I reached out to help her, and her icy hand clasped mine. Her grip tightened, and with all her might, she yanked me forward.
“Fuck you, asshole,” she grunted.
I lost my footing on dry land and fell toward her.“Whoa!”
She stepped aside just enough that I landed face-first in the river. Hands scrambling for purchase on the slippery rocks, I sputtered for air before reaching out and grabbing her ankle, pulling it out from under her until she fell beside me.
She came up laughing and spitting water.“God, I hate you!” she yelled playfully, splashing my face.
“At least you won’t smell like a bear anymore,” I retorted. It was quite pungent, but still hadn’t kept me away.
The cold water felt good on my burning skin and eyes, and I couldn’t help but remain. This was the tension that needed breaking all this time, a literal shock to the system. My cheeks ached from smiling through the cold, and I could audibly hear her teeth chattering through her laughs.
“How can you possibly handle this!” she shrieked, standing and stomping out of the water, her soaked boots squelching in the mud.
I was huffing hard from the shock, splashing water on my face a few more times.“You get used to it.” I gestured to the snowmobile.“Come on, let’s go get warm.”
She crawled stiffly onto the vehicle without delay. The cabin was just a short ride upriver.
Leaving everything in the shed for now, we rushed inside. I checked the outdoor thermometer when I passed; it read in the twenties. Not too bad, but colder than it had been of late.
Inside, the fire had long since died, leaving the cabin as cold as the world outside. Betty and I hurried to the dresser, playfully wrestling with our clothes as we extracted items. Our hands were so frozen that we dropped garments everywhere, unable to hold a firm grip. We laughed through the pain, which probably also helped stave off the hyperthermia.
I felt like a teenager again.
She quickly peeled off the wet clothes. When she was down to her last layer, I turned away, giving her some privacy, though she didn’t seem to mind.
“Oh my God,” she gasped.“These dry clothes feel hot compared to my skin temperature,” she forced out through chattering teeth.
“Right?” I agreed.
I peeled my pants off, surprised to find a growing physical reaction below my waistline, despite the freezing cold. It appeared he was used to this kind of torture and a fighter for‘standing up’for what he wanted.
I cupped my erection and sidestepped into the kitchen, then fully shucked off my cold pants and underwear. I pulled sweats on, realizing they made the situation more noticeable, so I tucked my erection into my waistband and hoped the elastic would hold. Over my head, I pulled on a giant sweatshirt next, and it fell low. That helped.
Her wet clothes landed with a soggy slap near the fireplace. I caught a glimpse of her hair swishing around the corner as she bent to towel it dry. When she reappeared, she was swimming in soft, cozy clothes, hair wrapped in a towel. She looked sexier than I’d ever seen her.
She pointed at her wet gear on the floor.“God, please burn those!” Her adorable little nose wrinkled.“They smell like bear.”
I chuckled and snatched them up, drips of river water leaving a trail behind me into the kitchen.“The smell will air out,” I said, putting everything in the sink to wash later.
Betty dug around for socks in a basket, tossing me a roll before plopping onto the bed to put hers on.
My toes were practically numb, but I laid the socks on the counter and dealt with the fire first. Fire was the priority.
Betty crawled into bed, making all sorts of silly moaning and humming noises as she wiggled under the quilts to get warm. None of it did anything to help the fact that everything she was doing right now turned me on.The adrenaline coursing through my body begged for an outlet, and apparently sex was what it wanted.
Mr. Beans, unaccustomed to the cold, emerged from under the bed with a pained yowl. He meowed incessantly until Betty let him jump up and share her covers. Meanwhile, Villainy was curled in one of the cabin’s chairs, having taken advantage of the warming sunlight on the furniture, barely moving an inch at our arrival and disruption.
As I loaded logs into the stove and got the flame going, Villy eventually stood for a stretch, languorously approaching me and rubbing against my leg. He was getting big, almost as big as Mr. Beans—having hit a massive growth spurt in the last few weeks. I was thinking he might be a Maine Coon with those long tufts of hair on his ears. I liked that about him; he was my wild mountain cat.
I closed the stove door, grabbed my socks, and moved to my cot to put them on. Betty was watching me, her covers pulled up to her shoulders and her hair wrapped. She looked like a nesting doll, and for a moment, she seemed lost in thought before her gaze flicked to mine and cleared again.
“Come join me. We can keep each other warm,” she said at last.
I sat on the edge of the cot, hands planted firmly on either side of my legs. This felt like a trap.
“Come on, Gray. It’s not a big deal. It’s about survival,” she coaxed.
