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It’s fun ordering the big blacksmith around and I wonder how much more I might get away with. Then of course come the questions and insecurities. Who has ever listened to me anyway? I follow the rules and obey the orders. I don’t make them.

Maybe I do need to listen to my own observations. Nothing has to stay the same if it isn’t working. Change can be good. Difficult but necessary. Change was why I came to the mountains. This change in my planned change is important for me to accept and figure out. And that’s too much thinking for tonight.

After stacking the dishes in the sink, I retrieve the muscle rub from the bathroom. Knight watches me cross the tiny room then pulls off his shirt and points to the couch. “If you’re determined to do this…”

“I am.”

“Then you sit there and I’ll sit on the floor in front of you. Make it easier to reach my shoulder.” He waits until I’m settled then sits and scoots back until his wide shoulders spread my thighs. “Okay?”

Ooh, yeah. My imagination goes into overdrive with other ways his body might fit between my legs. My response is breathy. “Okay. Yes. Now lean forward just a tiny bit.”

I warm the ointment releasing the smell of menthol and camphor and wrinkle my nose. Not my favorite aromas but if it helps ease his discomfort then I’ll survive. He gasps softly when I press my hands to his shoulder then gives a low moan as I massage in the ointment.

“That’s good.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t work so hard.”

“It’s part of being a metal worker, Clover. Hard, muscle stressing work. Satisfying … oh yeah. That’s the spot… satisfying work. At least for me.”

“Earlier today you asked what I wanted to do with my life.”

He nods then lets his head fall forward as I move my hands to the base of his neck on the way to his other shoulder.

“I’ve never told anyone this before.”

“I’m honored.”

“I’ve always wanted to do something creative. I tried drawing, but I’m not the best at that. Pottery was fun and I did well, if you consider pots that lean to one side successful. When I was in high school I worked with fabric, made quilts. I loved that, creating patterns out of different pieces, how the fabric felt as I sewed the pieces together. But my dad was restless. We never stayed in one place more than six to nine months. My folks made me give up my sewing machine and boxes of material because they were too much to move.”

The pain of loss from all those years ago settles over me like a shroud. I didn’t realize I still carried so much of that pain around with me. No wonder I seldom attempt new creative projects.

“I’m sorry you had to give up something you enjoyed.” Knight’s words are soft and honest. He’s not just saying he’s sorry because that’s what’s expected. He really does care.

“My parents… aren’t supportive. Of me. That was just another way to keep me under their control. There was always plenty of room for my sister’s things. I’m mostly over it.”

“Clover?” He angles to look up at me and holds my gaze for a long moment. I’m unable to read his expression as he takes my hands and pulls me forward. Then I’m sitting on his thighs and his arms wrap tightly around me. “I wish I could make the past better for you.”

I rest my hands on his shoulders, my fingers flexing against his warm skin. His head lowers slowly like he wants to kiss me. He’s almost tentative, giving me the opportunity to pull away. That’s not what I want. Not what I imagined too many times today. Now I’m getting the chance to experience his kiss. My sigh brings his smile.

His beard tickles my cheek before his firm lips brush across mine. His lips move slowly, softly caressing and teasing. I haven’t had that much experience with kissing or much of anything else in the dating realm but I’m certain he’s one of the best.

I slide one of my hands forward, dipping lower over his chest until my palm rests over his heart. It’s beating hard, or maybe I’m feeling my own accelerated pulse.

A rumbling growl sounds from deep in his throat as he nips at my lower lip then soothes the sting with a slow swipe of his tongue. My lips part and I welcome his exploration and how he dances his tongue against mine.

Too soon he inches back. “We probably shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to take advantage of you, darlin’.”

Oh, he called me ‘darlin’. That single word shoots desire and longing straight to my core. I never, ever considered myself easy. But for him… “You’re not. Kiss me again.”

He cups my face between his palms and studies me. “If that’s what you want. Not what you think I want.”

My aroused brain attempts to figure that out with no luck. “Yes, it’s what I want.”

This kiss isn’t as gentle. Definitely not tentative. Somehow I end up straddling one of his thighs. The long, hard evidence of his arousal presses against my leg. I struggle to remain still when all I want—need to do is rub against him.