his arms toward the fire.
"Take my coat, clean up after me, constantly treat me like a queen..." I drone.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought I was just showing you common decency," he laughs. "Man, Collin really did a number on you, didn't he?"
"I should be offended by that." I smile, but I'm not offended in the least bit. At some point, it went from me feeling like Collin and everything that happened in that relationship was my fault to now... now it was what it was and I feel no need to take ownership of what I went through as all my fault.
Lincoln leans a little closer. Heat from his skin travels through the sleeve of his ruffled pink shirt and warms my side. The slightest brush makes my skin tingle with excitement.
I could tell he is present in my thoughts, aware of how my body reacts to his touch as his gaze lands on my lips, parting with a breath. My fingers twitch against the cold floor, itching to touch the curls that had formed in his hair since it has dampened from the snow.
"Tomorrow is a new day." His voice is low.
"As if that makes a difference." My attention bounces from his burning gaze back down to his mouth.
"It makes all the difference."
Every ounce of air catches in my chest. I don't move. Don't dare to. Not when I'm terrified that I could ruin this, or make Lincoln feel uncomfortable. Yet, he moves a little closer. Lifting one hand, Lincoln burns a line of fire against my cheek as he traces the shape of my face.
"I don't need a spark," he finally says. His fingers weave through my hair, angling my face to his. Hot breath fans down my chin and neck, his lips surprisingly soft as they brush against mine as he repeats. "I don't need a spark to love you."
His hand is the only thing that holds me up. I go spineless with his nearness and his proclamation. We've said it before and we'd say it again. But somehow every time it left me in disbelief. The world stops for moments like these. Nothing else exists and all my problems melt away when he looks at me as he is now. As he devours my image.
"Fuck sparking," I murmur.
That's all it takes for his lips to be on mine. He closes the fraction of an inch of space between us, wrapping me up in his arms. Our bodies come crashing together, but the kiss itself becomes tender. Both of us are too scared to cross some unspoken line that will send us running in opposite directions.
The universe itself narrows on this one singular kiss. It lasts only a few seconds, but somehow the moment seems to go on and on. I want it to. I wish that it would.
When he pulls away, I can feel the slightest tremor travel through his body. I lift a hand to cup his face, but Lincoln stands swiftly and walks to the bed. Slowly, I close my fingers into a loose fist and drop my hand into my lap.
"The fire only heats this side of the room," he starts, pulling the thick quilts off of the bed. "To stay warm it may be best if we make a little pallet of blankets to lay on."
"Oh." I force myself back up to standing though what I really want to do is fling myself at Lincoln and beg for another kiss.
Ziko shakes the blankets out and begins fanning them out flat, four blankets in total. I reach for the edge encouraging them to lay without wrinkles. With two quilts down, he snatches the pillows off the bed and tosses them at me with half a grin. I'm too distracted by his perfect dimple to catch them properly and I grunt as one smacks me right in the face.
"You catch with your arms, Briar."
Chucking the pillows onto the blankets, I give him a pointed look. He knows exactly why my focus wasn't on the pillows. You can't just kiss a woman after declaring your love and not expect her mind to immediately run to the idea of sucking your dick right out of your pants like a hoover vacuum. Or maybe that's just me.
When he reaches the pillows, he adjusts them slightly before he motions for me to lay down. He repeats the process of fanning the blankets out. They settle over me and I curl up on my side watching Lincoln slip under