THE WEATHER WAS FREEZING, but warmth flooded Lily. The sight of Scott’s bare back sent a liquid heat through her. Smooth skin and firm muscle sculpted over a masculine frame left her breathless. Even as she indulged in the sensation of her fingers gliding over him, she longed to touch even more.
She told herself she was being absurd. Inappropriate even, lusting after her boss. But Scott hadn’t been authoritarian or demanding today—only kind and encouraging. His bravery made her less daunted by their circumstances. She was still afraid. Still worried and grieving. But being with him comforted her. And thinking about him—how she wanted to pull off the rest of his clothing, kiss her way down his body and have him kiss her—was a welcome distraction from the fears that threatened to overwhelm her.
They shared their meager meal, passing the cup of coffee back and forth between them, then making a second cup. Even without sugar and creamer the bitter caffeine was a welcome jolt, the hot liquid beating back the cold. They built up the fire until it was a roaring blaze, then huddled before it on the fallen log, soaking up the heat. Neither of them mentioned the risk they were taking—that the blaze might lead pursuers to them. But without the warmth of the fire, they would surely freeze to death. “How are you doing?” Scott asked after a while.
“I’m warmer now,” she said. “Not as hungry as I was. What about you?”
“I’m okay. Warmer is most important. And the coffee helped, too.”
“I take supplies in my pack every year, hiking and skiing,” she said. “It’s been drilled in to me by every wilderness guide I ever read and every instructor I ever had. But I never had to use them before this week. This is the second time in a few days that I’ve had to spend the night out when I didn’t intend to.”
“I’ve spent nights out on missions,” he said. “I stayed out two nights before they found Clark.”
His words were matter-of-fact, but she heard the loss behind them. “Were you alone?”
“I didn’t really want to be around anyone else.”
“After my brother, Ben, died, I didn’t want to talk to anyone else either,” she said. “It’s like grief put a wall between me and other people. I was angry that Ben was gone—and angry at everyone else because they couldn’t understand how much I hurt.”
“I was mostly angry at myself. That I couldn’t save him.”
She wanted to tell him his friend’s death wasn’t his fault. But people always said things like that to suffering people, and the words didn’t help. Instead, she slipped her hand into his and leaned on his arm. He held on tightly. They didn’t say anything for a long time. The fire popped and sent up orange sparks, and the wet wood on the edge of the blaze sizzled and steamed. She breathed in the sweet, smoky aroma of burning pinion and juniper and felt her eyes drifting shut.
“We should try to get some sleep,” Scott said. He unwound his fingers from hers.
“We should share my sleeping bag,” she said. His was with his pack, up on the ridge.
“I’ll just sit up and tend the fire.”
“That’s ridiculous.” She stood and grabbed the bag from her pack, unrolled and unzipped it and spread it by the fire. “Two of us will generate more heat than one.” Then she bit her lip, holding back laughter at her unintentional joke.
Maybe he was thinking the same thing. She thought his cheeks flushed, though perhaps that was merely from the cold. She turned her back to him and stripped down to socks and thermal top and pants, then lay down on the sleeping bag and beckoned him. “Come on. If I let you freeze to death I’ll never get out of these woods.”
Chapter Sixteen
Scott’s expression in the firelight was grim, but he peeled down to his long underwear and slid in beside her. With the bag mostly zipped it was a tight fit, but if they spooned together they could manage. It was comfortable even, and much warmer.
Those classes she had taken had taught that this was what people did to survive in the cold. But they never talked about the intimacy of lying with her bottom snugged against his crotch, his very evident erection pressed against her in a way that had her struggling to control her breathing. She wriggled, trying to get comfortable, and heard his gasp. At this rate, neither of them was going to sleep tonight.
She reached back and took his hand and wrapped his arm around her, his fingers splayed across her stomach. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” he said, his voice soft in her ear.
“Are you saying you won’t respect me in the morning?” She meant it as a joke, but part of her was serious. If she gave in to desire and had sex with him tonight, would it jeopardize her job?
“I will always respect you,” he said. “But how will you feel about me?”
She wanted to turn and face him, to try to read the expression in his eyes. But that was impossible to do in the confines of the sleeping bag. “Scott, I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow,” she said. “All I know is that right now, I want you.” To make sure he got the message, she guided his hand down,toward her crotch. He cupped her hard, and she caught her breath before releasing a long sigh.
He kissed her neck, and his tongue traced the line of her collarbone. “Maybe I’ve been harder on you than everyone else because I was afraid of how much I’m attracted to you,” he said. His voice was low and rough, abrading her nerves. She squirmed against him, and he squeezed her hip, stilling her.
“You’re…attracted to me?” she asked, the last word a squeak as he gently rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
“I’ve had dreams about you.” He slid his hand beneath her shirt and cupped her breast.
“What kind of dreams?”
“Inappropriate ones.”
All she could do was moan as he slid his hand down her body, coming to rest between her legs once more. When he didn’t do anything more, she ground against him. “I need you to touch me,” she said.
