control the growing desperation of his inner wolf, who wanted to tug her back and keep her close.
Mine!
He managed to keep all that down and only crack open one eyelid. In the fire of dawn, Heather was practically glowing. She took two steps across the tiny cottage, fumbled with the coffee maker, then reached for some clothes. So soon? Was she ready to let this night pass?
Maybe not entirely because she hesitated, and then dropped the clothes. Gloriously naked, she stepped out the back door. It was a sight reserved for Cody’s eyes only, thanks to the high stockade fence surrounding the small property. She unrolled a mat and settled cross-legged on it, arms reaching up to frame Venus in the pinkish-yellow light of dawn.
Yoga. She was doing yoga. Much as Cody preferred her at his side, he kept still and soaked in the view. With the leisurely stretch of a sleepy cat, she rose and faced the east. A satisfied cat with a full stomach and a warm place to bask. The fear was down to a mere whiff now, the nightmare pushed far, far away. A rush of pride registered in his gut, knowing that part of her calm came from having him there. He could feel it the same way he could feel a solid lump in his chest—one that pulsed with every beat of his heart, whispering.
Home. This is home.
Not the place, but the person. He was sure of it.
Surer still when she let him pad over and sit wordlessly in the doorway with a mug of coffee, watching her. She carried on, a smile playing on her lips as she worked through a series of balances and stretches in a pantomime of nature. She was a waking cat, a steady oak, a hovering bird, each move melting into the next. Dancer, dreamer, beauty: Heather was all of those things.
She came to her knees, reached high, and extended one leg to the side. Reaching her arms wide, she paused, then slowly leaned over the outstretched leg. Palm skyward, she swooped up, hand scooping the air like a flower waking in the desert. Cody found himself suspended between arousal and artistic delight. After she repeated the move on the other side, she straightened on her knees and paused. An invitation?
He lowered his mug to the floor and came over silently to kneel behind her on the mat. He eased into contact, keeping his hands light on her waist. Her skin captured the essence of sunrise: pastel-soft and warm. Her body supple, contoured just right for his frame. His heart skipped when she resumed the routine, making him part of her. As she leaned left and held the stretch, he ran a finger down the inside of her outstretched arm, holding his breath the whole time. Like a bird stretching its wings, she swept upward. He was beneath those wings now, marveling at their grace. His hands went back to her ribs, light, loose, not wanting to interfere with her flight. Stretch, slide, up; he echoed each of her moves then added his own.
A kiss on the shoulder, a brush of her breast. Heather continued her routine, quivering now. He cupped her breasts, feeling them lean and lift as she went through the moves. He could smell her desire, taste her pleasure. It was dizzying, knowing what he could make her feel, knowing the power she wielded over him at the same time. He licked a finger and worked her nipples until they were hard and high, visibly straining for more. His chest was against her back now, ears tuned to her breath. They were slow, steady breaths that he would have copied if he weren’t afraid to let out a groan. So he worked his lips against a smooth shoulder instead. There. He’d forsake oxygen for the next few minutes and breathe in Heather instead.
She settled into a seated position, the soles of her feet meeting as her knees dropped apart. For all her tension last night, she was now sage and serene. He settled behind her, cradling her between his legs. A thrill went through him when she leaned back and pushed her knees wider, inviting him to explore. His fingers slid slowly, gradually, past her curls and into her folds. That
Mine!
He managed to keep all that down and only crack open one eyelid. In the fire of dawn, Heather was practically glowing. She took two steps across the tiny cottage, fumbled with the coffee maker, then reached for some clothes. So soon? Was she ready to let this night pass?
Maybe not entirely because she hesitated, and then dropped the clothes. Gloriously naked, she stepped out the back door. It was a sight reserved for Cody’s eyes only, thanks to the high stockade fence surrounding the small property. She unrolled a mat and settled cross-legged on it, arms reaching up to frame Venus in the pinkish-yellow light of dawn.
Yoga. She was doing yoga. Much as Cody preferred her at his side, he kept still and soaked in the view. With the leisurely stretch of a sleepy cat, she rose and faced the east. A satisfied cat with a full stomach and a warm place to bask. The fear was down to a mere whiff now, the nightmare pushed far, far away. A rush of pride registered in his gut, knowing that part of her calm came from having him there. He could feel it the same way he could feel a solid lump in his chest—one that pulsed with every beat of his heart, whispering.
Home. This is home.
Not the place, but the person. He was sure of it.
Surer still when she let him pad over and sit wordlessly in the doorway with a mug of coffee, watching her. She carried on, a smile playing on her lips as she worked through a series of balances and stretches in a pantomime of nature. She was a waking cat, a steady oak, a hovering bird, each move melting into the next. Dancer, dreamer, beauty: Heather was all of those things.
She came to her knees, reached high, and extended one leg to the side. Reaching her arms wide, she paused, then slowly leaned over the outstretched leg. Palm skyward, she swooped up, hand scooping the air like a flower waking in the desert. Cody found himself suspended between arousal and artistic delight. After she repeated the move on the other side, she straightened on her knees and paused. An invitation?
He lowered his mug to the floor and came over silently to kneel behind her on the mat. He eased into contact, keeping his hands light on her waist. Her skin captured the essence of sunrise: pastel-soft and warm. Her body supple, contoured just right for his frame. His heart skipped when she resumed the routine, making him part of her. As she leaned left and held the stretch, he ran a finger down the inside of her outstretched arm, holding his breath the whole time. Like a bird stretching its wings, she swept upward. He was beneath those wings now, marveling at their grace. His hands went back to her ribs, light, loose, not wanting to interfere with her flight. Stretch, slide, up; he echoed each of her moves then added his own.
A kiss on the shoulder, a brush of her breast. Heather continued her routine, quivering now. He cupped her breasts, feeling them lean and lift as she went through the moves. He could smell her desire, taste her pleasure. It was dizzying, knowing what he could make her feel, knowing the power she wielded over him at the same time. He licked a finger and worked her nipples until they were hard and high, visibly straining for more. His chest was against her back now, ears tuned to her breath. They were slow, steady breaths that he would have copied if he weren’t afraid to let out a groan. So he worked his lips against a smooth shoulder instead. There. He’d forsake oxygen for the next few minutes and breathe in Heather instead.
She settled into a seated position, the soles of her feet meeting as her knees dropped apart. For all her tension last night, she was now sage and serene. He settled behind her, cradling her between his legs. A thrill went through him when she leaned back and pushed her knees wider, inviting him to explore. His fingers slid slowly, gradually, past her curls and into her folds. That
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