Coming in from the Cold

by Sarina Bowen

  He felt like a grenade with the pin pulled.

  Dane slipped a hand down the back of the stretchy yoga pants she wore, cupping her bottom. He pushed down the fabric with his other hand, slipping down her pants and her panties together. “Let’s get rid of these,” he said.

  * * *

  Willow rolled to the side, avoiding his injured leg. She slipped off the rest of her clothes. “Take off your shirt,” she demanded, feeling giddy when he quickly shucked it off. God, he was beautiful. She reached for him, caressing the exquisite muscles on his chest. She could happily traverse the geography of his torso for hours.

  Dane scooped one long arm under her knees and swung her across his lap. As one of his big hands traveled down her sternum, Willow got goose bumps. She knew she ought to feel vulnerable right now. Here she was, giving herself to him again. He was a risk, and she was at a frightening juncture in her own life. But his solid body felt like home, and the warmth of his skin soothed her fears.

  She twined her fingers in his hair and kissed him again. He sucked on her tongue while his fingers grazed her belly, then slipped between her legs. When he found the deep slick of wetness waiting there, they groaned together. She gasped as he palmed her, spreading the moisture everywhere.

  Desire flooding her, Willow clung to his neck, kissing him urgently. Dane slid two fingers inside. As his thumb stroked her swollen bud, she became dizzy with arousal, her hips twitching as he touched her. Her bottom grazed the tip of his cock every time she moved. The heat blooming between her legs was unbearable. “I want you,” she murmured.

  “You’ll have me,” he whispered. “Soon.”

  But he didn’t stop. Instead, he thumbed her clit in long, insistent strokes. She was so turned on that every breath brought her closer to the edge. “Oh, Dane,” she said. “You’ll make me…”

  “Come,” he said, covering her mouth with his. His fingers plunged inside again, his hand caressing her to even higher heights.

  She groaned and felt her body gather into itself, her senses concentrating under his touch. Willow felt the shimmer of orgasm begin, then break across her body like a wave. He kissed her hard as her body contracted, gripping his fingers like an embrace.

  His powerful arms tightened around her, and with them came a moment of déjà vu. The very first time he’d touched her had felt just like this—strong but worshipful. From the very beginning, the abundant tenderness of his touch had never wavered. His words had put her through so much misery, but his body had always revealed his true feelings. The truth was there in his first kiss goodbye, and even his grasping hands when he was wracked with fever.

  Dane’s touch had never lied.

  Willow tucked her head against his chin and tried to catch her breath. He rocked her gently in his embrace. “Sweet thing,” he whispered. “Holding you makes me so happy.”

  Her heart fluttered to hear it. The path forward would not be smooth. But if he was determined to find it, then just maybe they would.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Dane held her as she came down, her heart rate slowing, her face flushed. His balls throbbed, and for once it was an excellent problem. Because they had all night. And tomorrow. And, if his luck held, many days after that. Her skin against his was a balm for everything that pained him. The quiet contentment that he felt in his chest was a brand new thing.

  Eventually Willow began to stir again, her lips brushing his pecs, her eyes flickering into his. He drank it in, sighing as her fingers teased the curly hairs running down his belly. Then she rolled off him, her feet finding the floor next to the bed. Leaning over, she kissed her way from his belly button to the waistband of his athletic pants. His breath hitched when she teased her finger underneath.

  She looked up then, a smile on her perfect lips. “Help me do this without hurting you,” she said.

  Dane pressed his hips off the bed, allowing Willow to draw his pants and boxers down to his thighs. She hovered over him then, her hair draping on his belly, hiding her face. He could only feel it, not see it, as she slowly lowered her tongue to the base of his cock, then licked her way from the base to the tip. “Oh, fuck,” he gasped. She flicked her tongue over the tip of him again, and the sensation nearly sent him through the roof.

  He was panting when she stood up again, tugging on his trousers. Dane kicked them off of his good leg, and then she moved down the bed, her bare skin golden in the candlelight, and eased the clothing over his broken leg. She bent over to examine his knee, the surgical wound visible through the cutout in the brace. “Ouch,” she said, meeting his eyes.

  He chuckled, stretching back against the headboard. “I’m not really feeling any pain right now.”

  “We’ll try to keep it that way.” She slipped onto the bed, gently straddling him. Her hands grazed his pecs, her thumbs teasing his nipples. She leaned over to kiss his neck, and the line of his beard up his face. She licked and teased and nibbled, and Dane cupped her bottom with eager hands. He wanted her so badly.

  She sat back, her face serious. “Can I put pressure right here?” she asked, a hand reaching back to the top of his thigh.

  “Try it.”

  Willow sat back carefully on his hips, her bottom grazing his thighs. Only then did she curve her fingers around his cock. “Is this okay?”

  “No problem,” he gasped, and she smiled at the strangled sound of his pleasure.

  She stroked him very gently, but his eager body wanted so much more. He yearned to wrench his hips up off the bed and roughen her stroke. But it wasn’t just his injured knee that held him back. He would savor this. It wasn’t just an erotic hour that Willow was offering him, but a chance to have something much more beautiful and lasting. It was a gift, and Dane wanted to appreciate every second.

  All at once, Willow rose up, guiding him underneath her body. Her eyes on his, she sank down on him very slowly, inch by tantalizing inch. “Oh, Willow,” he gasped. The sensation was so overwhelming that he had to close his eyes. He felt her rise up over him again, then sink exquisitely down once more. The stunning grip of her wet body around his made him pant. Every nerve ending he owned stood at attention. She moved again, this time squeezing his cock from inside her body. “Christ,” he said. “You’re killing me.”

  “Kegel exercises,” she said. “Pregnant women are supposed to tone up.”

  He put both of his hands down on her hips, holding her still. “Whew. Hang on a second.” Dane flopped his head back against the headboard. He hadn’t felt so trigger-happy since he was a teenager. But she didn’t obey, instead squeezing him inside her again.

  Christ. Christ. Christ. He took another deep breath.

  Willow grasped his hands, moving them from her hips to her lower back. “Dane, look at me.”

  He obeyed, opening his eyes. She arched back into his hands, then rose up, giving him a full view of the place where his wet cock disappeared inside her. She sank down again, her heavy breasts jiggling slightly as she rode him. He sucked in air, trying to hold himself together.

  She stilled her body again, leaning forward, her hair dangling in front of her nipples. “Now I need to know something.”

  He looked up at her, speechless.

  “Which is better, this or skiing on fresh powder?”

  When his brain cleared enough that he could process the question, he hooted with laughter. Pulling her down on his chest, he told her the truth. “You win, sweet vixen.” He kissed her hair, her face. “No contest.” Grinning like a fool, he held her tight. They lay there together for a moment, the humor relaxing him.

  The wind whipped past Willow’s drafty old windows, causing the candle to flicker. He memorized the shadows on the ceiling and vowed never to forget this moment. Willow looped her hands behind his neck again, and Dane had never felt so alive. She smiled down at him, raising her body up on his shaft. Then her eyes fell closed as she sank down on him again, exhaling deeply as she did so.

  The laughter had loosened something in his chest,
and now the unfamiliar sensation of joy warmed the space around his heart. He was incredibly, unbelievably lucky. He—Dane Hollister—could have this moment and luxuriate in it. There was no need to run away from it, to fear it. He curved his hands around Willow’s chest as she moved above him. Her body celebrated him, held him tight, made his senses sing.

  Her next deep thrust made both of them groan. He watched her eyes grow glassy, her pink lips parting. She moved a quicker now, grinding against him. “Mmm,” she said, her eyes falling closed. “So good.” She began to sigh, a look of concentration on her sweet face.

  The evidence of her arousal unzipped his control. He let all the feelings come, felt her everywhere on him. “Sweet thing,” he warned, flexing beneath her. A delicious tension sunk down his spine.

  She gasped, giving another very sturdy grind.

  “Willow,” he groaned, his body finally beginning to detonate. He pressed his hips up, bucking against her. Thrust by tantalizing thrust, he emptied himself into her body.

  Willow’s mouth fell open. She was gasping, pressing herself onto him. For her, he thrust one more time, and felt her body grip his, tightening around his cock. A second later she lay moaning into his neck, while he stroked her back with clumsy hands.

  He couldn’t speak. He only shifted slightly to reassure himself there was no way he could hold her closer. The now familiar tickle behind his eyes began again. As his eyes filled, Dane reached up and wiped them with the back of his hand.

  “Are you going to cry every time you touch me?” she whispered, kissing the corner of his eye.

  “Is it a deal breaker?” he asked. “You have the strangest effect on me.”

  She shook her head. “Coming alive has the strangest effect on you. I’ll just stock up on tissues.”

  Dane sank back against the pillow, stroking her hair. He was lucky in every possible way a man could be. It wasn’t just the beautiful girl curled at his side—he had a sport he loved, he had money, he had the cool mountain air. Setting aside the broken leg, he even had his health.

  The truth was, he’d been lucky for years, but too stupid to appreciate it. And in service to his own self-pity, he’d been difficult to nearly everyone who had the misfortune to wander through his pain.

  But now, as he played with a lock of Willow’s hair, he felt some of his old anguish lift away. She had given him a second chance—not just with her, but with everything. And he would try not to fuck it up.

  * * *

  “It’s cold in here now,” she said, coming back from the bathroom to hop back into bed beside him. “The power outage takes down my furnace.”

  “Come here,” Dane said. “I’ll be the one who keeps you warm.”

  She climbed in next to him, and he gathered her into the crook of his arm. With tentative fingers, he reached for her stomach, stroking the skin. He cupped her belly, his fingers stretching across its width. “So far, everything I know about pregnant ladies I like.”

  Willow sighed. “But pregnant ladies turn into mommies. With crying babies.”

  “And what I don’t know about those could paper Everest. But I won’t run from it, Willow.”

  “Tomorrow,” she said sleepily. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow. What a great fucking concept. He stretched out against Willow’s body—the way he’d always wanted to—and fell asleep.

  * * *

  When Dane next opened his eyes, an early-morning light suffused the room. He was in Willow’s bed, but something was wrong. Groggy, he tried to sort out what the problem was. His knee was stiff, as it always was in the morning. But there was something else. He heard the TV, which meant the power had come back on in the night. He heard another noise, too.

  He sat up fast. “Willow?” He swung his feet off the bed, grabbed his crutches off the floor and hobbled to the bathroom. He found her kneeling over the toilet, trying to hold her hair out of the way while she dry heaved. “Sweet thing,” he said, leaning over to capture her hair for her.

  She held up a hand. “You don’t have to…I’ve got it.”

  “I’m not afraid of a little puke,” he said, setting his crutches in the corner and handing her a tissue. “Does this happen every morning?”

  She nodded, wiping her mouth and throwing the tissue into the toilet. She closed the cover and flushed. When she stood up, he folded her into his chest. “Maybe that’s the end of it,” she murmured.

  “Is there anything that will make you feel better?” he asked.

  “It’s weird, but food helps. Certain foods, anyway. This is funny—you know what I can’t eat anymore?”

  “What?” he rubbed her back gently.

  “Eggs…” She shuddered. “I can’t be in the same building with an omelet. Don’t tell The Girls.”

  “So let’s feed you something else. I could make pancakes. It’s the only thing I cook.”

  Willow sighed into his chest. “I don’t really have time. If the plow went by, I have to go to work.”

  “Today?” he asked. He wasn’t sure he could let go of her.

  She laughed. “Of course. Every dollar counts.”

  He pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Can I take you out for dinner tonight? Although you’d have to drive…”

  She gave him a squeeze, and he felt it all the way down to his soul. “You and I in a vehicle together? Sounds dangerous. But I like to live on the edge.”

  * * *

  While Willow brushed her teeth, Dane looked around her bedroom for the clothes that had been so hastily discarded. When the phone next to Willow’s bed rang, Dane picked it up. “Hello?”

  There was a silence on the line for a moment. And then a voice said, “Bloody hell. I can’t believe it.”

  “Good morning, doctor.” He sat down on the bed.

  Callie grumbled into the phone. “This had better end well.”

  “Are you going to stab me in the ass again if I don’t behave?”

  “At least.”

  “Then I’d better be good,” he said. Willow had come to stand over him. She held out her hand for the phone. But he gave her the universal sign for “just a second.” “I owe you big, Callie. And I don’t just mean the bill.”

  “Oh,” Callie groaned. “Don’t make me like you right away,” she said. “It’s less fun for me.”

  Willow took the phone. “Hello?” she said. She made a comically frightened face for Dane’s benefit.

  “I didn’t expect that voice on the phone this morning,” Callie said.

  “Um, me neither,” Willow admitted.

  “What is it with you two and snowstorms?”

  Willow blushed. “Isn’t that what they’re for? And then you wake up the next morning and puke a lot. Oh wait—that’s just me.”

  “You won’t get any sympathy here, Wills,” Callie said. “I spent the blackout at the hospital, listening to the generators hum.”

  “Sounds like a party.”

  “Yoga tomorrow? Or are you too…busy.”

  Willow laughed. “I’ll be there.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  They took the Jeep, for old time’s sake, parking on Main Street.

  Sitting across from Dane at the town’s only Chinese restaurant, Willow felt oddly shy. As he dished rice onto her plate, there was a lull in the conversation. They’d done everything backward, hadn’t they? She was almost three months pregnant, and they’d never even dined out together. Willow felt as though that awkward fact had taken a seat at the table beside them.

  “Seeing as this is our first date,” Dane said, “wasn’t I supposed to pull out your chair? Damn, I did it wrong.” He took a sip of his Tsingtao beer.

  “Dane, we’re sitting in a booth.”

  “I guess I get a pass on that, then.” He winked.

  Willow helped herself to a dumpling. “So, was Coach ready to send out a search party last night? You went missing for more than twelve hours.”

  “Are you kidding? Coach was tap dancing aroun
d the apartment, happy to be alone. He’s had to put up with my sorry ass…” he shook his head. “I’ve been a miserable jerk.”

  “You’ve had quite a lot happen to you.”

  “I know.” He looked sheepish. “Coach wants me to see someone.” He made his fingers into quotation marks. “But I don’t know what a doctor could do for me.”

  Willow put down her fork. “Well…the doctor’s job is to listen—to be that person you can tell all the scary stuff in your head. So you don’t try to pour it out on your family, or your coach or…”

  “…Your girlfriend,” Dane supplied. He took a very deep breath. “Okay, that makes a certain amount of sense.”

  “The other thing they’d do…” She looked into his very blue eyes. “You’ve had a traumatic experience. And it lasted years, and that affects your thinking. Remember, in the Jeep, you said, ‘Let’s compare crappy things that happened today?’”

  He nodded.

  “Well, you’ve been playing that game in your head your whole life, right? And you win every round?”

  Another nod.

  “If you want to join the human race, you have to figure out how to stop winning.”

  He looked down at his plate.

  “The goal is to get to a place where you can hear a friend say, like, ‘Oh man, I have a splinter in my left butt cheek.’ And you can say, ‘Dude, that’s terrible!’ Only, you’ll mean it.”

  His face cracked into a smile, even though he looked sad.

  She threw up her hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go all clinical on you. But that’s what a shrink is supposed to do.”

  He cleared his throat. “You’re really good, aren’t you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re an excellent psychologist.”

  She shook her head. “I might be, if I ever get the chance.”