“Are you all right?” Theo asks.
“I think my hands are going to freeze off,” I mutter.
Behind me, he moves closer, wraps an arm around me and scoops up my hands through the sleeping bag. There’s nothing intimate in this gesture… I think. Our bodies aren’t touching. He hasn’t violated my personal space. He’s just trying to warm my frigid hands.
“Aren’t you cold?” I ask as I lean back into him in a shameless attempt to steal more of his heat.
“I’m fine.”
Outside, the storm lashes against the cabin, rattling its window and door. The entire structure creaks and whines and shifts slightly. A gust of chill air drifts in through cracks and down the chimney of the woodstove. It whistles through the room and blows past my face, crawling over my skin.
A shudder runs through me. If I’m this cold inside the sleeping bag, how can he be fine beneath my coat that barely covers the bottom half of his body?
Theo tightens his embrace. “If you lift yourself off and let me pass an arm underneath, I’ll be able to give your hands a proper two-handed rub.”
“I have a better idea,” I say. “If you get inside the sleeping bag, you’ll be able to rub my hands directly.”
He’s silent for a second and then he asks, “Are you sure?”
“Quite sure.” I begin to unzip the bag. “It’s big enough for two.”
My fingers are so stiff it’s a struggle to perform such a simple task. Theo puts his big hand over mine, grips the slider and pushes it down.
Within seconds, he’s taken off his coat and slipped inside the sleeping bag. He pulls our coats over our legs and chests before tugging the zipper back up. We’re in the same position as before but with only our sweaters between us, and then he wraps his arms around me. I nearly moan. That’s how welcome his hug is, not to mention the warmth of his large body enveloping mine.
He takes my hands in his and gives them a vigorous, no-nonsense rub.It works!My fingers start coming back to life. My back is no longer aching from the cold. Even my feet get warmer, tucked snugly between his. The profound relief from the prickle of the returning sensation fills me with unadulterated joy.
“You seem to be thawing,” he says near my ear.
“Yes, but, please, don’t stop just yet!”
“I had no intention of stopping.”
The rumble of his deep voice pleases me beyond belief. As does his warm breath against my neck. Suddenly, it’s more than his breath. Soft lips touch the skin just below my hairline and stay there.
What is he doing?I don’t know. I don’t care. I just want him to keep doing it.
He leans more into me and brushes his lips against the sensitive area at the top of my neck, trailing them down and moving back up, with a tender, deliberate slowness. His lips never leave my skin. Each successive touch flows into the next, a flicker of warm breath against my skin.
I incline my head forward to give him better access.
His touch grows more urgent. My skin burns, as if branded, at the contact. One of his hands lets go of mine to slide around my waist. He pulls me closer to his firm, broad chest. His lips become more insistent, traveling up to my hair and down to my shoulders.
Is he kissing me?
Of course, he’s kissing me! Through the physical pleasure, my mind finally grasps the truth of the situation. Theo is no longer holding me to transfer some heat from his body to mine. He’s no longer rubbing my numb hands to reanimate my fingers. We’re far beyond those selfless gestures now. The place we’re at is where he’s showering my neck with kisses, each harder than the last one, each making my body softer and more pliant.
Do I want this? Am I ready for what comes next?
My head swims. Heat rises up my throat and face.Heat is good.Heat is welcome. But… He never asked permission to switch gears, to press his lips to my neck, to put his hand on my waist, to stroke me.
Should I tell him to stop?I most definitely should. Thing is, if I do, he’ll stop. I know it. And I don’t want that to happen.
Before I can even begin to form a decision, he holds me tighter from behind, melding his body to mine. Not just his chest and feet, like before, but also his groin and thighs, all of him, head to toe. He surrounds me, leaning over me hot and heavy.
This position may have been innocuous ten minutes ago, but not anymore. Certainly not with his hard member pressed against my backside.
I should be shocked, or repulsed, but instead desire blooms deep within my belly. His hand moves up to the underside of my breasts, cupping and kneading.Too many layers!Not only do I not oppose any resistance, but I lean into his touch, praying he’d slip his hand under my sweater.
