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“Okay. I’ll grab the mattress and bring it out here. Hopefully, Eric won’t mind.”
“We’ll worry about Eric tomorrow,” she chuckles. Even in her current situation, she has not lost her sense of humor.
With her agreement, I haul the mattress off the bed and lay it on the floor. She pushes the couch out of the way to make room for both of us.
I grab some pillows and stand back while she makes us a bed.
I feel like this is one hell of a reward after the last twenty-four hours.
Chapter eleven
Mia
We huddle together under the blankets, his skin warm against mine. His body heat seeps into me. I start to become more aware of my surroundings, more aware of him. His hard body is pressed against mine, and the terror I felt earlier just drifts away. I can’t ignore the spark of attraction that flares between us.
His arm wraps around me, holding me close to his body, and my butt nestled against his crotch. I can feel the rise and fall of his chest with every breath he takes. My heart starts to beat faster.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice low and close to my ear.
“Better,” I whisper. “Thank you.”
His hand rubs gently up and down my side, sending shivers through me that have nothing to do with the cold. Our situation is absurdly intimate, given the circumstances. It’s hard not to notice every detail: how his muscles tense and relax, the warmth radiating from his skin, the steadiness of his heartbeat.
We stay like that for a while, listening to the pop and crackle of the burning logs. My initial surge of want fades, replaced by a growing awareness of him. I can feel his breath against my neck. My body responds to his closeness in ways I can’t control.
I try not to move or breathe. It becomes very, very clear that he is feeling a certain way judging by the erection now pressing against my ass. I roll on my back and look at him.
“Sorry,” he mutters.
“Don’t be.”
Our lips touch, tentatively at first, then with more urgency. His hand tangles in my hair, pulling me closer. I lose myself in the kiss. I’m alive. This man kept me alive. We both survived a near plane crash, a grizzly bear, and a fierce winter storm. It seems pretty appropriate to seize the moment.
His hands explore my skin, sending waves of heat through me. I respond eagerly, my own hands finding their way to his back—his shoulders—feeling the strength and solidity of his body.
Our kisses grow more fervent, passion igniting between us. His hands move from my hair to my waist and then lower, leaving a trail of heat wherever they touch. I gasp as his fingers find the hem of my underwear. I don’t stop him. Instead, I pull him closer, my nails digging into his back.
I can feel the hardness of him pressing against me. A thrill of anticipation runs up my spine. I’ve never felt this way before—this desperate need to connect on some primal level. We survived death today; maybe we earned this moment of life.
His lips leave mine and blaze a searing path along my throat and collarbone, leaving me panting and even more frantic for him. By the time his mouth finds its way back to mine, I’m dizzy with need.
“Please,” I murmur.
“I’ve got you.”
Those three words ignite the spark, turning it into a full-blown inferno that sweeps through the entirety of my body. His hand moves to my hip, fingers digging in as he pushes the fabric of my underwear aside. He hesitates for a moment, looking at me with a question in his eyes.
“Yes,” I whisper.
Our excited pants fill the room, hot and heavy against the cold night air. His fingers move against my skin, creating a devastating friction that sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through me. My head falls back against the pillow as I arch into him, losing myself in the sensation.
His lips are everywhere: on my neck, my collarbone, my breasts. Everywhere he touches comes alive. I grip onto him, needing something—someone—to anchor me as I toss in an ocean of sensations.
His body is hard against mine, our naked flesh pressed together under the blankets. His fingertips slide across my folds. I jerk at the sensation of being touched so intimately.
He takes his time, allowing me to adjust and relax. His fingers are skilled, knowing just when to change pressure or angle. His lips continue their sweet torture, kissing a path down my body as his fingers explore. I’m gasping, writhing, melting under his touch.
“Don’t stop,” I whimper.
