Chapter 5 #2
For a guy who wore suits and talked gems and gold for a living, he was remarkably skilled at basic survival.
Which was yet another reason she loved him so much.
Why hold back? The hazy light and the warm covers made her smile, her eyes on Moore as he finished with the woodstove and turned to the kitchen to get more water. What if she didn’t hold back? What if she confessed the truth?
Playing out the scenario in her head, she indulged herself.
And stopped cold at his imagined rejection.
What could be worse than nearly dying in a car accident?
Nearly dying from humiliation.
Shivers began again, this time not stopping, her neck and jaw pulling tight again.
“You need help,” Moore declared, voice low and compassionate. He set their mugs on the nightstand and unrolled some of the comforter around her, crawling in as if it were second nature. One arm around her, he stretched the other down, palm resting on her hip.
“Your skin is still so cold.”
“You’re a furnace.”
He laughed. “I’m only warm compared to you. You’re an iceberg. I’m just warmed-over slush.”
“Warmed-over slush would be water.”
“Colleen?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re ruining the moment.”
“This is a moment?”
“Sure.”
“What kind of moment?”
“The kind where you don’t nitpick me to death with details.”
“I was pointing out a fact.”
“You’re so practical.”
“That’s not an insult, you know.”
“I never said it was.”
“What’s wrong with correcting someone when they’re wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong with the phrase ‘warmed-over slush.’”
“It’s a bad metaphor.”
“Give me a better one. If I’m not warmed-over slush, what am I?”
Oh.
Body instantly ablaze, she knew the rum was doing its sweet work of relaxing her, because the answers to his simple question were all, well…
The kind that crossed lines.
“Um…”
His chuckle made his chest bounce a bit, her chin slipping into the crook of his neck. He turned so that his thigh slid against hers, her knees shaking so hard, they knocked into each other.
“You’re banging your joints together,” he observed. “That’s got to hurt.”
“Blood’s finally warming up.”
“Here.” His knee inserted between hers, the bristly curls of his leg hair sending shockwaves through her. “Does that help?”
Does that help?
If he helped her much more, she might orgasm on the spot.
“Sure,” she choked out, her body betraying her yet again. First, the damn thing nearly got her killed back in that pond. Now, it threatened to climax on her, here in Moore’s arms, as the poor guy was performing advanced first aid.
With his… thigh?
Sighing heavily, he moved slightly, his arm over her head as he retrieved his mug and sat up just enough to take a sip, her hip sliding against his torso, where yet another shock awaited her.
Moore was hard.
Hard as granite.
And not an insignificant amount of granite.
Holding back her reaction, it took every bit of restraint not to snicker, snort, hoot, chuckle, or giggle, impulses that would reveal just how unevolved she really was.
And how much she needed a distraction.
Being pressed against his arousal meant her own arousal shot up into the stratosphere, and Colleen wasn’t going to be able to hold back much longer from kissing him.
“Do you remember,” he asked after taking his sip, “that huge storm when we were in high school?” His arms came back under the covers, her shaking now settling into little twitches and tingles.
“Which one? There were so many.”
“The one where school actually shut down for three days.”
Western Mainers were hardy folk. Even a two-foot snow accumulation might yield only a two-hour bus delay. For the superintendent to cancel school was a huge deal, worthy of Armageddon.
“That was your senior year, not mine. I was at the community college then.”
“Oh, right, I forgot.” His loose chuckle was endearing, his hand stroking her arm as if they were lovers. “I sometimes forget you’re two years older. All the memories mash together.”
“Mine, too.”
“That storm was crazy. Ice underneath snow. Took forever to melt.”
“Yeah. The older nursing students were really upset because it happened during practicums and they lost hours.”
“We hung out at your house for three days straight. I slept over. Lots of video games and movies.”
Memory filled in, like the bloom of watercolor on paper. “Right! And we had that marathon game of Trivial Pursuit!”
“You do remember.”
“I remember because you guys dominated in the sports category, unless it was baseball. And I nailed entertainment.”
“Your mom crushed the history questions.”
“That’s right! Mom played.” She closed her eyes and sank into Moore’s arms, any awkwardness evaporating.
“She won. And you were so pissed.”
“She’s old, she’s lived through more history–it’s not fair! Plus, I was super competitive back then.”
“Back then,” he mugged, earning a light slap from her, playful and targeted on his chest.
“I’m not that competitive.”
“You bet on your brother’s relationship with Kylie. You bought three squares in the town betting pool.”
“You bought one, too!”
“Yeah, but you tried to sway them!”
“More than four hundred dollars was on the line–I just used every resource available to me.”
“You’re competitive as hell, Colleen. It’s one of your most endearing traits.”
“Endearing?”
“Yeah.”
“You find me endearing?”
“Yes.” The word came out slowly, like a confession, the rasp of the end turning to pure energy, like a wish released to the heavens.
“Oh.”
With no electricity to provide white noise, silence dominated. Other than their breathing, the fire’s quiet crackle was the only sound inside the cabin.
Meanwhile, her heart beat on in her chest as if nothing were at risk here. As if it weren’t walking a tightrope.
As if it weren’t exploding from happiness.
As if it weren’t quivering in terror.
“I found out Cammie was pregnant the day we went back to school,” he said, shattering the part of her that had been drawn to the side of the line where maybe, just maybe…
“Mmmm.” Words were gone.
“And just like that, everything changed. I never spent the night at your house again.”
She jolted. “Really?”
“I had to ‘be a man,’” he said, bitterness seeping in. “My mom and dad said so.”
“I remember.” Catching her breath, she willed herself to stop feeling with her hormones and start thinking with her mind. His body was here to warm her.
Nothing more.
But for whatever reason, he was also pouring his heart out to her, wandering through memories that they shared.
“I think about that snowstorm a lot. And this one reminds me of it.”
“Why?”
“Because it was the last time I was truly free.”
“Oof.”
“It’s true.”
“It is.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For validating me.”
“You don’t need me to validate you.”
“No, I don’t need you to do it. I appreciate it, though. You see it, too?”
“See that you lost your freedom because Cammie got pregnant your senior year of high school? Of course.”
“Not just that. I mean, see that I used to be free.”
The way he was speaking carried a new tone, a wistful, painful reckoning. Colleen didn’t quite understand his point, but she felt the importance of what he was grappling with, and that meant staying present with him through whatever he was going through.
“You used to be free, Moore. Yes.”
Did his arms just tighten around her? Were his fingertips stroking her skin with a new, heightened intensity? Dreamy and light, she gave into the sensation, letting herself sigh. As her body stilled, a deep warmth, true and more real than any feeling she’d ever experienced, took over.
“I want to be free again,” he murmured against her hair, his leg moving against hers, her fingers on his chest desperate to explore.
“What does that mean to you?”
“It means this.”
In all her years of dreaming about him, and many more spent pushing those dreams away, she never imagined it would happen like this–that Moore would simply hold her in his arms, move a few inches, and bridge the gap between them with a kiss. But here it was, and it felt so good.
So right.
So perfect.
Their lips met, his arms curling around her as she turned on her side gingerly, favoring her shoulder, the comforter softer, his muscles harder, the whole of him both familiar and tantalizingly new.
Their mouths were soft together, then warm and wet as the kiss deepened, his fingers in her hair now, hers on his shoulder.
Moore’s tongue asked for an invitation and she parted her lips, the line now so thoroughly crossed that there was no line any longer.
Just this kiss.
How could a kiss tell a story so long, so detailed, with so many detours and U-turns? All her wanting was in this kiss, all her time on the sidelines, all the friend-zone moments gathering to watch as Moore kissed her with growing need, their bodies pressed harder together.
They weren’t kids. She wasn’t his best friend’s older sister.
She was a fully grown woman whose life he had just saved, and she had nearly lost the chance to tell him how much he meant to her.
Now? Now she could show him.
Finally.