Page 12 of All She Wants

“For tonight.”

Erin swallowed hard. Two words should not have sent that much heat between her thighs.

Claire lowered their joined hands but did not release her. “When the road opens and I’m sober, I’m going to make this very easy for you.”

Erin glanced toward the snow-covered windows. “I knew I should have become a snowplow driver. I’d be out there risking my life to clear that snow.”

“Instead of owning an elegant boutique devoted to women’s pleasure?”

“I assumed this profession offered better fringe benefits.”

“I’m learning that people are very grateful when you rescue them from avalanches.”

“Yes. Yes, I know. A serious gap in my career planning.”

Claire laughed out loud, and Erin felt it everywhere their bodies still touched. “When we’re together by choice and not forced by circumstance, I’ll tell you exactly where I want your hands.” Her thumb stroked once across Erin’s palm. “And I promise, you won’t have to wonder whether I chose it.”

Erin stared at her. Every responsible thought in her head scattered like startled fish.

Claire settled back against the loveseat with a ridiculously big grin. “There. Now we’re being responsible.”

“Your promise was your version of helping?”

“No.” Claire’s eyes moved over her face before lingering on her mouth. “That was me making sure you have something to think about all night.”

“You vastly overestimated how much help I needed.”

Claire smiled. “Good.”

For several seconds, neither of them moved. Erin remained close enough to kiss her again, which made getting off the loveseat feel like an act of heroism no one would ever properly appreciate.

“We should figure out how to sleep without freezing,” Erin said.

“Far less interesting than our previous topic.”

“Unfortunately, more urgent.”

Erin stood and offered Claire her hand. Claire let Erin pull her to her feet, then stopped close enough to make that sensible decision feel immediately questionable. Erin reluctantly released her and crossed to the wood stove. She fed it another log and watched the flames curl around it. The heat pushed outward in a generous wave, but three feet beyond its reach the boutique had turned genuinely cold. She could feel the temperature difference against her ankles when she stepped away from the stove.

“The loveseat is the closest thing we have to a bed,” she said, nodding toward the velvet cushions. “It’s all yours.”

Claire looked at the loveseat, then back at Erin. “And where do you plan to sleep?”

“The back room has an office chair that reclines. I’ve fallen asleep in it before during inventory nights.”

“An office chair.”

“It reclines.”

“You said that.” She crossed her arms over her cashmere sweater and studied Erin until it became clear that she had already rejected the idea.

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ve slept in worse. My first apartment in Queens had a futon that folded in the middle like a taco every time I rolled over.”

“I’m not going to lie on the only comfortable surface in this building while you curl up in an office chair pretending your neck isn’t kinked.”

Erin opened her mouth to argue, but Claire had already moved past her toward the loveseat and had begun pulling the seat cushions free. She stacked them on the rug beside the stove, tested the thickness by pressing her palm flat against the pile, and looked up.