Chapter 22 #2
She pointed at her wet gear on the floor. “God, please burn those!” Her adorable little nose wrinkled. “They smell like bear.”
I chuckled and snatched them up, drips of river water leaving a trail behind me into the kitchen. “The smell will air out,” I said, putting everything in the sink to wash later.
Betty dug around for socks in a basket, tossing me a roll before plopping onto the bed to put hers on.
My toes were practically numb, but I laid the socks on the counter and dealt with the fire first. Fire was the priority.
Betty crawled into bed, making all sorts of silly moaning and humming noises as she wiggled under the quilts to get warm.
None of it did anything to help the fact that everything she was doing right now turned me on.
The adrenaline coursing through my body begged for an outlet, and apparently sex was what it wanted.
Mr. Beans, unaccustomed to the cold, emerged from under the bed with a pained yowl.
He meowed incessantly until Betty let him jump up and share her covers.
Meanwhile, Villainy was curled in one of the cabin’s chairs, having taken advantage of the warming sunlight on the furniture, barely moving an inch at our arrival and disruption.
As I loaded logs into the stove and got the flame going, Villy eventually stood for a stretch, languorously approaching me and rubbing against my leg.
He was getting big, almost as big as Mr. Beans—having hit a massive growth spurt in the last few weeks.
I was thinking he might be a Maine Coon with those long tufts of hair on his ears.
I liked that about him; he was my wild mountain cat.
I closed the stove door, grabbed my socks, and moved to my cot to put them on. Betty was watching me, her covers pulled up to her shoulders and her hair wrapped. She looked like a nesting doll, and for a moment, she seemed lost in thought before her gaze flicked to mine and cleared again.
“Come join me. We can keep each other warm,” she said at last.
I sat on the edge of the cot, hands planted firmly on either side of my legs. This felt like a trap.
“Come on, Gray. It’s not a big deal. It’s about survival,” she coaxed.
I swallowed, trying to calm my nerves. Why was I so nervous? This is what I wanted.
I stood and put on a confident front, sauntering over to the other side of the bed and slipping in behind her.
I reached out for her warmth on instinct, folding her into my upper body. Slipping an arm over her and resting it on the top of the blanket, my hand found the lump that was Mr. Beans beneath. I squeezed gently, reassuring him that I wasn’t here to take his place.
I tried to keep things in the friend zone, my lower half away from hers, especially given the ever-hardening length that was now throbbing in my sweatpants.
The slightest touch might cause me to combust. I’d been far too reserved lately, unable to take care of my more primal needs when she was around every corner.
She, on the other hand, was much less reserved than I, immediately pressing her rear against my groin.
I grunted and hissed out a breath.
The globe of her ass fit so well, I had to bite back my need to move against her. With all the thick fabric, I just hope she doesn’t notice my arousal, but even if she does, do I care?
I was a man, and she was a beautiful woman, and we had history. Things like this were bound to happen, even in the friend zone. Squeezing my eyes shut, I thought of anything and everything else to distract myself from our position.
She couldn’t stop fidgeting, her butt and hips rocking to keep warm.
“Betty, you need to stop fidgeting,” I huffed out, my voice gruff and strained.
She giggled. “Deal with it,” she teased in a playful voice.
I gripped her hip in warning, fingers stilling her rhythm. “I’m not sure that’s a front-row seat you’re ready to take right now, Buttercup.”
She giggled, but stopped moving.
We shared the same pillow, and I released my hand on her hip in order to reach up and uncoil the wet towel from her head, tossing it to the floor. I ran my fingers along her scalp, working the tangles from the strands before twisting them into a ball at the base of her neck.
She moaned. “Do I still smell like Tallulah?” she asked.
I leaned in, breathing deep into the crook of her neck, my cold nose tracing her ear. “No,” I murmured. She smelled of fresh river water and earth, not of bear.
“Thank the forest fairies for that,” she whispered.
My palm covered her cold, exposed ear, warming it with my breath. She shivered, unsure if it was from the chill or my touch. I rested my face against her neck, closing my still stinging eyes.
The room warmed gradually, and so did our bodies, starting from our shared core and spreading outwards rapidly.
By the time it was comfortable again, we were both asleep, tangled together with a cat sandwiching us in on either side.
While our stomachs grumbled with hunger, sleep still won the battle.
In the morning, I was packing up that cot for good. I’d never sleep on it again, not if this was the alternative available to me.