you has been the best conversation I’ve had in years.”
She takes my plate and sets it in the sink. Then she turns to me, lowering her chin, lifting her eyes. “I feel the same way. I haven’t lived alone, but God, am I lonely.”
“Can I hug you, Cozy?”
She nods slowly, and I pull her to me in a gentle embrace. Sure, I want more, but first, I want to wrap my arms around this sweet and tender woman who has been through hell, yet doesn’t complain. She did what she had to do to survive. My chest tightens, and I’m fucking filled with emotion, the desire to take care of Cozy. Forever.
My body feels it too, and my cock twitches, my whole being consumed with need.
I step back, not wanting to offend her. My cock needs to calm the hell down.
She presses her hands to my chest. “You smell good, Whitaker. Especially for a city boy. You smell like the woods.” She runs a hand over my jaw. “And I like your stubble. You’d look good in a beard.”
I chuckle. “You trying to make me into a mountain man?”
She smiles, her eyes bright. “Maybe. And what are you planning on making me?”
I answer without hesitation. “Mine, Cozy. I plan on making you mine.”Chapter EightCozetteHe pulls me to him, the way I hoped he would. Softly, yet with a need that matches my own. His lips find mine and I melt, sinking against his solid chest as his arms wrap around me tight.
The kiss is the kind I’ve dreamt about my whole life. Sparks fly and my heart beats hard and my toes curl. It’s the kind of kiss that makes the bad things I’ve seen bearable and I wonder where this man has been all my life.
He pulls back, his hands on my cheeks, looking at me with awe, with wonder, like I am not a piece of property to purchase, but instead a woman worth holding onto.
“Cozy,” he growls, the mountain man inside of him begging to come out. “You’re so damn perfect.”
“Hardly,” I whisper. “I’m not like you.”
“What do you mean?”
I lick my lips, meeting his gaze. “You’re so talented, successful… but we come from different worlds.”
“Maybe it’s time our worlds collide.” He kisses me again and I love the way it feels, the way it feels to be held by him. A real man, but not a man in control of me — a man taking care of me.
Our lips part and his tongue finds mine, and I whimper, not wanting this to ever end.
“Are you okay, Cozy?” he asks. I nod, wrapping my arms tight around his neck. “Come here,” he says, his hot breath on my ear.
With my hand in his, he leads to me to the couch, and I curl up as he tends to the fire, stoking the logs. The blaze is bright and my whole body heats up — watching him take care of the fire soothes my battered heart. The Christmas decorations on the mantle remind me that he should be furious with me for trespassing, but instead he has been nothing but sweet and kind. He’s everything I need.
He turns the music down low and returns to me, drawing me into his lap, and running his hands over my back. “You are so beautiful but your gentle heart is even more attractive.”
“And you are so handsome,” I say, my finger running along his jaw.
“I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want,” he says softy.
“I want you,” I admit.
He nods stoically. “I want you too.”
“Then why the grave face?”
He smiles, kissing me again. “I know you’ve been hurt by people, which makes this moment all the more special. You’re letting me in. I don’t want to mess it up.”
“You won’t,” I say, taking his hand and guiding it to my hips, under my sweater, showing him it’s okay to touch my bare skin — to touch me. All of me.
He lifts my sweater up, over my head, and sets it aside. He takes me in, my breasts, my collarbones, my shoulders. “Damn, Cozy,” he exhales as he reaches behind me and unclasps my bra, setting it aside. My breasts are bare, the room charged with heat.
I look down at myself, wondering how he sees me. But his soft touch tells me everything I need to know. He caresses me with such care, with such tenderness that I find myself biting down on my lip, hard, as a moan escapes me.
He kisses my nipples, his tongue twirling around them. He massages my breasts, and I have an ache in my pussy for him. I want to touch and see and feel him. I want to know everything there is to know about Whitaker, about what moves him, what breaks him, what draws him out. I want it all.