“I know.”
She looked over at his gravelly tone. “Did you lose someone suddenly?”
“I lost everyone suddenly,” he told her. “My parents and my sister.”
“What?” Her voice cracked as she reached over to put a hand on his knee. “Fitz, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Was it a car accident like my parents?”
“A different sort of accident. But it was just as sudden. I know how it feels. I know, Belinda.” He covered her hand on his knee with one of his own.
She wanted to ask him more questions, but she didn’t want to force him to open up. So she didn’t push it. They sat that way for a minute, and the warm strength of his hand on hers was like a lifeline.
Until he finally withdrew it.
She pulled her hand back quickly. “I was watching White Christmas,” she said, suddenly self-conscious of the intimacy between them when it had never existed before. “Do you like that movie?”
“Sure. But I don’t have to stay if you’d rather—”
“I’d like you to stay.”
He nodded and reached for another cookie while she started up the movie. They finished it and then started another Christmas musical.
They finished the plate of cookies, and before the second movie was over, Belinda had fallen asleep.
Five
FITZ WOKE UP ON THE couch with Belinda all over him.
All. Over. Him.
She’d fallen asleep during the second movie and had unconsciously leaned over against his shoulder. Although he’d known he should have rearranged them since she’d never have gotten cuddly with him like that if she was awake, he’d liked it so much he’d stayed completely still, enjoying the warmth of her body, the soft flutter of her hair, the rhythm of her breathing.
He’d intended to indulge himself for only a few minutes before he gently moved her back over and got up to go home. But the few minutes stretched out to more until he was closing his eyes and adjusting his legs. At some point, he’d gone to sleep too.
Which was how he’d ended up there—stretched out on Belinda’s sofa with her sleeping body on top of him.
He was stiff. One foot and one arm were asleep. He was overly hot, and Belinda’s long, loose hair was tickling his neck.
And he was hard.
Achingly, throbbingly hard.
He choked back a groan as he processed his condition and the fact that Belinda was completely unconscious of the way she was snuggling into his body.
She felt so good. Soft and hot and feminine and sensual. She smelled faintly like vanilla and peppermint—some combination of the hair and body products she must have used. He wanted to keep holding her. Keep breathing her in. He wanted to rub his pulsing body against hers hard and fast.
He wanted...
A lot of things he wasn’t allowed to have.
With a surge of bleak will, he managed to lift her up and ease her off him so he could extricate his body. Although he tried to be careful, the motion woke her up. She gasped and blinked and lifted her head as Fitz lurched stiffly to his feet.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
“Sorry. We fell asleep.”
“We did? What time is it?” She was utterly delectable—tousled and groggy and confused.
He had to literally turn his back to her in order to keep himself from reaching down and pulling her into his arms. “I don’t know. Late. Or early.” He remembered he had a phone in his pocket, so he pulled it out to look. “It’s just after five. Christmas morning.”
“Oh.” She still hadn’t fully woken up, and the proof was in the way her face softened as she gazed up at him. “Merry Christmas, Fitz.”
He made a choked sound and turned away again. This was not good. Not for his body and not for his heart. People weren’t made to want this much and never have hope of being satisfied.
“Fitz?” She was getting up off the couch. He could hear the shift in her position, even though he still didn’t dare to look.
“Merry Christmas,” he managed to grit out.
“Are you okay? You didn’t have to stay with me all night. I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable or it’s made it weird and awkward now.”
“It’s fine.” He had to look at her. If he didn’t, she’d figure out what was going on with him. Or, even worse, he’d end up hurting her feelings. “It’s not weird or awkward. People fall asleep sometimes.”
“I didn’t snore or do anything embarrassing, did I?” She was searching his face, as if she were trying to read his mind.
He couldn’t possibly let her read it right now. The tidal wave of hunger, desire, and need she would find there would terrify her. “No,” he managed to say in a semblance of his normal voice. “You didn’t do anything embarrassing. Or, if you did, I wasn’t awake to see it.”
She laughed softly, darting him a quick, shy look that nearly knocked the breath out of him. “Okay. Well, you can get going if you need to. Thanks for all your help last night.”
“You’re welcome.” He took a deep breath, relieved that escape was in sight but also having to fight to turn toward the door. “It was no problem. Merry Christmas.”
She was smiling again. Like she genuinely appreciated him. Like he was special. Like he mattered to her in a way he’d never dreamed. “Merry Christmas to you too.” She went to the door and opened it as he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other and walk away from her.
He’d made it out into the cold, damp air and to the porch steps when she stopped him by saying, “Fitz.”
He turned his head back toward her but not his body. He didn’t dare do that. “Yes?”
“Thank you,” she murmured, meeting his gaze. “Seriously. Thank you for everything. For helping with the fence. For making me feel better. For staying with me. Thank you. It... it meant a lot.”
He gulped. Nodded because he didn’t dare let himself speak for a few seconds. He finally managed to get out, “You’re welcome.”
Then he left her before he did what he really wanted. Kiss her and never stop.
HE WENT TO CHECK ON his temporary repairs on the fence before he left the yard. Belinda was already back inside as he was closing the little gate to the picket fence.
When he turned back to the street, he suddenly realized he wasn’t alone. There was a man there. Paused in front of Belinda’s house. Dressed for jogging. Puffing from exercise.
“Hey, Ken,” Fitz said, trying to sound casual even though his heart had leaped into his throat as if he were a teenager caught out after curfew. “You’re up early.”
“Yeah.” Ken was the sheriff and had a laid-back aura of quiet authority that was very effective. “Woke up for some reason so I thought I’d run early before Madeline gets up.”
He sounded relaxed, but even in the dim streetlight, Fitz could see his eyes moving from his face to Belinda’s house.
“Nothing happened,” Fitz blurted out.
Ken wiped his forehead with the back of his forearm and smiled. “Not my business.”
“I know. But the last thing Belinda would want is for folks to start to gossip about something that never happened. She’d hate that.”