Chapter 5
COOPER
Unfortunately, nothing improved.
Twenty minutes later, the wind picked up, violently blowing snow across the lawn and the surface of the lake. The temperature dropped to single digits outside, and the local weather experts indicated that the storm had just begun.
And Silas was still shivering, covered in a heavy blanket by a raging fire.
“Listen, we need to stabilize your body temperature and warm your core.”
“How?” Silas slouched against the sectional, his eyes drooping. Poor guy looked exhausted.
I bit the inside of my cheek and sighed. “Body heat. It might sound unorthodox, but they say it works. We have to try it.”
“Uh…’kay.”
That was it?
All righty, then. I yanked my sweater off, stripped to my boxer briefs, and lay on the mattress in a flurry of movement while a dumbfounded Silas squinted incredulously.
“C’mon,” I urged, patting the empty space beside me.
“Oh. You want to c-cuddle.”
“No, I don’t want to cuddle,” I grumbled. “But we have to do something. C’mere. Lay next to me. We can put a towel between us for the sake of…”
“Avoiding a sword fight?” he offered.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah…that. Take your shirt off.”
He needed a little help dragging the snug long-john top over his beefy pecs. “What about the bottoms?”
“Those too. The more skin, the better.”
Silas took care of the bottoms on his own and rolled onto his back next to me. Completely naked. “Now what?”
“Lie on your side. No…other side.”
“Can’t.”
Oh, boy. I draped a towel between our hips like a terrycloth curtain and did my best to ignore how very freaking surreal this was as I scooted close enough to press our chests together.
“Try to relax.” I might as well have been talking to myself.
This was…insane. I was a big man, and years of outdoor work had honed my body into decent shape, but Silas was bigger.
He was more muscular, harder, and thicker.
I doubted he had any fat on his bones. And it was impossible not to notice that he was anyone’s definition of good-looking—square jaw, chiseled with light scruff, high cheekbones, long lashes, brilliant blue eyes, and plush lips.
But he wasn’t perfect. His features were marred with small scars—a moon-shaped one under his left brow and a nasty jagged one that ran along the side of his face by his ear. Trophies from old battles.
“What should I do with my arms?” Silas grunted.
“Whatever you want. Pretend I’m like a body pillow. This isn’t about intimacy…obviously, it’s about getting warm.”
He stiffened slightly. “I don’t know if I—”
“Hey, trust me. I’m not any happier about this than you are, but I’ve officially run out of ideas.”
“What about a hot shower?”
“What happens when you step out of a hot shower and the air is cold and all the heat evaporates and you’re at square one again?” I countered. “Or what if you lose consciousness and slip or—”
“I’m not going to lose conscious-sssness.” Silas gritted his teeth in apparent frustration.
“I get that this is uncomfortable, but this is science. You need heat, and I’m a good source.
” I hoped he wouldn’t make any homophobic asshole comments and make me regret any of this, but for insurance purposes, I added, “We can agree this house is a cone of silence if you’d like.
Whatever happens here, stays here. Got it? ”
“Uh…okay. If you’re a pillow, I’m going to move my foot…here.” He hiked his foot over my ankle. “Is this cool?”
“Sure.”
I rested my arm at my side, and quickly realizing it wouldn’t help him, I set a tentative hand on his hip.
“If I get a woody, it’s not y-you,” he stuttered.
“Don’t talk. Just…close your eyes and try to sleep.”
“Yeah, fucking right. We’re spooning. How am I supposed to sl-sleep?”
“If we were spooning, your ass would be pointing the other way, genius.”
He chuckled. “Or yours would.”
My mouth twisted involuntarily. “Shh. Have you ever done any breath work?”
“Wh-what?”
“It’ll help. Inhale for four counts, hold for seven, and exhale for eight. I’ll count with you. One-two-three-four. Now hold—”
Silas busted up laughing. “S-sorry. I’ll try again. Fix your voice, though. You sound like Dracula.”
I pursed my lips in mock annoyance, mimicking The Count from Sesame Street on my next effort. Imitating comical voices was one of my evil powers, much to my kids’ delight or sometimes chagrin. “No good?”
“Actually, it’s great. K-keep going.” He snickered.
It didn’t go any better on the third or fourth take.
Silas’s laughter was infectious, and finding humor in odd circumstances made the weirdness tolerable.
After a few minutes, his breathing steadied and his teeth stopped chattering.
His eyes were closed, but I wasn’t positive he was asleep.
I didn’t want to disturb him, so I stayed as still as possible, watching the glow from the fire play across his face.
I felt like a voyeur, and if I hadn’t been so steadfast in my resolve to mentally create a safe distance, I’d have been worried about being caught perving.
Not that I’d act on even a trace of attraction. The one nice thing about hobbling into my forties was that I had iron-clad control over my libido.
Oops.
I’d spoken too soon.
In my defense, I hadn’t been this close to a man—lying pressed against each other—in a long while.
Random hookups didn’t count. Not that there’d been many of those recently.
Small-town living wasn’t conducive to fucking around.
Everyone found out what you were up to at some point… no matter how cautious you were.
A few of Silas’s lingering glances made me wonder if he might be bisexual too, but I wouldn’t ask and I’d probably never know. I just wanted him to get better and ideally, get the hell out ASAP.
With that in mind, I lifted a corner of the blanket and oh-so-slowly inched away.
I waited till I was positive he was out to gather my clothing and get up.
The room was dark, but the crackle of wood in the fireplace and Silas’s snoring were a welcome contrast to the wicked wind howling and the scrape of a tree branch on the window.
At this rate, the power would go out and the generator would take over any minute now.
I dumped my clothes into a hamper in the laundry room, grabbed Silas’s things from the dryer and left them on the sofa before tiptoeing upstairs.
I took a quick shower and redressed in a pair of sweats, a black Henley, and my comfiest slippers.
Downstairs again, I grabbed my laptop and my reading glasses, then settled at the kitchen island to do a little work.
I sent out a company-wide email regarding the weather.
Those who could work from home would do so, but everyone else would likely get a snow day tomorrow too.
I checked the status on a large delivery we were expected to ship out next week, touched base with our main distributor, and sent an early good-night text to Ivy and Chase.
I was pleased the message went through and that I still had an Internet connection.
That wouldn’t last. Neither kid responded, which made me think Sarah’s had gone out already.
Dangerous territory. I could feel familiar frustration gnaw at my insides.
I was an expert at worrying about shit I couldn’t control.
Were they warm enough? Had Sarah prepared properly and made sure they had food and supplies and—
“No! Don’t…don’t. Okay…okay…no, stop!”
I abandoned my phone and darted to the living area where Silas was rolling on the mattress, in the throes of a nightmare.
I set a hand on his biceps. “Hey, it’s just a dream.”
Silas gasped for air and sat up so fast he knocked me on my ass. “Where am I?”
“Christ.” I fixed my glasses as I scrambled to my knees, crouching next to the blow-up bed with my back to the fire. “You okay?”
“I’m—” Silas blinked rapidly, raking his hand through his sleep-mussed hair. “Yeah. Shit, I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, relax. It’s all good.” I narrowed my eyes as if that might help assess the situation better. “How do you feel?”
He lowered the comforter and brought his hands to his face, flexing each digit. “Better. Much better. I can move my fingers and toes too. I just…I can’t believe I fell asleep. What time is it?”
I swallowed hard as my gaze wandered from Silas’s broad shoulders to his puckered nipples and the sexy trail of hair pointing south. I grabbed the boxer briefs from the stack of his newly dried clothes and tossed them to him.
He mumbled his thanks and wiggled into them.
If I’d looked away, I’d never have noticed his erection.
And I might not have noticed the head of his cock peeking out from the elastic band of his black boxer briefs.
It was pink and if I wasn’t completely mistaken, I was pretty sure that was a bead of precum at the tip.
Fuck. Me.
I turned quickly and added wood to the fire, stoking the embers as I adjusted my twitching dick in my sweats.
“It’s, uh…almost four o’clock,” I replied.
“No way! How long have I been asleep?”
“A couple of hours…give or take.”
Silas widened his eyes. “That’s nuts. Wow. Note to self: Don’t go for a walk in a snowstorm. Ever again. I can’t believe I did this to you. I feel terrible, man.”
I scoffed. “Don’t do that. I’m just glad you’re feeling better. Hungry?”
“Uh…maybe. I’m a little dopey.” Silas’s laughter sounded like release. “We ate the soup, right?”
“We did.”
“And you made grilled cheese.”
“Yep. Something light might be best for now. I can whip up an omelet if you’re interested. I have ham and bell peppers.”
“I can help.” Silas scooted forward and scanned the mess of blankets. “Any idea where my shirt is?”
I lifted the comforter. “Here it is.”
He got on his knees, his momentum pulling him toward me. And now I was glued to his side on a wobbly mattress.
“My bad.” Silas flashed a glib half smile. Kind of charming, kind of dickish.