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He chuckled, reaching out his hand. “Duchess, I’ve been in worse conditions, believe me. Besides, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep knowing you were up here all alone.”
“My hero,” I teased.
He tangled his fingers with mine. The simple connection sent zings of heat and pleasure all over my body. “We’re wide awake now,” he pointed out.
“We’d probably be safer if we were closer together,” I said primly. “You know. In case of an emergency.”
Releasing my hand, he grabbed the edge of my bedding and dragged my mattress toward him. “I was a Boy Scout back in the day,” he said. Without asking for permission or making a big deal about it, he scooted me across the now-sealed divide and into his arms.
We groaned in unison. I felt as if I had been anticipating this since the first moment I saw him ride up on his motorcycle, ready to be my somewhat cranky knight in shining armor.
I’d been chilled waiting for him to return from outside. Now Finley was a human furnace, warming my body efficiently. One of my legs ended up wedged between his thighs. I felt something long and hard and ready pressed against my hip. I don’t think there was any kind of merit badge for this situation.
We were spooned together now, every bit of him embracing every bit of me. It was a most lovely feeling. I determined in an instant that surviving a spent hurricane was a small price to pay for such a reward.
“Finley,” I whispered, afraid to break the spell, “will you make love to me?”
