12. Shelter in Place
Shelter in Place
Colt
The danger-fueled adrenaline pushed me beyond my limits.
I kicked open the cabin door on the second try.
The small log structure had a single stone fireplace, and I noticed plenty of firewood under a tarp on the covered front porch.
This was probably a seasonal cabin, occupied by people during the summer when the weather was nicer.
Maybe hunters during hunting season. No-one was around now, and that was all that mattered.
I laid Ivy on the couch and went back out for wood. I pulled a small dining table fashioned from thick logs in front of the door to keep it closed. Once we were rescued, I’d come back here with Knox to replace the doorknob and lock and leave a letter of apology.
With kindling, newspaper, and a few logs, I got a fire going. I fed it until the heat was pushing back the damp, cold air.
Then I went back to her. Soaking wet, hair plastered to her face, skin cold to the touch when I pressed my hand to her cheek. The cut on her temple had stopped bleeding, but should be cleaned and bandaged. Her body temperature was the immediate problem now, and it didn’t care about head injuries.
I stripped her wet clothes off efficiently.
Boots, socks, jeans. Her flannel shirt peeled away from her skin.
Her black bra, soaked through, cotton padding holding water like a sponge.
At last her wet panties, and holy hell, I tore my eyes away.
There was no time to worship her body the way I wanted to.
I wrapped her in the blanket there, draped her clothes over the mantel to dry, and went in search of a first-aid kit and more blankets.
I found several supplies in the bathroom cabinet. Three more wool blankets, a down comforter, and a quilt and pillows in the bedroom. And sweats and flannel shirts in the drawers.
When I returned to the couch, her body was shaking. Working quickly, I laid everything out on top of her, and then tended to her forehead. I cleaned the wound and bandaged it, best I could.
The fire was going well now, and heat began to fill the small space.
The bedroom was too far, though, on the opposite side of the kitchen.
I shifted the couch out of the way, and tugged the mattress from the bed, setting it on the floor in front of the fire, and then Ivy on top of it.
Even with all the blankets on her freezing body, it wasn’t enough.
She stirred, half-awake. “C-c-cold,” her teeth chattered, eyes closed.
There was only one thing left to do to help bring her body temperature back up, and my wet clothes didn’t help the situation at all.
I stripped down, used a pillowcase to dry off, and climbed under the pile beside her. The shock of her cold skin against mine made me hiss through my teeth. I held her against me and rubbed warmth into her back and arms, gathered her wet hair off her shoulder, and settled my chin on it.
Outside, the storm raged. Inside, the fire crackled and popped, and I lay on a strange mattress with a woman semi-conscious in my arms. This wasn’t exactly how I’d fantasized about a night with Ivy before now.
“Stay with me. I’ll keep you warm all night,” I promised, like a mantra over and over.
It seemed forever, but finally her shivering slowed. Her skin warmed. Her breathing steadied, deeper, more natural. I drifted off, too. For a time, we both slept.
I felt the exact moment she returned—her body going rigid against mine, every muscle locking as she registered the dark and the warmth and the body pressed against hers. She turned to face me.
“Easy,” my voice croaked. “You hit your head when the truck crashed into the river. I got us to a cabin. We’re safe now.”
She was still for a long moment, her hand flat on my chest. Processing.
“The truck,” she murmured. “Something hit us.”
“Yeah. A big SUV ran us off the road.”
“I remember now. But who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Seth?”
I had my suspicions it was Seth’s SUV. Had he found out somehow that we had been in his room, and waited for us outside the ranch to run us off the road?
Or could he have found out already how we pulled the transfer of the Hollis Ranch out from under the Congressman’s grasp?
Either way, I didn’t want to trouble Ivy with my theories yet.
“I’m trying not to think right now,” I admitted.
“Why not?”
“Because if I think too hard about the current situation we’re in, something else might get hard.”
She pulled back, and in the dim firelight her big, round eyes found mine. She clocked my bare shoulders. Looked down at herself under the quilts. Looked back at me.
“We’re naked.” Very observant, in her state.
“You were hypothermic. Body heat. Basic survival medicine.”
“Did you get a good look at me?”
“Of course. But I was a complete professional. I absolutely did not notice how you wore a matching set of black lace bra and panties.”
She snorted, hand still on my chest, and shifted slightly against me. The movement sent heat through me that had nothing to do with the quilts or fire. The humor was still in her eyes, but something else had joined it—something that made the cabin too small for what was between us now.
“Did you carry me here?” She asked.
“Over my shoulder, about fifty yards in pouring rain.”
“Must have killed your back.”
“You weigh nothing.”
“You’re somehow always there for me.” That pulled a genuine smile out of her—small, surprised, the version without any performance attached to it. “Colt, my hero.”
My first name. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d used it. It had always been Calhoun. She’d always been Wylde. A wall we built that we both pretended not to notice. “Yeah. You couldn’t have picked a better fake boyfriend.”
“This doesn’t feel like we’re pretending here.” The words hung in the darkness between us.
“Ivy.” Her first name almost felt foreign to me, but I liked the way it slipped off my tongue. “You hit your head. You’re hurt. Probably a concussion. You need to rest.”
“I know where I am, and who I’m with. And resting is the last thing I want right now.” Her fingers traced the ridges of my abs, as if memorizing a landscape, my muscles flinching at her touch. The intimacy of this moment multiplied ten times over what had happened in that closet.
“What exactly do you want?”
“You, Colt,” she whispered, the mole above her lip close enough to kiss. “I want you.”
Where our time in the closet had been about adrenaline and survival, this was different. She was choosing me, and I let her.
She slid her hand up to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair, and pulled my forehead down to rest against hers.
We breathed the same air. The quilts were heavy and warm over us, and the fire crackled.
Outside, the storm was tearing the world apart.
But inside this bed became our entire world and all that mattered.
She kissed me. Then kissed again, and again, parting her lips, tangling her tongue with mine.
Not the panicked collision at the Sapphire, not performance for a crowd.
A kiss as if she’d been yearning for weeks.
So had I. My tongue swept through her mouth, swallowing her moan.
I moved on instinct, shifting her under me, hovering on my elbows on either side of her face.
My hips moved on instinct, letting her feel the effect she had on me.
It took everything I had to pull away from her lips enough to see her face. “Are you sure about this?”
“Never been more sure of anything.” A beat. “Stop asking questions.”
I kissed her again, deeper, my hand sliding into her hair, tilting her head back to kiss down her neck at the angle I’d been thinking about for months.
My palm caressed the slope of her breast, fitting over it like I’d been made to hold her. When my thumb dragged across her nipple, her back arched and her hips rolled against mine. The last thread of my restraint left the cabin.
“Colt.” She moaned my first name again, not Calhoun, not the teasing deflection she used to keep me at arm’s length—just Colt, like permission, finally letting go of anything holding her back. “Take me. I want you. All of you.”
“Every inch?” I sucked in her nipple, teasing it to a perfect peak.
“I don’t expect you to do anything half-assed.” She chuckled against my ear. My heart pounded in my chest, echoing in my ears. I kissed back up to her throat, the hollow at its base where her pulse hammered, the line of her collarbone.
When I moved lower, her legs spread for me. My mouth found her clit in the dark, wet and hard for me. Her fingers tugged my hair, and I learned every tremble and catch of breath like a new language to perfect. But I left her on edge, her breathing coming in pants.
“Need to feel you come on my cock,” I growled.
“Get up here,” she breathed, commanding, writhing, urgency in her plea.
I reached for my jeans in the wet pile of clothes. Found the wallet and the condom. My hands shook trying to put it on because this wasn’t just any woman. This was Ivy, imploring me with sultry eyes that saw more of me than anyone ever had, and I wanted to be worthy of what she was offering.
“Let me see you,” she said. I knelt upright, my skin orange-gold in the firelight. I gave up on the condom, holding it in one hand, stroking my cock from base to tip with the other, carefully, as a bead of moisture collected at the tip, ready to break down any remaining walls between us.
“I’m on the pill. And I haven’t been with anyone since… I don’t even want to say his name.”
“Good. Because I don’t want you to think about any other man.”
“Yes, Colt. Oh, yes.” The way she said it settled in my chest and stayed.
I braced on my forearms; the firelight painted her in amber and shadows. Her blonde hair had dried at last and lay in wild curls across the pillow. Eyes wide and dark, she licked her swollen lips.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” I pressed into her opening, slowly stretching her walls with every inch. We both exhaled at once. I buried my face in her neck and held there. The reality of nothing between us hit me harder than I expected.
“Are you okay?” she whispered.
“No.” My voice was gone. “You feel too damn good. Give me a second.”
She chuckled against my neck, humor in the middle of heat, and it was so perfectly Ivy, I had to move.
My thrusts began, long and thick, her breath catching with each one. She wrapped her legs around me, and the angle changed. We found a rhythm together, as if her body had known mine all along.
The pace built. She raked her nails down my back, and the sting of it traveled straight to my core. I drove into her harder, meeting her demands; her hips kept up with my pace. The sound of my name from her mouth over and over was the best thing I’d ever heard in my life.
I lifted, new position, my arms hooking the back of her knees. She reached down and strummed her clit, putting on a fire-lit show for my eyes only.
“That’s it. Feel good?” I asked, pulsing at the hilt, her breasts shaking each time.
“So good. I’m close,” she begged.
“Come with me. Wanna hold you in my arms as you do.”
I quickly lay beside her, spooning her , her back to my chest. I placed her thigh over mine and entered her tight heat again.
Her fingers found her clit again, moaning for more.
Lifted on one elbow, I kept vigil, waiting for the moment she’d come so that I could finally let go everything I’d been holding back.
I tweaked her nipple, cupping her breast, pulling it toward my mouth, sucking and licking, until at last, she shattered on me.
Her walls vibrated and held my cock hostage—and her cries of my name, free and unguarded, pulled me over the edge with her.
My vision almost went white and my arms gave out.
With a groan, I buried my face in her neck and chanted her name, Ivy, Ivy, Ivy…
like it was the only word left in the English language.
The fire was down to embers. The storm had quieted to a steady, gentle rain. We lay a mess of tangled limbs under the quilt, her head on my chest, my fingers in her hair.
“Should we talk about what just happened between us?” she asked.
“Not tonight.”
“The rules we set for this—”
“Can wait. In fact, I hope we can repeat what just happened in the morning when we wake up.”
She chuckled and lifted her head. I popped one eye open and noticed her expression unguarded in a way I’d never seen. No performance or strategy. No armor. Just Ivy.
Her fingers traced circles mindlessly on my chest. “You came to Montana for Caleb. Now that you’ve seen that through, will you stay much longer?”
That settled into the quiet. I stroked her blonde hair loose against my skin.
The plan to go home for Christmas still loomed ahead.
But now… The Buchanan family buying the Hollis place and text messages declaring they’d keep some acres for themselves to build vacation homes gave me something I hadn’t had before.
A thread linking between Holly Creek and Montana.
A reason, maybe, to stop thinking leaving was the only option.
What about her? She still had her ex to deal with. And her busy schedule. And her claims that she didn’t want a relationship right now. Did that leave any room for me?
I pushed the hair back off her face and cupped her cheek. “Hey, it’s late. We don’t have to figure everything out tonight. Let’s get some sleep. You’re going to need your rest for what I plan to do with you in the morning.”
“But shouldn’t we try to get rescued in the morning, Calhoun?”
I growled; back to using my last name? “Want to leave me already, Wylde? Wasn’t I good enough for you tonight?”
She giggled. “You were a very good boy for me tonight.”
“No complaints?”
“None at all.” She laid her head back down on my chest.
I wrapped my arms around her and pulled the quilt higher. Sleep soon found her, but not me. I lay there staring at the ember glow painting the ceiling, and I let myself feel the thing I’d been running from since the first time she kissed me at the bar.
Nothing with her ever felt temporary.
I was hers; she was mine, even if we weren’t there yet. We could be, eventually. Because Holly Creek may not be my final destination. The only place in the world I wanted to be was right here, with this woman asleep on my chest, like I was the safest place she’d ever found.
My father had been a safe place for an entire town. Maybe his son could manage one woman.
I pressed my lips to the top of her head and closed my eyes, and let the rain carry us to sleep.