four
Aiden
I wake to the sound of chattering teeth.
For a moment, I'm disoriented. This isn't my cabin. Then it rushes back—the storm, the stranded city girl, the emergency arrangements.
Phoebe.
She's trembling beside me, curled into herself, fighting for warmth that the sleeping bag alone can't provide. The cabin's temperature has plummeted; I can see my breath ghosting the air even in the loft. The fire must have died down faster than I anticipated.
I check my watch: 2:17 AM. The storm still rages outside, wind shrieking around the cabin's edges like something wounded and angry.
Her shivering is getting worse. Hypothermia's a real danger, especially after her exposure during our trek to the cabin. Her body temperature had dropped too low and hasn't fully recovered.
There's only one solution, and it's going to make things complicated.
I hesitate for just a second before shifting closer to her back. Slowly, deliberately, I curve my body around hers. Spoon position. The most efficient way to share body heat.
"Shhh," I murmur when she stiffens slightly. "You're freezing. Body heat."
She relaxes marginally, either from understanding or simply too cold to protest. I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her closer until her back is flush against my chest, her ass nestled against my thighs.
My cock springs to life immediately, hardening against the soft curve of her backside. Fifteen years since high school, and my body still has the self-control of a teenager. I try to shift my hips back, but there's nowhere to go in the confines of the sleeping bag.
"Sorry," I mutter, embarrassment burning hotter than the embers downstairs.
But instead of pulling away, she presses back against me. Deliberately.
"Don't be," she whispers.
I freeze, certain I've misinterpreted. Then she moves again, a subtle roll of her hips that couldn't possibly be accidental.
"Phoebe..." I manage, my voice rough as pine bark.
She turns in my arms until we're face to face, our breath mingling in the cold air between us. Even in the dim light filtering up from the banked fire below, I can see her eyes are dark, pupils wide.
"I'm not usually this forward," she says, "but we could actually die in this storm, and you're ridiculously hot, and I haven't been touched in weeks, and—"
I cut off her rambling with my mouth, unable to hold back any longer. Her lips are soft, pliant, opening instantly beneath mine. The kiss deepens immediately, her tongue sliding against mine. She tastes like the mint tea we drank earlier and something else, something uniquely her.
My hand finds her waist, slides up to cup her breast through the thermal shirt. She moans softly against my mouth, arching into the touch.
"We shouldn't," I murmur, even as my thumb brushes across her hardened nipple.
"Probably not," she agrees, her hands already pushing up my henley, fingers splaying across my bare stomach. "But I really, really want to."
Her touch ignites something primal in me, something I've kept buried too long. I roll her onto her back, settling between her thighs. The position aligns us perfectly, my hardness pressed against her core, separated by too many layers of clothing.
"You have no idea what you're doing to me," I growl against her neck.
She laughs, breathless and wanting. "I think I have some idea." Her hand slides between us, palming my cock through my jeans. "Unless you're just really happy about the blizzard."
A laugh rumbles through my chest. This woman—so quick-witted even now.
"I want you," I tell her, pulling back to look into her eyes. "But I need to know this isn't just because we're stuck here."
Her expression softens. "Would it matter if it was?"
"Yes." The answer comes without hesitation.
She studies my face, then reaches up to trace my beard-roughened jaw. "I wanted you the moment I saw you in your store."
That's all I need to hear. I capture her mouth again, kissing her deeply while my hands tug at her clothes. We wrestle awkwardly with layers, laughing when she gets tangled in her thermal shirt, cursing when I bang my elbow trying to shimmy out of my jeans without leaving the relative warmth of the sleeping bag.
And then, finally, we're skin to skin.
"Jesus," I breathe, taking in the sight of her. Soft curves, smooth skin glowing in the faint firelight. "You're beautiful."
Color floods her cheeks, but she doesn't look away. Instead, her gaze travels down my body, lingering on the tattoo across my ribs, the scar on my shoulder, the unmistakable evidence of my want for her.
"You're not so bad yourself, mountain man," she says, running her fingers through the hair on my chest. "All this time hiding under flannel."
I lower myself to her again, the feeling of her naked beneath me almost overwhelming. She's warm now, no trace of her earlier shivers. My mouth finds her neck, tasting the salt of her skin, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips.
"Tell me what you want," I murmur against her collarbone.
"Everything," she says simply. "I want everything."
I take my time, exploring her body with hands and mouth. Learning what makes her gasp, what makes her arch, what makes her dig her nails into my shoulders. When I finally take her nipple into my mouth, she cries out, her hands tangling in my hair.
"More," she demands. "Please, Aiden."
I trail kisses down her stomach, settling between her thighs. The first taste of her nearly undoes me—hot and slick and ready. I groan against her, the vibration making her buck against my mouth.
"Oh God," she gasps, thighs trembling as I circle her clit with my tongue. "Yes, just like that."
I work her with deliberate precision, adding a finger, then two, curling them inside her until I find the spot that makes her back bow off the floor. Her hands clutch at my hair, her voice a stream of encouragement and profanity that stokes my own desire higher.
"I'm close," she pants. "So close. Don't stop."
I increase the pressure, the pace, driving her toward the edge until I feel her tighten around my fingers, her thighs clamping around my head as she comes with a cry that echoes in the small loft. I work her through it, relentless, until she's pushing at my shoulders, too sensitive to take more.
I move back up her body, kissing her deeply, letting her taste herself on my tongue. Her hands roam my back, my ass, pulling me against her. I settle between her thighs again, the head of my cock sliding against her slickness..
I push inside slowly, giving her time to adjust to the intrusion. The sensation is exquisite—tight, wet heat enveloping me inch by inch.
"Fuck," she breathes. "You feel incredible."
I press my forehead to hers, fighting for control. "Give me a second," I grind out. "Or this'll be over embarrassingly fast."
She laughs, the sound turning to a moan as the movement shifts me inside her. "I'll take that as a compliment."
When I trust myself again, I begin to move, setting a steady rhythm. She meets me thrust for thrust, her legs wrapping around my waist, changing the angle until I'm hitting deeper.
"Yes," she gasps. "Right there. Harder."
I comply, driving into her with increasing force, the sleeping bag slipping away as our bodies move together. The cold air hits our sweat-slicked skin, but neither of us notices, too lost in the building pleasure.
"You feel so good," I tell her, my voice rough with exertion and need. "So fucking perfect."
Her nails score my back, urging me on. "Don't stop," she pleads. "I'm going to come again."
I reach between us, finding her clit with my thumb, circling in time with my thrusts. Her inner walls flutter around me, tightening as she approaches her peak.
"Come for me," I urge. "Let me feel you."
She shatters with a cry, pulsing around me, pulling me deeper. The sight of her—head thrown back, lips parted, eyes closed in pleasure—pushes me over the edge. My rhythm falters as my release builds, urgent and unstoppable.
"I should pull out," I manage to say, though it's the last thing I want to do.
"No," she says, tightening her legs around me. "I want you. All of you."
That's all it takes. With a final thrust, I bury myself deep and let go, pleasure crashing through me as I empty myself inside her, filling her warm pussy with my seed.
Once I’m empty, I roll to the side, bringing her with me so we're facing each other.
The reality of what we've just done settles over me. Not the act itself—nothing wrong with two consenting adults finding pleasure together—but the complication it adds to an already complicated situation. Because I know, with absolute certainty, that what just happened meant more to me than it probably did to her.
She's watching me, a small smile playing on her lips. "What are you thinking?" she asks, tracing patterns on my chest.
"That you're trouble," I answer honestly.
She laughs softly. "The good kind or the bad kind?"
"The kind that makes a man forget himself." The kind that makes a man want impossible things. Like a city girl deciding to stay in a mountain town. Like a second chance at not being alone.
I don't say these things aloud. Instead, I pull the sleeping bag back over us, tucking her against my side. She comes willingly, draping a leg over mine, her head resting on my chest.
I don’t regret it. Even knowing she'll leave when the roads clear. Even knowing she belongs to a different world than mine. Even knowing this is probably just a storm-induced aberration, a vacation fling for her to tell her city friends about later.
For now, she's in my arms, warm and sated, her breathing slowing as sleep reclaims her. The storm still rages outside, but here, we've created our own shelter against the cold. Temporary, but no less real for it.
I tighten my hold on her slightly, allowing myself this moment of pretending it could last. Tomorrow will come with its own complications. But for tonight, she's mine.
And I'll take what I can get.