He urged Imogen to lie back on the mattress, then knelt between her spread legs. Her cheeks were bright red, her eyes glazed, but she smiled up at him. God, her smile. It strengthened him, emboldened him. He finally allowed himself to touch his cock. He was so hard he flinched at the touch.

  “It’s your turn now,” she said. “What shall I do?”

  “Touch your nipples.” Her hands rose at once, pinching and rolling the buds between her thumb and forefinger. With his free hand, he stroked between her legs again. “That’s it, Genie love. I want to rub my cock on your pussy. Is that all right?”

  "Yes, yes.”

  He nudged her thighs wider apart, then slid his aching arousal against her center. Sweat beaded on his brow as he rocked his hips with the utmost concentration. He dragged his cock through her curls, from top to bottom, and her lips grew slick with fresh arousal. The head of his cock dragged across her clitoris with each thrust, and her breath quickened once more.

  Imogen’s head tossed back and forth on her pillow. “Tommy, I want more. Please, put your cock inside me.”

  He shook his head vehemently. “No, I won’t do that to you. You deserve better.”

  “Better than you? Nonse⁠—”

  Her words choked off when he lifted his cock and tapped it against her clitoris. A groan ripped from her throat at the startling sensation, and he shuddered, nearly delirious from pleasure.

  “Come with me,” he grunted, alternating between the rubbing and tapping.

  A moment later, Imogen came with a low, keening gasp. His free hand scrambled across the blankets until he found a bit of thin, lacy cloth. With the last of his sanity, he jerked away from Imogen’s silky pussy and spilled into the cloth.

  Imogen lifted her arms and beckoned him forward. He crawled over her body and into her embrace, taking care not to put his full weight upon her. Her legs intertwined with his, her toes rubbing his calves, and then she stilled.

  “Ouch.”

  “Ouch what?”

  She lifted her head from the pillow and peered over his shoulder. A gentle smile rose to her cheeks, and he found it hard to concentrate on anything else. She was flushed from pleasure, her movements slow and languid. Cupping his cheek, she said, “Look down.”

  He sighed and rolled to his side to do as she asked. His eyes bulged. Black, scuffed boots still adorned his feet. And they were on the bed. Jerking both boots into the air, he rolled to the edge of the mattress. “Damnation,” he hissed, tugging sharply at the laces. “I’ll clean the mess at once.”

  Imogen’s stroked his back lightly. “There’s no need, my love. Come back to bed.”

  “But there’s dirt⁠—”

  “Bed. Now.”

  He sent one more tortured look to the specks of dirt dotting the top blanket, and then lowered down into Imogen’s embrace. She wrapped both arms around him, and he slid his knee between hers until her soft curls brushed against his thigh. He nuzzled the crevice between her neck and shoulder, greedily inhaling the faint whispers of vanilla and cinnamon. “You’ve officially driven me to distraction.”

  Her fingers played in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I think it’s sweet.”

  He smiled against her skin. “Because I’m the absolute sweetest?”

  “Indeed. Cleaning can wait until tomorrow, along with my chemise, which you—ahem—christened.”

  “I certainly wasn’t going to spill on you. I’d never disrespect you thusly.”

  Her fingers paused. “And if I didn’t mind?”

  God, this woman. His exhausted loins tightened at the image. “Then we have something to look forward to.”

  She resumed her gentle stroking, and they fell into comfortable silence. Tommy drifted, lulled by the fire licking at his back and Imogen’s heartbeat under his ear. They were living a fantasy, one that couldn’t possibly survive beyond the cozy walls. It didn’t matter that he’d fallen in love with Imogen, or that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. It could never work. Her family would revile him; her peers would mock him. And he would die a thousand deaths when Imogen started to resent him.

  “I love you,” Imogen whispered faintly.

  The hopeful, courageous words cracked his heart in two. He squeezed his eyes tightly against the moisture clouding his vision. Those three words were the most precious gift she could give him. He had no doubt she meant it, but he also knew she would regret them soon enough. He had to spare them both the pain.

  And so, to his great shame, he pretended not to hear.

  CHAPTER 10

  When Imogen arrived at the cabin weeks ago, she’d been resigned to spending the holidays alone. The mountain of unused yarn shoved under the bed could attest to her former plans to knit her way into spinsterhood. Then Tommy came along and turned her wants upside down. He’d tunneled his way under her skin and into her heart. She’d dared to believe she’d found, against mountainous odds, her soulmate in a remote, snowbound cabin. She should have known the illusion would fade at the stroke of midnight. Or, more aptly, the moment she trusted Tommy with more than her body.

  Now they were back to an unbearable farce of strained politeness.

  Her heart constricted painfully, as it did every time she remembered what had happened last night. After the most passionate night of her life, she’d taken her courage in hand and revealed her feelings. She was convinced Tommy felt the same, but the dolt had pretended to be asleep. As if they hadn’t been pressed so closely together that she wouldn’t feel his muscles tense at her words, or the way his heartbeat had skittered out of control.

  Like an animal preparing to flee for its life.

  Tommy sat at the table, his newly cut head of hair bent low as he tailored a shirt he’d found in her assortment of castoff clothing. His seemingly bottomless competence would ordinarily have thrilled her, yet she knew what it signified: he was preparing to leave. He was running away from her. Again.

  She tore her gaze away and concentrated on the dry plates spread on the woven throw rug around her. If Tommy could pretend nothing was amiss, then so could she. Strumming her fingers on her knees, she strove—once again—to summon the bravery to develop the images. It was undeniable that Tommy’s arrival had infused her work with newfound vigor. Though she knew the concepts depicted on the plates had potential, the stakes felt inordinately high. What if she failed to capture the magic she’d felt? Or worse, what if she erroneously deemed them satisfactory only to have them belittled at the exhibition? The possibility was paralyzing.

  “Why do you stare at them like they’ll bite?”

  She let out a long sigh. “Because if they’re terrible, I’ll have to withdraw from the Seattle Photography Exhibition at the end of January.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “This is the first I’m hearing about an exhibition.”

  “It’s not so much a secret as something I’ve avoided thinking about the last few days. Every time I do, my skin starts itching and I want to hit something.”

  “Ah. That explains the nail biting.”

  “I suppose.” She debated letting the awkwardness take over once more, but she desperately needed to talk about the exhibition. Tommy had been understanding of her art so far, and he was no stranger to risks. Besides, anything was better than sitting around in silence. “It’s a national showcase, and the attendance could be close to a thousand. Ever since my first flop, I’ve doubted whether my work belongs there at all.”

  He pursed his lips in thought. “You said the first photographs didn’t resonate because you imitated what others have done before you. Is the same true of the photographs you’ve taken of me?”

  “They’re vastly different,” she admitted. “They’re more emotional, more romantic. It’s not only about the man, but also about the atmospheric elements. Subdued lighting, a softer focus. Combined, they reflect an idea. They tell a story.”

  “I’m no expert, but it sounds to me like you know what you’re doing.”

  “Perhaps.” She stared down at the plates. The lingering hesitation refused to abate.

  The chair creaked and then Tommy was lowering to the floor beside her. He laid a hand on her knee. “I know what my third wish is.”

  “Oh, really? Do tell.”

  “My wish is for you to have confidence in yourself.”

  She groaned. “For goodness’ sake. What a waste of a wish.”

  “I disagree. It’s clear recent events have shaken your self-worth, but that’s because you’ve been hiding who you really are. That never works.”

  She wrinkled her nose at his annoying, but accurate, observation. “I tried so hard to please my fiancé,” she admitted. “I said all the right things, did all the right things. It was suffocating.”

  “When you were brave enough to show your true self, he realized he wasn’t man enough for you. That’s his fault, not yours.”

  “And I’ve been doing the same thing with my art,” she said slowly.

  Her thoughts swirled, tempest-like, inside her. She had been limiting herself. Her longstanding fear of never being understood, of being deemed too much, had undermined her efforts once more. How long would she have continued to punish herself if Tommy hadn’t shown up?

  “I owe it to myself to develop the photographs and attend the exhibition with my head held high.”

  “Show the world who you really are and the right people will notice.”

  The truth was empowering, but it was also tinged with bitterness. Tommy might have shined the light on her façade, but what about his?

  “You’re correct,” she said slowly. “But you’re also a hypocrite.”

  His expression hardened. “Excuse me?”

  “You tell me to take risks and open up to the world, but what about you? You hide your identity, for God’s sake. You sit behind a bookshop desk where no one has a chance to get to know the real you. Even here, with me, you shut down as soon as you come close to revealing something of any importance!”

  “That’s not true. I’ve told you what my goals are.”

  “You shared some details,” she agreed. “But every time you’re on the cusp of admitting too much, you silence yourself. You don’t trust me to handle your emotions, whatever they may be.”

  “My emotions?” he scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “It’s not ridiculous to admit you love someone, Tommy.” She stared him down. “I’ve loved you since I was ten years old. It was a pure, innocent sort of love, but it was real. When my father forbade us from seeing each other, I thought my heart had cracked in two. But that’s nothing to the pain I feel now. Last night, I told you I love you, and you pretended to be asleep. Guess what, Tommy?” She rose to her knees and jabbed a finger in his face. “I know you love me back. You’re just too cowardly to admit it.”

  “I’m no coward,” he growled, scrambling to his knees beside her. “And you’re wrong. I care about you, deeply, but love is for fools. It’s for masochists, and I refuse to flagellate myself again.”

  “Aha! You said again.”

  “I misspoke.”

  “Then let me remind you of an old saying: Actions speak louder than words.” She gave him a smug grin. “And you, Tommy, have made the grave mistake of treating me better than anyone else in my life ever has. You simply can’t stop showing me how much you love me. Even your stupid decision to push me away was based on love. So this is really all your fault.”

  He surged to his feet and began to pace. “Goddammit.”

  “Admit it.”

  “Don’t love me,” he snapped. “Just…don’t. Give your love to someone who deserves it more.”

  Deserve.

  There was that blasted word again. He used it to construct walls between them, to push her aside where he thought she’d be safe from him. The last time she’d let it happen, they hadn’t spoken for years. She couldn’t let that happen again. Before she could utter another word, he thrust his feet into his boots and moved to the door.

  “Wait.” Her voice was shrill. “Don’t go.”

  He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “I’ll gather some extra firewood. Then it’s time for me to leave.”

  The door softly clicked shut behind him. The consideration sent a spark of rage through her. She stalked across the room and wrenched the door open.

  “Good luck avoiding the rest of my booby traps,” she shouted at his retreating back. He whipped his head around just in time for her to slam the door shut.

  As quickly as it had arrived, the rage fled, leaving her boneless, empty. She sank to the floor, one hand pressed to her midriff. She’d pressed Tommy too hard. He was leaving, and she had no one to blame but herself.

  Tommy poked at a strange-looking twig sticking out of a snowbank. It wobbled back and forth in the breeze, but no snare catapulted into the air. The ground held steady. Tommy shook his head at his skittishness, but he couldn’t forget the terrifying moment he’d fallen into a snow pit. God only knew what other booby traps Imogen had hidden around her haven.

  His outrageous, endearing Imogen.

  He rubbed a frozen hand across his eyes and muttered a curse. Once again, he was out in the snow, ill-prepared and on the verge of losing his mind. A fine punishment for his most recent crimes. Imogen’s anguished expression swam before his eyes and his stomach heaved. The most incredible woman in the world loved him, and rather than break free of the chains binding his heart, he’d turned tail like a mongrel.

  What was wrong with him?

  Giving a pile of suspicious stones a wide berth, he trudged toward the rack of firewood beside the outhouse. A dainty snowflake caught in his eyelashes, and he paused to wipe it clean. He looked up and his breath caught. He’d been so occupied by his thoughts he hadn’t noticed the winter wonderland before him.

  The air itself carried a hushed quality, as if the world had collectively decided to lower its volume in deference to the pristine beauty surrounding him. It invoked a peacefulness he’d only recently discovered was possible. He’d felt the same way when he held Imogen in his arms before the fire. When he read aloud to her in bed. When she draped herself over him and whispered every single thought in her sharp, impressive mind. He pulled the faded handkerchief from his pocket and stared at their intertwining initials. He was willing to give all that up for…what?

  “I’m making a goddamned mistake.”

  Swiveling on his heel, he hurried back to the cabin. The wooden door banged against the wall at his forceful entry, but he didn’t stop to check for damage. He crossed the floor in three strides and sank to his knees in front of a slack-jawed Imogen.

  “I love you.” He wrapped his arms around her hips and pressed his lips to her stomach. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” With each declaration, it was as if a heavy burden was lifted from his chest, and the tension that had gripped him for so long began to unravel.

  Imogen shuddered out a long breath. “Finally.”

  He smiled against her midriff. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “That doesn’t solve everything,” she warned. “We still have things to discuss.”

  He rose to his feet and pulled her to the rocking chair. Once she was comfortably in his lap, he began. “In my family, expressing emotions was a sign of weakness. We gritted our teeth and we worked harder. My teachers were no better, so I stopped going to school. My life was bland, empty. Then I met you.” He squeezed her thigh. “Truthfully, you overwhelmed me. I had never met someone who wore their heart on their sleeve. It intrigued me, made me want to try again.”

  Imogen sighed. “Was your first attempt on my father?”

  “Sadly, yes. After he sent you to boarding school, I pleaded with him to change his mind. I explained how important you were to me, how I would work hard to provide for you. His response was to remind me I wasn’t worth the dirt on your boots⁠—”

  “He was wrong.”

  “Was he?” He rubbed his chin against her forehead. “I have nothing to offer you. Love can’t possibly be enough. You’d be much better off with someone who deserves you.”

  She groaned and pushed at his chest so she could look him in the eye. “Stop with all this nonsense about not being deserving, and stop making decisions for me.”

  “I don’t⁠—”

  “I am tired of everyone thinking they know more about my needs and wants than I do. I told you, despite ignoring my letters for two years, that I wanted to be with you⁠—”

  “I thought you didn’t mean it.”

  “You decided I didn’t mean it. And now you’re doing it again.”

  The bitter taste of regret filled his mouth. She was right.

  “I’m not a girl any longer, and I refuse to let you hurt us again.” She cradled his cheeks with both hands and stared deeply into his eyes. “You are enough, my love. You’re more than enough. I couldn’t care less about where you come from or what your profession is. I never did. All I know is that it almost broke me when I lost my best friend. And now that I know you love me? Well, good luck escaping me now.”

  A huff of laughter slipped past his lips. “I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “None whatsoever.”

  He gripped her closer. “You’ve made your point, Genie love.”

  She smirked, then turned serious. “That said, I have three questions for you. If the answer is no to any of them, you can walk out that door and I’ll never contact you again. Do you accept the conditions?”

  Hell no, he didn’t. Even the possibility of that coming true made his stomach curdle. “If the answer is no, I’ll simply counteroffer until we find a solution that suits us both.”

  Her brows rose, but she seemed pleased by his answer. “First question. I know you’re concerned about having something to offer me, but the truth is, I don’t need anything. Your lack of money was only ever a problem for my father. I have a rather large inheritance and I could buy a home tomorrow if I wished. Can you live with the fact that I’ll likely always have more money than you?”

 

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