His voice is close, only inches away, and gentle. When we first met, every time he called me sweetheart, he did it with a smirk, as though it was a joke. But now, when he says it, it’s gentle and endearing and sweet.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I do a quick body scan and stretch in the sleeping bag. I’m not injured, but the temperature has dropped, and even warm and dry I’m shivering. But if I’m in his sleeping bag, what’s keeping him warm?
“I’m fine, but you must be cold.”
There’s movement next to me, and his form looms out of the darkness. “I don’t feel the cold.”
But as he says it, I hear a shudder in his voice.
“Have your sleeping bag back.” I unzip it from the top, and his hand closes over mine.
“I’m not taking your sleeping bag.”
His fingers are freezing, and it’s my turn to take them in my hands and rub them between my toasty palms.
“It’syoursleeping bag. And you’re no good to me if you freeze to death. Come here and get warm.”
I unzip the sleeping bag almost to the end so it’s big enough to fit over both of us, while keeping our feet enclosed. The cool air hits my body, making me shudder.
Jace slides onto the bedroll, and I roll onto my side to accommodate him. Luckily, he’s not one of the big Navy SEAL guys. He’s medium height and stocky, and as his body presses against mine, I feel his hard chest. Jace is all muscle, and I try not to slide my hands over him as I wrap the sleeping bag around us both.
“You’re freezing.”
His body is cold, and the only way to warm him up is by rubbing heat into his arms and back. But every time I touch him, it’s more than body heat that transfers between us. The spark that’s been firing between us all week is undeniable.
“It’s forty-three degrees in here. We need to keep each other warm.”
Jace slides his arms around me, and our bodies are forced even closer. My eyes have adjusted to the dark, and his face is inches from mine. He smiles, his teeth shiny in the darkness.
“Hello, beautiful.”
“Hello.”
His face is in shadow, but I can see the fire burning in his eyes. His body is pressed against mine, and I feel something stir and harden.
My mind goes to him peeling off my t-shirt and unhooking my bra, his gentle care and the intense look of desire he tried to hide.
Then, I was freezing, and I appreciated his restraint. Now, I’m still cold, but there’s an ache between my legs and a longing to feel his lips on mine.
I peer up at him in the darkness, and his gaze drops to my lips. He wants to kiss me, I’m sure of it, but he’s treating me like I’m precious, like he might break me. I’m stronger than he thinks. But he cared for me when I was cold, so I’m going to show the same restraint now.
I pull the sleeping bag up around his back as far as it will go. “Why did you pack your own sleeping bag and bedroll?”
“Force of habit. And so that if the retreat was unbearable, I could make a quick exit.”
I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. “You were going to hike home?”
“If someone started strumming “Kumbaya,” on a guitar, I was out.”
I snort laugh. He’s joking, I hope. “Meditation is not what you think it is.”
“Enlighten me.”
My hands rub warming circles across his back, and he makes matching movements on me. Slowly, the movement and the closeness bring warmth back to my body.
“It’s learning to live in the moment. It’s not about stopping negative thoughts and feelings; it’s about noticing them and not letting them control your life.”
