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We were hip to hip, chest against chest. Our faces were just inches apart.
God, he’s beautiful.
He really was. High cheekbones. A strong nose. I loved the thickness of his hair, the bushiness of his brow. The strong, masculine curve of his jaw…
His arms went around me, shifting me a little tighter against his body. Somehow I fit perfectly against him, like we were two halves of the same mold.
“We’re gonna make it,” I whispered abruptly. “Right?”
Every exhale was a little puff of white smoke. His breath. Mine. They mingled together as we talked, as we breathed, our lips practically brushing in the confined space.
“Yes.”
He reached out and began stroking my hair. Softly. Slowly. Pinning it back behind my ear in a way that always soothed and calmed me.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” he smiled, squeezing me reassuringly around the waist.
We shifted again and his lips touched mine. Actually touched! I could feel the moisture of his hot breath. The heat of his face, the tickle of his beard…
“Good,” I smiled back.
Then, on a whim… without even knowing how, or why…
I leaned in and kissed him.
Six
MORGAN
It was extremely hot, kissing in the dark. Making out with some total stranger, my body pressed up against his, while mortal danger raged just outside.
What the hell are you doing Morgan?
I completely ignored the stern voice in my head as our lips pressed wonderfully together. They churned insistently, rotating with a slow sensuality that grew more intense as we began nibbling, biting and kissing in earnest.
I felt his tongue, probing its way past my lips. Normally I might’ve shrunk back from the boldness of it all, but for some reason I parted my teeth and accepted him. This guy… this strange, beautiful guy. He was a fellow skier. A fellow student, all the way from home. We’d traversed the ocean and climbed mountains together, only to burrow into some dark hole in the snow and make out like crazy.
But I didn’t care. Not about my safety, or about the cold, or about the storm that raged outside. All I cared about at the moment was the hardness of his warm, gorgeous body. The feel of his chest, his arms, his legs…
All of it, pressed up against me. Out of necessity, yes. But also out of desire.
And in truth, why not? He’d saved my life! And he was beautiful too; much more handsome than any of the small handful of people I’d dated. The tiny subset of guys who I’d let kiss me like this, only not until after they’d taken me out and dated me of course.
Morgan!
The voice screamed again, and my body screamed right back. This man was my hero. My sexy savior. H
e’d pulled me from what was sure to be an icy grave. Dug with his hands until he practically had frostbite, just to shelter us from the wind and the cold.
My inhibitions lowered, and my hands roamed his body. My fingers found their way up his shirt, dancing across the rippled surface of his washboard abs. His body was amazing! The strongest and leanest I’d ever seen… much less touched like this.
I moaned into his mouth as we kissed some more. Every breath I took was his. It was like we were devouring each other, face to face. Melding together. Churning and writhing in our secure little shelter, unable to get enough.
“Oh!”
I gasped as he flipped me over. Suddenly I was on my back, the thick, comfortable down of the UMASS jacket being pressed down into the snow. My hero was on top of me now. Kissing me harder and with more urgency, on my lips… my neck…
On my shoulder…
