Leo ambled over, grabbed a thick quilt from a basket and tucked it around me. I was surprised when he settled onto the small couch beside me, then tapped his lap. My mouth went dry as the very clear image of him holding me in his lap flared to life in my mind. I could practically feel the warmth pouring from his chest, how his strong arms supported me, and the way his fingers glided across my skin in a gentle caress.
"Give me your feet." His clear command snapped me free of my thoughts, and I frowned at him, not understanding.
"My feet?" I looked down at them. They were bare, my wet socks stripped off and set by the fireplace to dry.
"Yes. Your feet. I'll warm them up."
He didn't move or shift, just sat there waiting expectantly, so I did as he said. As soon as my feet were in his lap, he adjusted the blanket so I was covered from nose to toes, and then his large hands wrapped around my right foot.
He kneaded the arch, warm fingers digging in and my head dropped back against the arm of the couch. It was a stark contrast, the heat of his skin against the chill of mine, and yet the perfect pressure he was using made me relax. I was putty in his hands, literally, and I yielded to the need to rest. My eyes drifted closed, and I moaned a little as he massaged a sore spot on the ball of my feet. He seemed to freeze, but before I could muster enough thought to ask if he was okay, his fingers were moving again, and I was swept away on a tide of relaxation.
It was bliss. I wasn't asleep, just relaxed. And slowly, with every sweep and press of his fingers as he worked one footand then the other, the pain I'd felt in them receded, warmth returning to my skin and spreading up my body.
Once he was satisfied with my feet, he began to work his way up my calves, sliding a little closer so he could support my legs without hurting my knees. This couldn't be real. Not truly. What mountain man existed that rescued women and their Christmas gifts from stalled cars in a massive blizzard, and then offered a free massage in front of a roaring fire?
Maybe this was the magic of Christmas, working for me.
Though it occurred to me as I lay there, my body warm, my muscles releasing tension with every sure stroke of his fingers, that it didn't look like Christmas here. There were no decorations, no gifts, no lights or tinsel - not even a tree. I'd stumbled through a winter wood into a cabin that showed no signs of celebration.
The thought of celebration had me stirring, a memory of my earlier panic returning.
"I have to get the gifts delivered." I mumbled the words, surprised at the way they ran together, the dozed way they came out of my mouth.
"Shh," said Leo, and he didn't sound angry or stern, even. His voice was soothing, a comfortable deep rumble that made me relax once more. "We've got time. The storm will blow over soon."
I wanted to open my eyes, question him further, but I couldn't find the energy.
So, I gave in and let sleep take me over.
6
LEO
I'm relieved when her breathing evens out and I know she's finally asleep. She needs it after the trial she's endured. Especially if she still expects to get those presents delivered once the storm breaks.
Rubbing her feet and legs had been purposeful, of course. The goal was to encourage the blood flow into her extremities as it should, warming her up and preventing damage. The fact that I'd enjoyed every second of it, savored the moans she probably didn't even know were escaping her when I hit a tender or tense spot, wasn't the point. Even if it did make me wonder what else I could do that would coax more of those sounds from her.
The wind outside wasn't screaming any longer, though I could still feel the occasional heavy gust when it hit the cabin, making it shake with the force. Not ideal, but better than it had been.
My brain, primed for threat assessment, considered the storm, and the best route to take away from the cabin when the opportunity presented itself. Even if I didn't believe in Christmas, the woman resting beside me did, and the trust she'dplaced in me was hard to shake off. Her insistence that she make good on her promise was something I could relate to. Her word mattered to her. She had honor.
That was a concept I understood.
The whole point of giving soldiers leave was to give them a break from the constant need to be on high alert. To be somewhere they felt safe, so their bodies and minds could recover from the consistent high stress environments they were often in. I hadn't been able to relax even a fraction since I'd been here. Hadn't been able to sleep, not really, or even sit still. That was why I'd been outside when the storm started, because I couldn't stand being in the confines of the cabin walls. I'd even complained to myself when the snow started to blow in, because it meant coming back to this place where I'd have to spend time, silent and alone, and be left climbing the walls once more.
But the storm had gifted me more than I expected. If I hadn't turned around when I did, if I hadn't cut through toward the road to make the going easier, I'd have missed the flash of light that warned me something was wrong. I'd have missed finding her.
The idea of that left me instantly cold. Looking at Celeste, the way she was sleeping so easily even with my hands on her, her head tilted to the side, and her long dark hair spread out around her, I was grateful. Because even for this short time, I wasn't alone, and she'd offered me a reason to keep going. A purpose.
My eyes drifted closed as I watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the rhythm of her breathing soothing me, and I stopped fighting for a moment.
I let myself rest.
7
CELESTE
I'm warm and completely relaxed when my eyes slowly open. The heavy quilt is the perfect comforting weight and I'm suddenly aware that Leo's hand is resting just below my knee. His fingers are curved around my leg, and I have a fleeting impression that he's almost clinging to me.
