“Don’t make it weird,” I growled, already unzipping my sleeping bag. “It’s basic survival. Evelyn packed the bags that can zip together.”
He watched me with those damn hazel eyes as I efficiently connected our sleeping bags into one larger one. My hands moved with practiced skill while my mind screamed at me about what a terrible idea this was. But I couldn’t let him freeze. No matter how complicated things were between us, that wasn’t an option.
“Scoot over,” I ordered, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Jesse reluctantly shifted to make room, and I slid in beside him, immediately feeling the chill radiating from his body. Christ, he was like ice. Without giving myself time to reconsider, I wrapped my arms around him, pulling his back against my chest.
“This is just for warmth,” I said firmly, as much to myself as to him. “Nothing else.”
“R-right,” Jesse stammered, his body rigid against mine. “Just s-survival.”
Gradually, as my warmth seeped into him, his shivering began to subside. His muscles relaxed incrementally, his breathing becoming more regular. I tried to focus on anything but the feeling of him pressed against me. I listened to the sound of the storm, mentally listed the tasks we’d need to complete once it passed, and counted the cattle waiting in the high meadow.
“Better?” I asked after several minutes had passed.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “S-Still cold though.”
He wasn’t lying. I gritted my teeth, knowing this was a bad move. “Take off your shirt,” I said, pulling away from him as I peeled my own off. “Skin to skin heats up faster.”
I heard Jesse’s sharp intake of breath, felt him tense up against me.
“I... I don’t think that’s necessary,” he said, but his teeth were still chattering slightly.
“It is,” I insisted, trying to keep my voice even. “This isn’t my first rodeo with hypothermia, Jesse. I’ve seen men lose fingers up here.”
He hesitated another moment, then reluctantly pulled his sweater over his head. In the dim light of the tent, I could make out the tribal tattoos running down his right arm, dark against his pale skin. He’d gotten those after he left. I wondered what they meant to him.
When he settled back against me, the contact of skin on skin sent a jolt through me that had nothing to do with the cold. I forced myself to breathe normally, to keep my heart rate steady as I wrapped my arms around him again. His back pressed against my chest, our legs tangled together in the cramped sleeping bag. Despite my deep breaths, I couldnotstop my cock from thickening in my jeans. I just hoped the denim was enough for him not to notice.
“Your heart’s racing,” Jesse murmured, and I realized with horror that he could feel it hammering against his back.
“Just the altitude,” I lied, my voice gruff. “Now shut up and get warm.”
He fell silent, but I could tell he wasn’t asleep. His breathing was too measured, too controlled. Outside, the wind continued to howl, snow piling against our tent. I tried to focus on thesound rather than the feel of Jesse’s skin under my fingertips, the scent of him filling my lungs with every breath.
“I really am sorry,” Jesse said suddenly, his voice barely audible over the storm. “About the freezer, about this morning... about everything.”
I swallowed hard, staring at the back of his head. His hair was still damp from the snow, curling slightly at the nape of his neck. I had the insane urge to press my lips against that spot.
“You don’t need to keep apologizing,” I muttered. “What’s done is done.”
“But that’s just it,” he continued, shifting slightly in my arms. “I’ve never properly apologized for leaving. For hitting Jack. For... for abandoning you.”
My chest tightened. Fifteen years of buried anger and hurt threatened to surface. “Now’s not the time for this conversation.”
“When is the time then?” Jesse challenged, his body tensing against mine. “You’re always running away from talking about anything real.”
“Me?” I scoffed, the words bursting out before I could stop them. “You’re the one who ran, Jesse. Not me.”
He turned in my arms then, facing me in the tight confines of the sleeping bag. Our faces were inches apart, his breath warm on my skin. Those hazel eyes stared into mine, searching for something I wasn’t sure I wanted him to find.
“I was a kid,” he said softly. “And the more I think about it, so were you.”
“What the hell difference does it make?” I asked, trying to avoid his gaze. Instead, I ended up looking at those pink lips of his, wondering how they’d taste. “It’s in the past now.”
“It is,” he replied. “But it’s obviously still haunting both of us. You… You stillhateme.”
“Jesse,” I sighed, shaking my head. “I don’t… I don’thateyou.”
