He nodded, but he kept staring at her lips as though they were all he could really think about.

“Consider me warned,” she said and slid her hand around his neck to bring his head down to hers.

When he had first come outside, Seth hadn’t been able to feel the cold. He’d been dead inside. But that was no longer true. Now there was a fire growing in his belly that made him feel very much alive and provided more than enough warmth.

Still, he had to think about Tia. Although she was wearing his sweater—and he couldn’t help imagining her in it without anything underneath—he knew it wasn’t thick enough to ward off the cold.

He managed to quit kissing her long enough to ask if she wanted to go in. But she didn’t seem to be worried about the cold any more than he was. She didn’t even answer. She just went right back to kissing him—deep, openmouthed, hungry kisses—so he supposed that was his answer.

She didn’t stop him when he started to take off her clothes. He craved her bare skin against his worse than he could remember craving anything in a very long time. “Thank you,” he murmured as soon as her warm breasts came up against his chest.

Briefly, the vision of the painting he’d created earlier rose in his mind. This was what had inspired the swirling reds he’d used so heavily: they represented desire more than anything else.

She was trembling. Just in case it was from the cold, he led her into the hot tub and supported her back with one arm as he lowered his head to pull her nipple into his mouth.

The testosterone flooding his system made him feel invincible, strong enough to lift a house. But more importantly, he finally had a constructive channel for his emotions. And he was so caught up, so desperate for that release, he had to lift his head to try to catch his breath or it would all be over in seconds. He told himself to slow down, but she seemed to be in as much of a hurry as he was. She immediately guided him between her legs, which was exactly where he wanted to be.

That brought up the issue of birth control, however. He had no condoms, not even in the house. He hadn’t bought a pack in years; he hadn’t been with anyone since Shiloh died.

He opened his mouth to tell Tia they would have to do something else, but birth control must’ve occurred to her at the same moment, because she answered his question before he could even ask it. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, her voice slightly hoarse. “I can’t get pregnant. And I don’t have anything.”

“Neither do I. But...you’re on the pill?”

“Sort of.”