But my skin hums, and all I can feel is him as the music pounds upstairs.
“Why did you run?”
I shake my head. I don’t know. I…
“Tiernan…” he says in a strangled whisper.
Like a regret. Like he knows exactly why I ran.
“I don’t think this is a good idea, after all,” he says behind me. “We’re not…good influences on a girl.”
“I’m not a girl.”
“Have you ever had a man in your bed?” he asks in a ragged voice.
My heart skips a beat.
Slowly, I shake my head.
He leans down close to my ear. “Have you ever been kissed?”
I nod.
“On places other than your mouth?”
Heat pools between my legs. “No, Uncle Jake.”
His body rises and falls behind me as he breathes into my hair, and I don’t turn around, because I’m afraid of breaking the spell.
Reaching out, he rests his hand on top of mine on the counter, fitting our fingers together as a finger from his other hand softly glides down my spine. A light layer of sweat cools my skin.
Doors slam upstairs as footfalls run from a bedroom to probably the bathroom, and I hear the shower start running as a girl’s laughter breaks out.
“I’m sorry you have to see all this,” Jake says in a pained voice. “When the snow is coming, we soak it up, because we know we won’t see anything pretty all winter.”
His finger traces slowly down my spine.
All winter…
I look down at his possessive hand on mine, remembering his eyes on me from the table a moment ago, and think of how it feels like something is barely being contained, and it hasn’t even snowed yet.
They won’t be locked up here without a woman this year. They’ll have one.
His hot breath filters through the strands of my hair to the back of my neck, and the flesh of my nipples pebble as his hands tease me so painfully gently.
All winter…
“I think you should leave, Tiernan.”
I narrow my eyes, but I turn my hand over, craving his touch on my palms now. It feels so good, my eyelids flutter.
“Leave the peak?” I ask.
Or does he mean leave the kitchen?
He doesn’t answer, and my stomach sinks a little, finally realizing what he’s telling me.
Needles prick the back of my throat. “You said I was home.” I catch his hand mid-caress, thread our fingers, and curl mine to hold his hand tightly. “You said I was yours.”