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The next thing I knew, I felt hands touching me.
Waking up in a panic, I shoved against them, a scream rising in my throat.
“Shh, duchess,” Gunner’s voice said, soft, almost sleepy-sounding.
“What are you doing?” I whisper-yelled at him as his arms kept trying to slide under me.
“The fire died out. Your chattering teeth woke me up.”
As the panic rushed away, so did the adrenaline, leaving me to feel the full force of the coldness in the room that must have been without a heating source for hours.
“Relax,” he said again in that sleepy, sweet voice as he curled me onto my side, then lowered down. “I’m just going to warm you up,” he explained, yanking up the blanket, the cold air prickling over my skin for a moment before his body moved under, and the blankets fell again, trapping both our body heat together.
One small couch.
Two not-exactly-petite people.
There wasn’t even a sliver of space between us as we faced each other on the cushions.
It didn’t occur to me that my nipples were hardened until I felt his solid chest brush over them.
And judging by the way his body stiffened, I knew he felt it the same as I did.
“How did it get so cold so fast?” I asked, trying to hold still even if every inch of me was begging to move closer to the man who seemed to be radiating heat somehow.
“The wind,” he said, shaking his head. “This place isn’t insulated that well. The wind is still crazy out there. I’ll stay up,” he added. “To make sure the fire doesn’t go out again.”
“No, that’s not necessary.”
“Says the woman whose entire fucking body feels like an ice cube,” he said, giving me a brow lift as though he was daring me to contradict him as his hand moved out to touch the bare skin on my arm, making a shiver course through me at the heat of the contact on admittedly cold skin.
“I’m warmer now,” I tried. “No teeth chattering.”
“Yeah, ’cause I’m here.” When I had no argument to rebut that, his eyes seemed to maybe do that soft thing they did occasionally. “You want me to stay here?”
Oddly, I did.
Me, Miss Personal Space, did want that.
Him right where he was.
For as long as possible.
But I couldn’t let him know how much I wanted it.
“If it means you can get some sleep too, then yes,” I offered, shrugging under the blankets.
“Alright,” he agreed, voice sounding off. Not cocky or frustrated or even that sweet tone he used once in a while. It was something else. Something I didn’t know him well enough to interpret, but found myself wanting to.
“Alright,” I said as well, giving him a small nod that he snorted at.
“Go to sleep, duchess,” he commanded, and this time, just this one time, his pet name didn’t bother me.
And with his warmth enveloping me like a warm hug, I did.
I slept.
And woke up, well, on top of him.
My head was pressed into the center of his chest, my hand cupping his strong shoulder, my hip cocked over his pelvis, knee wedged between both of his thighs.
Intimate.
It took a long couple of seconds for me to realize that one of his arms was around my back, holding me tight, his fingers holding onto my hip. The other was resting heavily on my thigh.
And everything, from the feel of his solid chest against me, to his personal scent, to the way his arms were holding me… it all felt good. Way, way too good.
“Once you’re out, you’re really out, huh?” he asked, seeming to know I was up.
“Did you try to wake me?” I asked, immediately self-conscious, even though I knew I had to set my alarm clock clear across the room at foghorn level for it to wake me up in the morning. I always figured I was such a deep sleeper because I slept so little; my body wanted to milk what it got for all it was worth. I had more sleep in the forty-eight hours I had been away from my life than I had likely had in half a week in it.
“Called your name a few times,” he informed me.
“Sorry. You could have just… pushed me off,” I offered, though I had yet to move, to put some healthy distance between us again.
“The fire just banked out. But you were warm enough.”
Of course I was.
I was like a clinging vine all over him.
“Thanks for letting me sleep,” I offered, feeling something I hadn’t felt in more years than I could remember – rested. I woke up tired every morning. I counteracted that with too much coffee, and a packed schedule that didn’t let me slow down enough to even feel the effects of it, but it was always there, a constant thing.
“Yep. Now how about you hop-to making my breakfast, so I can go out and do the manly shoveling thing.”
