“Yeah, me either.” Carefully easing her off his shoulder, he helped her sit on the floor and then grabbed an old piece of four-by-four wood that he propped under her outstretched leg to elevate it.
“Thanks.” Her expression was flat, and he recognized the look from when she’d been eight and had fallen while trying to climb a six-foot fence. It was Artie’s attempting-not-to-cry face, and it made him frantic. Ripping off his gloves, he dug through the pack and pulled out the first-aid kit. Frowning at the frozen water bottles, he returned them to the pack.
“Here. Take these.” He held out a couple of over-the-counter painkillers. After removing her own gloves, she held out a shaking hand for the pills. As she dry-swallowed the tablets, he eyed her face, not liking the pale undertone of her naturally tan complexion. Derek wondered if she was going into shock or was just cold and tired. Either way, he need to warm her.
Yanking out the emergency blanket, he eased behind her, lifting Artie on his lap without dislodging her leg from the supporting piece of wood. As he opened the blanket and wrapped it around both of them, she settled against his chest with a silent sigh. Alarmed at her atypical docility, he wrapped his arms around her under the blanket, pulling her as close as possible.
He felt her shivering and released her to unzip his jacket and then hers. Artie grabbed his hands, stopping them.
“Hey! I need that,” she protested through chattering teeth. “Unless we could build a fire?”
“I’m just rearranging things,” he said, “so you can take advantage of my incredible hotness. And no fire. Not with all this dry wood and the firebug’s box of accelerants.”
As she made a disappointed sound, he slid her coat off her arms and quickly moved it around to her front, wrapping it around her like a reversed cape. When she leaned her back against his chest, their bodies now separated only by a few thin layers, she gave a purr of contentment. The sound was so unintentionally sexy that he had to close his eyes and take a couple of deep breaths to get his body under control.
“Not to feed your ego,” she said, apparently unaware of what she was doing to him, “but you really are incredibly hot.”
His laugh was rough around the edges as he rearranged the emergency blanket to cover them. “Told you.”
By the time he snaked his arms around her waist under her draped coat, Artie had stopped shivering. They both fell silent as she rested against him, finally getting warm again in their nest of coats and blanket and body heat. Derek realized his palms had flattened against her belly and one of his fingers just brushed her bare skin where the hem of her shirt had bunched. As if his hands had a life of their own, they slid a little lower, until that fingertip had slipped under the waistband of her jeans.
“Derek,” she breathed, and it clearly wasn’t a protest.
As his hands rubbed up and down her stomach, slipping farther in each direction with every pass, she tilted her face toward him. In the indirect light from the flashlight lying next to them, he could see the kaleidoscope of emotions playing across her face. There was so much love and longing in her expression that he couldn’t breathe for a long second. Moving one hand from her stomach so he could cup her cheek, he lowered his mouth to hers.
As soon as they touched, it was as if a match had been tossed in the bag of flammables sharing the cabin with them. He couldn’t kiss her deeply enough, couldn’t touch her enough. The truth finally sank in, striking him hard—she was actually his again. Artie—gorgeous, smart, funny, sexy-as-hell Artemis Rey—was in his arms and, from the way she squirmed and moaned under his touch, she wanted him.
The knowledge triggered an inferno that blazed through his body. His mouth met hers with bruising force, and she kissed him back just as hard. Their tongues battled for dominance, and their teeth nipped and pulled. Derek loved it. It was her bossy side coming out to play, and nothing turned him on more than when she showed just how strong and fierce she truly was.
Needing to touch her, he slid one hand under her shirt, brushing her soft, soft skin until he cupped her breast through her bra. The sound she made against his lips vibrated through him, making his hips lift and press against her. His fingers tugged the fabric down, desperately wanting to really feel her, skin to skin.
Her teeth sank almost painfully into his bottom lip as his thumb strummed her rigid nipple, and she moaned her approval into his mouth. He repeated the move, loving how sensitive she was, how quickly his touch excited her. Freeing her other breast, he divided his attention between her perfect chest and her just-as-perfect mouth.
Touching her, kissing her, feeling her respond—it was all driving him crazy. He’d never been so hard and, at the same time, so focused on someone else. It didn’t matter if he got off or not—this was all about Artie. He’d waited too long to have her in his arms again, and he was determined to make her so happy that she never wanted to leave.
This is Artie, he thought, amazed and exhilarated. All his memories and dreams of her were nothing compared to the reality of actually holding her, both of them shaking from arousal instead of the cold. His other hand unbuttoned her pants and worked beneath the layers of fabric, until his fingers found her wet and so, so warm.
Tearing his mouth from hers, he buried his face in the side of her neck, breathing hard. The feel of her was destroying his control, and he fought to get it back, even as his fingers slid into her. Her body tightened around him, and he groaned, closing his teeth gently on her shoulder. Giving her pleasure was more arousing to him than actual sex with anyone else.
He tried to ignore the desperate need coursing through his body as he lightly circled and stroked, his fingers effortlessly remembering what she liked best. Clenching his teeth as he tried to cling to his control, he lifted his head so he could watch her face. He was rock hard and hurting, but it didn’t change his focus. Her hips lifted toward his hand, and she made those soft sounds that drove him wild. He moved his hand faster, drove his fingers deeper, until her gasps and cries filled his ears. Her body arched and shuddered as she came, so beautiful in the dim light that he couldn’t look away.
His fingers slowed as her body softened and her breathing grew more even. Reluctantly, he withdrew his hands, although he kept his arms wrapped around her. Letting her go was not an option. Never again.
“Your name fits you,” he said quietly when she finally slumped, boneless, against his chest. “You really are a goddess.”
Her reply was a sleepy chuckle. “It doesn’t really fit anymore.”
“Why not?” He straightened her clothes and rearranged the coats and blankets to cover them.
“Artemis was thevirgingoddess,” she explained in a yawn, making him laugh. Her eyelids started to droop, but then she straightened. “Wait. What about you?”
“What about me? I’m no virgin goddess either.”
She snorted, blushing at the same time. “That’s for sure. I meant that you didn’t…” She gestured in the general vicinity of his aching lap.
“What?” he teased. “Don’t tell me your extensive vocabulary is failing you?”
“Stop it.” She tried to swat at him, but the muffling layers of coats and the blanket thwarted her efforts. “You know what I mean. You didn’t get to come.”
