Page 49 of Saddles and Snowstorms
Brooks grunted. “Been on worse.” But he didn’t protest when I gently guided him back to his chair.
I took over the coffee-making, feeling his eyes on me as I worked.There was something different about his gaze this morning, a softness that hadn’t been there before. It made my heart skip a beat.
“Lucas texted,” I said, keeping my voice casual. “They’re clearing the roads in town.”
Brooks’s face remained impassive, but I caught the slight tightening of his jaw. “They coming out here today?”
“No,” I replied, pouring the coffee into two mugs. “Tomorrow morning.”
A beat of silence passed between us. I handed him his mug, our fingers brushing momentarily. The contact sent a jolt through me like it always did.
“One more day then,” he said quietly, those deep brown eyes searching mine.
“One more day,” I agreed, feeling suddenly breathless.
Brooks took a sip of his coffee, then set it down on the table. “Come here,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.
I moved toward him without hesitation. He reached out, hooking his finger into my belt loop and pulling me closer until I was standing between his legs. Looking up at me, he seemed to be considering something serious.
“Never had much use for snow days before,” he said, his hands sliding up to rest on my hips. “Never really saw the point.”
I couldn’t help but smile down at him, my fingers itching to touch his sleep-mussed hair. “And now?”
“Now I’m thinking they might be the best damn invention since barbed wire,” he murmured, tugging me closer until I had no choice but to straddle his lap, careful to avoid his injured ankle.
His hands moved to cup my face, those calloused fingers rough against my skin in the most delicious way. There was something different about Brooks this morning, a vulnerability that made my chest ache. Maybe it was knowing our time in this bubble was finite, or maybe it was something else entirely. After our honest conversation the night before, I knew he was scared of what we could be. But that didn’t stop me from being hopeful.
“You’re thinking too loud,” he said, his thumb tracing my bottom lip.
“Just wondering what happens tomorrow,” I admitted. “When they dig us out.”
Brooks’s eyes darkened slightly. “Do we have to think about that right now?”
“No,” I whispered, leaning in until our foreheads touched. “We don’t.”
He kissed me then, slow and deep, tasting of coffee and something uniquely him. His hands slid under my shirt, warm against my skin as he explored every inch of me he could reach. I groaned into his mouth, already feeling the familiar heat building between us.
“One more day,” he murmured against my lips, “means we got a lot of time to fill.”
I smiled and shifted my weight, careful of his ankle but bold in my intentions. “I have some ideas about that.”
Brooks’s eyes darkened with desire. “Bet you do, city boy.”
The nickname no longer carried the disdain it once had. Now it sounded almost like an endearment coming from his lips. His hands moved to my thighs, squeezing gently.
“Your ankle,” I reminded him, though my body was already responding to his touch.
Brooks chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Didn’t hurt it everywhere, doc.”
Before I could respond, he was kissing me again, more urgently this time. His stubble scratched against my skin as his mouth moved to my neck, finding that sensitive spot just below my ear that made me shiver.
“Brooks,” I breathed, my fingers tangling in his dark hair.
“Been thinkin’,” he said between kisses. “About how good you looked ridin’ me the other night.”
“Want me to do it again?” I replied, already too eager to oblige.
“Actually,” he said softly, pulling away for a moment. His face was suddenly red, flushed with embarrassment. “Actually… I was wonderin’… well, what it felt like.”
