caught sight of movement on the front porch and realized someone was there. Good God, she’d almost been seen kissing him!
Chapter Eight
Adam’s usual caution was deserting him where Brooke was concerned. Sparring with her was turning him on, overwhelming his normal good sense. It reminded him a bit of the battlefield, where you had to rely on your intuition but take risks. He leaned toward her, knew she wanted him to—then she gaped as she stared past him out the windshield.
“Someone’s there,” she hissed.
He saw the panic in her face and knew she worried about being seen doing something inappropriate with him, as if she feared being thought unworthy at her job. It softened something inside of him.
Both of them opened their doors and jumped to the ground. A shot of pain went up his thigh, and he silently cursed himself for forgetting to take it easy.
“Hi, Brooke, Adam!” Mrs. Thalberg called.
He gave a short wave.
“Hey, Mom,” Brooke said too loudly. “Just got back from picking up the supplies.”
“Good, good. I’m feeling well enough that I cooked supper tonight. Adam, care to join us?”
“Thank you, ma’am, sounds good.”
“Is a half hour okay?”
“No problem, Mom,” Brooke said. “We’ll just finish up and be inside by then.”
They put a few bags on the porch, then drove around the barn to the single-wide trailer that was used for storage. Adam didn’t speak, and neither did Brooke, but he couldn’t quite read the tension shimmering between them.
At the trailer, she unlocked the door, and he came up the wooden stairs behind her.
She turned around and gave a start. Then she sighed and said tiredly, “Did you have to agree to stay to supper? We’re not doing so well here, you and I.”
As he approached, she backed through the doorway. It was slightly warmer inside, but not much, so he shut the door behind him. He heard her fumbling for the light switch beside the door and caught her hand before she succeeded. Neither of them were wearing gloves, and the shock of skin-on-skin contact was electrifying. Just from touching her hand? he asked himself in disbelief.
“Your mom wants to cook for me from her wheelchair. I should say no?”
“I get it, I know, I’m just . . . upset. Let me turn on the light.”
“There’s a window right here,” he said, his voice growing husky. “She almost saw us kissing in the pickup. Do you want her to see this?”
He turned her around and pushed her up against the door, wishing there were far less bulky clothes between them.
“Adam—” She whispered his name, then broke off.
The last light of day came through the window only faintly, but he could see her wide eyes staring up at him, imagined their hazel swirl of color that kept him so off balance. He didn’t give her a chance to stop him, just leaned in and covered her mouth with his. Everything inside him knew it was wrong, knew he would be embarrassed if Mr. Thalberg discovered what he was doing.
And it didn’t matter, none of it.
All he wanted was to taste her, to lick her lips, to meet her tongue with his own. She tasted of the sweetest sugar with a touch of chocolate.
She moaned and clutched him hard against her. He buried his face against her hair, tempted to pull it down around him, but stopped himself. He nuzzled the sweet-smelling spot behind her neck, licked his way in a path down her neck. She tilted back her head, letting him do what he wanted. There was that citrus scent of summer nights at the equator. He inhaled deeply, letting the smell fill him.
He moved his hands up between their bodies until he reached the zipper of her coat. The sound of it slowly coming down was loud except for their frantic breathing. The coat parted, and he was able to slide his hands around her warm waist, feel the supple movement of her back as she arched with a gasp. He kissed every part of her face as he grabbed handfuls of her shirt in back, lifting up until he could slide his hands beneath to the hot, smooth skin.
They shared a groan and another kiss, and then she was fumbling at the snaps of his jacket, and he was so impatient he could have ripped the thing off himself. But he felt her hands up under his flannel shirt and t-shirt, caressing, skimming. Her fingers were slightly cold, sending a chill of excitement through