“Carla,” he said, my name coming out rough.
“Yes?”
“I’m going to kiss you.”
“I was hoping you would.”
He rolled toward me, one large hand cupping my face as his mouth found mine. The kiss was nothing like the desperate encounter in the cabin. This was deliberate, thorough, a claiming that made my entire body come alive.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and he responded by deepening the kiss until I forgot about the cold, forgot about everything except the taste of him and the way his hand felt as it roamed over my side.
His mouth moved to my throat, and I gasped at the sensation of his lips against my skin. “Becken.”
“You’re too sweet,” he whispered. “Utterly amazing.”
His hands found the zipper of my coat, and I didn’t protest as he worked it down, his mouth following the path of newly exposed skin. The cold air hit me, but his touch burned hot enough to keep me warm.
“We should…” When his lips found that sensitive spot at the crest of my breast, all rational thought disappeared.
“Should what?” The low rumble of his voice sent flames roaring through me.
“I don’t remember.”
His laugh came out deep and growly. “Good.”
We were lost in each other, hands exploring beneath layers of winter clothing, mouths hungry and desperate, when voices carried across the forest.
“Becken? Carla? Where are you?”
We sprang apart, both of us breathing hard. Becken’s hair was messed up from my fingers, and I could only imagine what I looked like.
“That’s Ostor,” Becken said, his voice strained.
“And Ruugar.” I scrambled to zip up my coat.
“Over here,” Becken called, though he made no move to get up. “We cut down a tree.”
Sitting up, I tried to brush snow out of my hair and off my clothes, but the evidence of our activity was probably written all over my face. The heightened awareness between us crackled like electricity, making it hard to think about anything except how much I wanted to continue what we’d started.
“Found you.” Ostor’s voice came closer. “Ruugar brought the sled. We can drag it back to…”
Both orcs emerged from the tree line and stopped short, taking in Becken and I sitting in the snow beside each other, looking thoroughly disheveled.
“Want us to return in a bit?” Ruugar asked with barely concealed amusement.
Becken stood and offered me his hand, pulling me to my feet. The contact sent fresh awareness shooting through me, and from the way his grip tightened, he felt it too.
“I think this tree will work well,” Becken said, his voice carefully neutral. “Ready for transport.”
“I can see that.” Ostor was looking at us rather than the fallen pine.
The easy camaraderie we’d built over the days had shifted into something much more dangerous.
On the ride back to town, pressed against Becken’s chest with his arms around me, I finally let myself acknowledge what I’d been fighting for days.
I was falling in love with him.
Not just attracted, not just drawn to his competence and hidden kindness. I was completely, utterly, terrifyingly in love with this grumpy orc who made me laugh and kept me warm and saw past my professional mask to the woman beneath.
