Page 34 of About Yesterday (Foothills #5)

Break the ice

P ippa was absolutely going to pay for this. Something big. Something devious. Trace was already becoming more enthralled by the man each day they were together, each relaxing movie night, each sweaty workout, or whatever. All of it.

Certainly, it didn’t help that he kept looking at her like that.

Leaning over the bed, he scooped the rose petals into a bin and looked up at her, a hint of smile masked behind a poker face before he looked back down.

That endless curiosity in his eyes, as if she was an intricate puzzle.

Or worse—better?—when his inhale halted as they made eye contact, or when he’d bite the edge of his tongue and quickly look away.

After dinner, Trace tried to look busy, but she couldn’t resist watching him as she sifted through her suitcase.

As soon as he was satisfied that there were no more rose petals to be found, he changed into simple black joggers that he’d picked up on their shopping trip, with a black under shirt that was snug enough to make her drool, even though she knew what everything looked like under the shirt.

On the petal-free, neatly made bed, he sat with his knees up, wincing as he adjusted the pressure off his ankle, and leaned against the pillow stack he’d made.

Toiletries organized and ready, Trace glared into the suitcase.

Well, shit. With her own room, she could sleep in whatever, so she hadn’t packed anything to wear to bed.

Leggings. Jeans. Dresses and skirts. Foot grinding into the floor, hands on her hips, she flicked a look in his direction, a desperate plea forming on her lips before she could find the words to even ask.

Cole looked slowly up from his book and the corners of his mouth lifted into a sweet, devilish smile that sent her skin flushing and her imagination swirling. “Can I, uh, help you?” he asked.

“Do you have an extra pair of sweatpants or something? I have nothing to wear on the bottom half.”

One side if his mouth lifted higher, and she could see him trying to reduce the flirt. “Only one bed and no pajamas? This could get out of hand.”

“Ha ha. Pants? Or a long shirt?”

With a twitch of a flirty smile, he set his book down and tugged his shirt over his head, and handed it over. “We can share my pajamas.”

“Thanks,” she said sheepishly, then disappeared again to change. The shirt was long enough to cover her butt. She hadn’t realized he was so much taller.

“Need water?” she asked, popping a look around the corner.

He glanced at the bedside table and back to her. “Yeah. Thanks. You know I always forget.”

“I know. I heard you hobbling down the stairs in the middle of the night too many times.”

While she filled water glasses for each of them, he hopped up and turned off the lights, cracked open the tiny window to hear the ocean, and lowered the heat for the night.

They settled onto their separate sides of the bed, and Trace handed his water glass over. He smoothly took it, sipped, then set it on his bedside table. He slid his legs under the blankets and leaned back against the headboard with his book.

Trace clicked off her bedside lamp and curled on her side.

Cole clicked off his light and set his book down. He slid lower into the bed and laid on his back.

Encased in darkness, the sound of the ocean should have lulled her to sleep.

She flopped to her other side, facing away from Cole.

He laughed under his breath.

“What?” she asked.

“Is this the part where we’re so overcome with lust that we start magically making out? I mean, you do look hot in my shirt.”

She snorted a laugh and flopped to her back.

“Let’s tell Pippa that’s what happened.” Trace sealed her eyes shut against the darkness.

Cold with the window open, she pulled the blankets to her chin.

A nice, sexy space heater, just a foot away.

She hugged him all the time. So what if they were horizontal this time?

Not a hint of sleepiness in his voice, he asked, “Are you cold? I can close the window.”

“No, I like the sound of the ocean.”

“I can turn up the heat.”

“No that’s okay, or I’ll just be too warm later.”

“K,” he said. “Goodnight.”

“Sleep tight.”

Maintaining a wide distance between them, glued to the edge of the bed, she did not sneak her foot across to warm against his. She did not feel across the gap to check how far away he was.

She did, however, roll to her side to face him. In the dim ambient light, his expression was soft, almost peaceful. She did close her eyes and listen to the steady sound of his breathing, slowing, gradually, his chest rising and falling.

Most of all, she didn’t let herself imagine how this could go. Maybe she should have a fling. With someone safe, to get Cole out of her imagination.

Someone like that adorable science teacher. Nerdy. Sweet. A little shy. Clearly a great sense of humor, messing around with his brothers. Great laugh.

Ugh. Even trying to substitute him in when she closed her eyes, it didn’t work. Cole was right there.

For now. One of these days, he’d be back to full fighting strength, and the restlessness would kick in. His old job might call and offer him a raise, or maybe he’d find something that challenged him even more.

The ocean never rested. Ebb and flow. Surge, crash, retreat. Through the narrow window, it pushed its cold breath into the room.

Sleep finally dragged her under, the rain growing heavy and pounding against the windows, until her dreams flowed as fiercely as the wind and water of the coast. Hours into the night, and the cold sharpened.

Not nearly conscious enough to get up and close the window or turn up the heat, she was stuck between sleep and awake, uncomfortable and mostly unconscious and she shivered with incoherent indecision.

Warmth was so close, she could feel it radiating toward her, offering a glimpse at comfort.

Her foot moved toward it. Flickering in the back of her mind, an alarm bell tried to warn her.

Too cold, too sleepy, her foot signaled to the rest of her body that relief was accessible, no waking and no getting out of bed required.

She shifted closer, closer, stepping across her ice floe toward the tropical beach.

Soothing and rescuing, softly, it wasn’t the white sand warming her fingers and toes, but the rays of the sun itself.

Jealous of her hand and foot that had searched and found relief, her body demanded its share and she wrapped her whole front against the source.

Dreams melted into a cozy night at the beach.

Rain pounded all around, but the umbrella deflected all of it.

Drifting deeper into the delicious dream, she ignored the alarm that told her this wasn’t what she thought it was.

She chose comfort. Stretched over the blanket that was laid neatly over the sandy beach, next to a toasty fire, she turned and found Cole lying next to her, looking up at the stars, turning as he found her watching him.

His sexy, sweet and curious smile warmed her more than the fire.

He shifted across the blanket and encased her in his warmth, drawing her leg over his middle.

She nuzzled into his neck, the temperature rising.

His hand cupped her side, dipping under the fabric of her panties, fingers grasping her bare ass. A groan rumbled low in his chest, the sound so vivid.

She spread her fingers over his chest. Needing more skin, she lifted the hem of his shirt, grasping her palm over his abdomen, heat infiltrating her veins, thrill and arousal stirring her to keep searching. Pressing tighter against him, she slid her hand lower.

Too hot.

Her breath quickened. Her body longed for more.

Too vivid.

Fuck. Shit. Hell. She froze in place, hand unmoving as she realized what had happened.

Carefully, she extracted her hand from down his pants and winced at her very inappropriate sleepy grope.

“Cole?” she whispered, glued to his side, too afraid to move while his hand was still splayed over her rear.

“Yeah?” he whispered back, more gravel than voice, and his fingers fisted on her hip before he withdrew and let his weight sink to his back. “Fuck,” he growled. “I am so sorry. I thought I was dreaming.”

“I’m going to kill Pippa.” She slipped her hand off his middle, cold before she even moved back to her side of the bed.

On her back, she couldn’t seem to pull completely away, and stayed where their arms still touched, the backs of their hands stealing a moment where the rest of their bodies knew better, each small touch, each longing caress shared by the backs of their hands stirred her arousal to painful levels.

They both laid there for who knew how long, her heart thundering in her chest at how far she’d taken it before her consciousness took over.

It was an effective way to wake up, but it would have been nice to wake up a moment before she ground her pelvis against his hip and dipped her hand down his pants.

She knew he wasn’t sleeping, his breathing rough and lurching like hers was, still trying to calm down.

She patted over to find her phone to check the time, but realized she’d made the journey across the bed and couldn’t reach it without moving even farther away. “What time do you think it is?” she asked, drawing her hand back under the covers.

He moved to check, but groaned as his arm argued with the movement. He rotated his body so he could reach without tweaking the arm wrong. “Three thirty.”

She sighed and stared at the dark ceiling, knowing damn well sleep wasn’t going to come easily.

He settled back in next to her, staring up at the ceiling like she was.

Nothing moved but the ocean, the wind, the endless rain.

At least she wasn’t cold anymore.

“Want me to close the window? Or turn up the heater?” he offered quietly.

“No,” she said, realizing it came out as more of a pout.