Left for Wild - Harloe Rae Page 0,53

don’t wedge myself into the sleeping bag.

“Do you want to share with me?” I’m bound to tackle and hogtie him if he refuses, but it’s only polite to ask.

His gaze bounces between me and the shelter. “Didn’t we already agree to that?”

I huff and thrust a hand forward at my intended target. “No, I mean in there.”

Halder visibly freezes. “In your sleeping bag?”

“It could be ours. Technically it already is. You’ve just given me dibs.”

“Why?”

I nibble on my lower lip. “Conserve body heat?”

“Is that the only reason?”

“I wouldn’t mind cuddling with you.”

A combination between a growl and moan rumbles up his throat. “I’d love nothing more than to keep you warm all night.”

I exhale a purr of my own. “That sounds better than just about anything.”

“If that’s the case, you’ve been living a deprived life.”

“Whatever you gotta tell yourself, big guy.” I nod at our bed. “Hop in.”

Halder follows my command without missing a beat. It takes a bit of elbow grease, but we manage to finagle ourselves in without busting a seam. It probably doesn’t hurt that I’m mostly laying on top of him, my back to his front. The elements can battle against us, but we’ll only band tighter together.

I can feel every hard inch of him pressed against my hip. My earlier estimate wasn’t overly generous. If anything, I was selling him short. There’s no doubt Halder could cause some memorable damage with that piece of equipment. It’s some sick twist on a chastity belt that the temperature must be nearing negative numbers outside of our steam bundle. If the conditions were slightly more pleasant, I’d strip and offer myself as a willing volunteer to see what that bad boy is capable of.

My limits are being tested. There’s no other explanation. Halder seems to be edging toward his breaking point as well. But even with the torturous cliff, I don’t regret this decision. Not a tiny bit.

I burrow lower into the joint warmth we’re brewing. “Thank you for everything.”

The arm he has banded around me cinches further. “You don’t have to keep repeating that.”

“Yes, I certainly do. You deserve to hear my undying admiration and applause.”

“Not sure I’m worthy of you saying it once.”

“It’s my goal to show how valuable you are.”

“Sure.” The curt response prods at my hackles.

It’s then I realize Halder is a stone pillar underneath me. His entire body is similar to a brick wall, the strain pulsing out of him. “Are you okay?”

One jerky nod. “Yeah, just fine. I’m a little…wound up.”

I pinch my features until an ache forms. “What does that mean?”

His exhale is gruff. “It’s been over five years since I’ve been this close to a woman, let alone spooning her against me. That leaves me in a tricky situation. I’ve been storing a lot of…extra reserves.”

“Oh, I see. Is there anything I can do?” I shift against him, and he groans.

“Try not to move,” he grits.

I remain motionless. “Better?”

“No, but I’ll survive.”

There’s no relief to be had, only further agitation of our shared arousal. We’ll combust. Eventually. I can only hope it’s during a mutually satisfying exchange of pleasure.

It’s a challenge, relying on steely resolve, but we relax into a comfortable position. The crackling flames mere feet away are all but forgotten. That priceless heat no longer feels necessary. All we require is the chemistry surging between us.

I drift off wearing a satisfied smile, regardless of the emptiness demanding to be filled.

Survival tip #18: Building a fire is easy with the right kind of wood.

Why am I hot and cold while sweating and shivering?

Without solving that riddle, a harsh twinge in my muscles drags me from the depths of slumber. Is that a spasm? But the burning under my skin distracts me before I can grasp a coherent explanation. I’m blazing hot and swimming in an abyss of lava. There’s a damn kettle dumping boiling water inside of me. A tickle of moisture dribbles along my hairline and traces down until I lose feeling of the path. Am I sweating? Nothing about this spike in temperature seems possible. Shouldn’t I be cold?

Last I recall, we fell asleep in the icy wilderness in the beginning of a blizzard. There’s no reason to believe that’s changed. We’re still stranded, and it’s freezing. But why is every inch of me on fire? My wits are barely lucid when realization filters in through the smoke. Dizziness attacks when I try peeling an eyelid open. A feminine whimper clues me in with a jolt.

Blakely is