“There are three clasps down the front seam.”
“Three? This is tougher than ranger selection.”
She giggles again, and her body shudders. Her skin has tiny goosebumps, and I try not to notice them as I fumble with the bra. I undo the first clasp and it opens up the top of the bra, exposing more cleavage. My cock goes rock hard, and my mouth goes bone dry.
The second clasp pops open, and the sides of her breasts are exposed, and they are as luscious and full as I imagined they would be. I try not to lick my lips, but it’s hard to hide the effect this is having on me. The bra is holding on by one clasp, and when that goes, it’s going to fall open and expose her completely, and I don’t want Kayla to feel uncomfortable.
“I’m going to close my eyes when I do this last one. Let me know when I can open them.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as my fingers brush her soft skin. Pre-cum seeps out of my dick, and closing my eyes was a bad idea. Now her spicy scent teases my senses, and my fingers zing with every accidental touch.
The clasp pops open and I feel the bra fall open, and I pull my hands back and try really hard not to peek.
A moment later Kayla tells me she’s decent, and when I open my eyes, she’s standing with the offending bra, now open but held over her breasts, which does fuck all to hide them. The only thing I can’t see is the nipples.
“My fingers are too numb to get my clothes.”
Her clothes. Right. To stop her from getting hypothermia.
I compartmentalize the topless beauty standing before me and focus my mind on survival.
In Kayla’s pack, I find a clean t-shirt and a sweater. I forget about a bra; I’m not grappling with one of those again. Keeping my movements efficient, I help her put on her dry clothes.
Then we deal with the bottom half.
It’s torture sliding her leggings off, and luckily for her, by the time I get to her underwear, her fingers are working again. She manages to get dry underwear on and a new set of leggings, and while she does that, I pull my sleeping bag out of my pack.
“You bought your own sleeping bag to a retreat?” she asks.
“Force of habit.”
I lay my bedroll on the floor. It’s thin, but it’s all we’ve got, and Kayla climbs into the sleeping bag and pulls it tight around her. Her teeth are still chattering, but color has returned to her cheeks and she can use her hands again.
Now that she’s squared away, I change quickly into dry clothes. Then I hang our wet things as best I can around the room.
I check my phone, and there are two check marks indicating that somewhere on our hike, we moved through a patch of signal and my text made its way to Grant.
There’s no reply, but at least he knows we’re together and we have a plan for shelter. I send another one to let him know we made it to the hut and we’re safe, but it doesn’t go through. I’ll walk out later to try to find signal.
When I glance down at Kayla, she’s asleep. The sleeping bag is pulled up to her chin, and her hair is fanned out, drying around her.
I pull my backpack over to the wall next to her and sit down so I’m leaning against it. The carpet doesn’t stretch this far, and the wooden floor is hard and cold. If I really was an asshole, I’d throw Kayla out of my sleeping bag, or at least claim half. But when I look down at the sleeping beauty, something inside me shifts.
This isn’t a ranger mission where every man takes care of himself. This is the woman I promised to protect and keep safe through the storm. More than that, this is a woman whose scentdrives me wild and who I’m starting to learn has hidden depths under her calm surface. Depths that I want to explore.
She looks peaceful and worn out. It’s been a long day, and sleep is the best thing for her. I’m happy to relinquish my sleeping bag to her. I’m trained to sleep anywhere, and I don’t need to be comfortable to get some shut-eye. I’m going to stay right here, next to Kayla, so I’m here when she awakes, no matter how uncomfortable it is.
7
KAYLA
Iawake with a start in utter darkness. My body aches, and when I shift positions, my blankets rustle in a weird way, which is when I remember they’re not blankets. It’s a sleeping bag.
It all comes crashing back to me. The washed-out bridge, the hike in the rain, the hut, and Jace undressing me because my fingers were too numb to function. The sleeping bag is Jace’s, and if I’m in it, then where is he?
“Jace?” My voice is hoarse in the darkness, and a shadow moves next to me.
“I’m right here, sweetheart.”
