Chapter 9
Jess
What the hell was I thinking? I wasn’t. Those kisses fried my brain and consumed any rational part of me. Fuck. Those kisses. I remember the heat between us, but it was never quite like that, like he branded me with his lips.
The panic from earlier, before those amazing, soul-melting kisses, before the bath was rearing its ugly head. Sure, he said all those nice things and kissed me like he was a sailor going off to war, but that didn’t mean this would work. That didn’t mean anything. I was still the same person who walked into this cabin two days ago. Right?
Charles’ soft snore sounded beside me. We had gone to bed, but I wasn’t able to sleep. It wasn’t the loud, annoying kind that I’m sure would keep me up at night. It was soft and gentle and rolled through the room, and me, like a wave.
Charles rolled over and wrapped one of his thick arms around me. He pulled me back to him and held on tight, like he never wanted to let me go. A tear slipped down my face before I closed my eyes and sank into his warm embrace. Maybe I was becoming someone new, someone that could take risks again.
Light intruded on my dreams. They glowed with love, all sparkly and shimmery, but they floated away as I woke, too wispy to catch. I treasured that space between awake and asleep, where everything was cozy and warm and soft. I never wanted to move.
“You’re like a furnace when you sleep,” Charles said behind me. My eyes flew open and I could feel his arm slung over me, heavy and warm, exactly how it was when I finally fell asleep last night.
“Oh.” I tried to extract myself from the tangle of limbs and blankets. It’s something I did every morning and every morning I cursed whatever god made it so I was freezing when I laid down for bed, but boiled the second I fell asleep.
“Where are you going?” He sounded confused and sleepy. “That’s the warmest I’ve ever slept.”
“You say that now because it’s cold out, but if it were a hot Savannah day, you’d be running for the hills.” That came out whiny when I meant for it to be glib. Unfortunately, that was something that had happened more than once to me.
“We’ll just get cooling sheets,” he said as he pulled me back tighter against him, like if he held me here tight enough we would make it to that hot summer day.
“You say that like you’re so sure I’m going to be sharing a bed with you past this weekend.” Despite my protests, I snuggled closer.
“I’m sure.” His breath tickled my ear and the low tone of his voice shot through me like a dart, hitting all the right places as it went.
Charles started moving his hand along my stomach, gently and softly, like I was made of glass. I squirmed. Touching myself to imaginary Charles paled compared to the feeling of his hands on me, his warm body pressed against mine, and the low vibrations of his voice rolling through me.
“So soft.” His hands widened their path and grazed the underside of my breast. This was not taking it slow.
“I’m going to make some coffee,” I said, trying to regain my sanity. If I stayed right here, I’d melt. If I stayed here, his hand would move from my stomach to cup my breast, tease my nipple and make me moan. Or maybe it would slide down, slip into my panties and find the wetness I was sure was there.
Oh god.
“What — what do you like in your coffee?”
I still didn’t move, not until his hand moved lower. If I didn’t move now, he’d do it. He’d touch me.
Oh god.
I shot out of bed and landed in a heap on the floor, my legs still tangled in the sheets. Charles propped himself on his elbow and looked over the bed at me. “I like cream.” His smirk told me he meant my cream.
“Right,” I said as I untangled myself from the sheets. It was not graceful or beautiful or anything but my ass hanging out of my shorts. His eyes were alert as he watched me move about the room, and that damn smile never left his lips.
“Sugar?”
“No, just cream is fine.” He stretched his arms and tucked them behind his head, putting his bare torso on display. The sight of him did things to me, things I didn’t want to think about. Not right now.
“Do you really have to be shirtless?” I threw his shirt at him and he just caught it and set it aside before getting out of bed and heading for me. I ran out of the room and slammed the door in his face. He laughed from the other side.
When he came out of the room, the smell of coffee was permeating the small space and he had his shirt on. I only liked one of those. Not that I would tell him that.
When I had my mug of sugary caffeine, I walked over to the window. It had stopped snowing overnight, and watery sunlight fought for a place in the sky. The snow glinted and glittered like diamonds where it piled in high drifts, obscuring my car and blanketing the landscape. If we weren’t well and truly stuck here, it would have been beautiful.
Charles walked over and poured himself a cup of coffee. He had put a shirt on and a part of me mourned the loss of the view of all those muscles, but loved the way his sleeve pulled tight over his biceps. Biceps that he apparently built just for me. I wondered if I could ever believe he really wanted me.
“Instead of assuming he doesn’t want you, assume he does,” my therapist would have said. I had enough sessions with her. I could predict how they would go by now. “How does that change things?” I thought of the bath last night where I imagined just that and wanted, desperately, for it to be true.
There was a time when Charles was my best friend and trying not to talk to him was like cutting off a limb. All I did was make myself miserable. At some point, I needed to stop icing him out. We could start as friends again. Maybe.
“So, what will we do with all this time?” He asked as he poured cream into his coffee and took a sip.
“Beats me.” I wrapped myself in a blanket that was draped over the back of the couch. Careful to keep the blanket wrapped around me, I waddled around the couch, and curled up on the cushion. I might sleep hot, but I was freezing the rest of the time. The only parts of me not covered by a blanket were my hands, which clutched my mug of coffee like it was a lifeline.
Charles noticed me wrapped up and immediately went to the fire to get it started. He didn’t seem bothered by the cold, but men rarely seemed that way. His muscles moved under his shirt while he stacked the logs and I momentarily forgot my coffee. I had been so wrapped up in Charles that I had barely taken a few sips. Nothing rates above coffee. Except, apparently, Charles. Shit.
“Start many fires in the Marines?” I teased, desperate for something to break the silence between us.
The look he gave me was wolfish. “Maybe.”
I was just trying to start an innocuous conversation, but that stupid grin had me thinking all kinds of things I wouldn’t have dreamed of just two days ago.
“We’re going to need some firewood today,” Charles said, interrupting pictures of running through the woods, being caught by him, and pinned to the nearest tree.
“Wood?”
“Firewood.” He turned to me with a little smile, like he knew exactly what I was thinking. “We’re going to need to get some. There is a lean-to a little way from here with a big pile of it. And while we’re at it, we might as well chop some more and replenish what we use. One can never have too much wood.”
“Right,” I said, a bit dazed as I wondered just how much wood he had.
The cold air nipped at my cheeks and the snowbanks reached almost to my chest in some areas. I had no idea so much snow could fall in such a short time.
“How are we supposed to walk to the woodpile in all this?” I asked Charles as we stood on the porch and surveyed the scene.
“With these,” he said as he lifted what looked like misshaped tennis rackets.
“I’m not sure playing tennis is going to help us get to the wood,” I said. In truth, I figured out they were likely old snowshoes. I just couldn’t help needling him.
His laughter rolled over me.
“Let me help you get these on. Sit over there.” He pointed to a large seat carved straight into a log just to the side of the small porch. I wiped the bits of snow that had fallen on it off and sat.
Charles just looked at me with a smirk on his face as he sank to kneel at my feet. Oh no, this position wasn’t going to do at all. I moved to get up and protest that I could put on my own snowshoes when he is hands came down heavy and warm on my thighs. He put just enough pressure on them for me to stay where I was. His hands were high up, near my hips, and he just held me there, caught in his gaze.
“Don’t you dare run,” he said in a low voice that tempted the limits of my sanity. I squirmed, and he just chuckled, before slowly, so slowly, dragging his hands down my legs. That’s not the right direction! My brain shouted at me. No, no, that wasn’t right. I — I couldn’t think with him there, leaning over me, pushing my legs wide. I whimpered.
He just sat there, between my legs, his hands holding me open. Oh, god. It took everything I had just to keep my pants on. I could feel the heat of him fueling the heat gathering in me. I wasn’t going to survive this. We were just supposed to be getting firewood.
I don’t know how long he sat there with his hands on my knees, keeping my legs spread wide for him before he continued moving his hands down to my feet. He picked up one and attached a snowshoe to it. It might have been my imagination, but I think he was breathing harder than before. I guess I wasn’t the only one affected by his nearness and position.
“Let me just get mine on and we can go,” he said once my shoes were on. The shoes were heavy and awkward on my feet and I had a feeling that I wasn’t going to get very far on them before falling right on my face. Once he had his shoes on, he held his hand out to me to help me to my feet and then didn’t let go.
“We’ll take it slow,” he said. I didn’t think he was just talking about walking in the snow.
I kept a firm grip on his arm as we headed out into the snow. It was a lot like hiking, but an ache was already forming in my hips. Charles, of course, looked like he was born in snowshoes and wore them everywhere. The jerk.
Halfway to our destination, I got too bold. I let go of his arm, thinking I was good to walk on my own, took two steps, and promptly fell on my face. I rolled over in the snow and just stared at the sky above me. Charles came into view and I could see his shoulders shaking, just a little, with suppressed laughter.
“Uh, jerk,” I shot at him and grabbed a fist full of nearby snow to launch at his face. My aim was excellent, and it hit square in the nose. He stood there unmoving for a moment before wiping the snow from his face.
“Did you just throw snow at me?” He asked, outrage coloring his voice.
“Maybe.” I was still in the snow and I spread out and got comfortable, like this is exactly where I wanted to be. “What are you going to do about it?”
He launched himself at me and I rolled before he could land on me. I tried to crawl away, but getting up in snowshoes wasn’t nearly as easy as falling with them was. My laughter burst out of me as I tried again to get away from him.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he said as he grabbed my leg to stop my progress. I had only made it a few feet before his hand landed on me.
“No, please, stop.” I tried my best to sound like a damsel being caught by her dragon, but my laughter ruined it.
“Never,” he growled as he came up on top of me. I had rolled over again, and he had lined himself up so his face was only inches from mine. His body pressed firmly against me, holding me in the snow. Our mingled breaths were coming fast and hard. Indecision and desire warred with each other on Charles’ face. I knew what he wanted, and for once, I wanted it, too. Closing the small distance between us, I captured his mouth in a kiss. I could no more have stopped myself than I could have stopped the snow falling from the sky or the sun rising in the east.
So much for going slow. The doubts that plagued me this morning were only a memory as I traced his lips with my tongue, begging to be let in.
He held my hands trapped above my head and I moaned and arched into him when I couldn’t get free. God, I didn’t know how much I would like that.
“Fuck, angel,” he said as I broke free of the kiss to trail my lips down his jaw and nip at his Adam’s apple. “Much as I’m loving this, we need to get the firewood and go back inside. It’s too cold out to do what I really want.”