His hands found the zipper of her dress—the same dress she'd worn last night, now wrinkled beyond repair—and tugged it down with a growl of satisfaction. The fabric pooled at her feet, leaving her in nothing but a flannel shirt and thick socks.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
"It's freezing."
"I'll warm you up."
He did.
God, he did.
His hands mapped her curves like he was memorizing terrain, thumbs tracing the dip of her waist, palms spreading across her ribs. He lifted her effortlessly and set her on the tiny counter that served as both kitchen workspace and eating area. The edge dug into her thighs. The cabinet handle pressed against her shoulder blade. She didn't care.
"Too cramped," he muttered against her neck. "This camper is?—"
"Perfect." She wrapped her legs around his waist. "Stop complaining."
"I'm not—" She bit down on the junction of his shoulder and neck, and whatever objection he'd been forming dissolved into a groan. "Edie."
"Bed. Now."
The bed in question was approximately six feet long and barely wide enough for one person, let alone an orc who had to duck to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling. But Tarmek managed. He always managed.
He carried her the single step to the bed and lowered her onto the thin mattress, then stood there for a moment looking at her. His head brushed the roof and his shoulders practically spanned the entire width of the camper but he didn’t seem to notice, all of his attention on her.
"Come here," she whispered.
He did.
The bed creaked ominously as he climbed on top of her. His elbow hit the wall. His knee knocked against the storage cabinet at the foot of the mattress. When he tried to brace himself, his head connected with the overhead shelf, sending a cascade of paperback romance novels tumbling onto the pillow.
"Ow."
She started laughing. She couldn't help it. The most feared enforcer in the league, capable of leveling opponents with a single hit, was being defeated by her tiny camper.
"It's not funny," he grumbled, rubbing his head.
"It's hilarious."
"You're laughing at me."
"I'm laughing at the situation." She pulled him down for another kiss, still giggling against his lips. "You're ridiculous."
"I'm ridiculous? Your bed is the size of a postage stamp."
"It's cozy."
"It's a hazard."
But he was smiling now too, that rare genuine smile that transformed his entire face. The one she'd fallen in love with before she even realized it was happening.
Love.
The word didn't scare her anymore.
"We could move to the condo," he offered. "With a proper bed, and no concussion risk."
She shook her head. "No. Here. I want it to be here."
