He squeezed her again, to still her, maybe. But of course, with her, it had the opposite effect. She undulated against him, half turning onto her back, forcing him back, too. And then, he just had to see her, so he unzipped the bag, letting in air so cold it made them both gasp.
Her breasts were big, their tips dark and tight. “Damn, you’re beautiful.” Beneath them, her ribs were visible, definitely sharper than they’d been back at the base. Two weeks of hard trekking would do that to a person. But he could picture the way she’d looked with more meat on her bones, and he liked it. He liked everything about her from the warm, bright sparkle in her eyes to the fact that she was kicking her pants the rest of the way off without any prompting. Her eagerness was a mirror of his—a magnifying glass.
And maybe, just maybe he could let loose with Angel. Maybe he could be himself. If he could find that person under the layers and layers of restraint.
“Yours, too.”
“Hm?” He blinked blearily.
“Your pants. Get ’em off.”
He hurried to do it, the movements awkward and rushed, and reminiscent of his first time. This sort of felt like a first time. Or the last.
They could die here, still miles from safety.
I want you before I die.
Half-naked, he settled in the junction of her legs, his erection between their bellies. Just as he was about to shift down to remedy that, she tugged at his shirt. “This, too. Off. Or up, if you’re—”
Cold, she’d been about to say. But he didn’t give her time. He was up, shirt shucked, then back over her before she could finish.
Her giggle snapped his eyes to hers.
“What?”
“You’re amazing.”
He frowned. Was she kidding? “What are you—”
“You were always such a detached jerk. On the outside.” When he opened his mouth to interrupt, she put a hand to his lips and stopped him. “But it was an act. I get that now.” Straining up, she put her lips to his and kissed him so tenderly he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. He sifted his fingers through her thick, soft hair and gave in. Gently at first, then deeper, their tongues playing, exploring, they finally learned each other’s faces in the murky light of this place. Their bodies did the same, shifting, sliding, pressing together. Skin to skin. Bliss.
They were in a shitty research hut in Antarctica, but it felt like a five-star hotel. In Paris, he thought. Or someplace like that. Wherever she wanted. Another deep kiss, a shimmy, a wordless promise. He’d take her there.
If they survived this, he’d take her anywhere.
When he opened his eyes, it was like he’d walked through a wall and come out the other side different.
“You’re crying.” He wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of his finger.
“No I’m not.” She smiled and he smiled back, wiping another tear as it leaked straight from her eye. The next one he kissed.
It took a while for him to notice the way her body twisted under his, seeking him out.
He lifted, shifted, then lost his air when her hand reached into the space between them and grasped his erection. She pressed it down, rubbed herself, covering him in her wetness, and notched him against her. Right where he wanted to be.
He emptied his lungs and pressed in. Slowly, caught in her eyes, in her body’s embrace, the slow, tight perfection of it.
One of them moaned.
“Feel so good,” he said.
She bit her bottom lip and nodded.
He couldn’t get purchase with his foot on the too-short cot, so he bent his knees, lifting her thighs, and pressed in. Oh God, that…that was better than his hand. Better than the first time. Better than any sex he’d ever had.
Another push, this one satisfyingly deep. All the way in, though he craved more—an amorphous, inexplicable something else that floated just beyond his comprehension.
But Jesus, Coop wouldn’t tradethisfor the world. Nothing about it. Not the struggle across the ice, not the moment he’d almost lost her. He’d starved for this experience. And he’d suffer again for it. Over and over, if he had to.
