Can't Let Her Go

I push open the door and she turns to look at me. She says nothing as I join her on the mattress. I take the coat and put it around her.

“I don’t—”

“Shh,” I tell her. “It will keep you warm.”

“Are you sure? It seems like desecration or something.”

“He doesn’t need it anymore.” I don’t touch her. That’s not the right thing to do no matter how she looks underneath her clothes. We stare into the small fire. It’s hardly hot enough to keep us warm, but it beats the hell out of the blizzard cold. We sit there for a minute before she puts her hand on mine.

“Thank you,” she says with a smile, and that changes the air in the small space.

Suddenly, I can feel the heat from her body and smell her scent. Furious with myself, I stand hurriedly and walk to the fire. I add another log to it and look at our supply. We’re going to need more. “I’m going to get more wood,” I tell her. “When I kick the door, open it.”

“I can go with you.”

“No need. You’ll just get cold.”

“At least take the coat.” She shrugs off the coat and holds it out to me.

“Wear it and stay warm. It won’t fit me.” With a smile, I head out.

The glow from the snow gives enough light for me to see my way. I look left and right, hoping to find the Sherpa’s tracks from when he brought in the last load. I’m not that lucky. What I see could be anything. I turn right because right-handed people usually turn that way, and head around the house, slogging through the snow, looking for the wood pile. I have to go around three corners before I find the pile.

It’s a good-sized pile. At least Katya and I aren’t going to freeze to death. I pile as many as I can carry across my arms and slog on. I kick the door hard. She must have been waiting because the door opens immediately, and I push into the light and warmth. Not that much warmth, but better than the outside. I add my armload to the stock already on the floor and shake off the snow.

There is relief on her face as she watches me. Maybe she was thinking that I might not come back, that the cold and snow would do for me what a heart attack did for the Sherpa, and she would die here on her own, but even though I know her concern is motivated by selfish reasons, it feels right that she was waiting for me to return to her. “Go get warm,” I tell her.

Katya goes to the end of the mattress and sits, and I put the coat over the chair so it will dry. Then, I join her at the end of the mattress. I put my arm around her, and she rests her head on my shoulder. There’s nothing sexual in the gesture. It is almost that of a frightened child seeking reassurance.

“We’re not going to die here, are we?” she asks.

“Not a chance,” I lie. Actually, I give us a fifty-fifty chance of surviving. People die in blizzards every winter, smart people. I’m not so smart, and I wonder about her. We stare into the flames. I think of Detroit and Anakin, but my life there has taken on a dream-like quality. As if it was never real. Only this shelter and tiny fire and the head on my shoulders are true.

At this moment, I have no desire to go back. If there was a way to forage for food here, this would be my idea of paradise.

Katya

The American is strong and capable. He handled the Sherpa in a way I didn’t expect. And he retrieved more wood for us. They’re not so dry as the first logs. The log he put in pops and hisses in the fire, but it’s wood, and it gives off light and heat. That’s what we need at the moment. His arm reassures me, but I can tell he isn’t very confident that we’ll survive. He hides his fears the best he can, but I’m Russian. I understand how nature and bad luck can kill a person. This is a harsh country.

As I look into the fire, I remember how he looks naked. I remember the sex. I remember having him in my mouth and … other places. A sudden fire ignites in my belly. I have had sex only once, but my body seems to crave it. It is a visceral thing, a body thing. My brain has no control over it. No reason, no rationality. I don’t know how it happened, but the desire is always there.

It’s almost an ache. Only a couple of days ago I knew nothing of what being with a man can feel like. I don’t know if my presence affects him, but he moves suddenly. His eyes slide down and glance at my breasts. I know immediately what he’s thinking about. I know he sees me naked. I have no idea if I look pleasing or not to him, but I know I’m in his brain, like his image is in mine.

There’s nothing else to do on this godforsaken night.

He turns my chin and looks into my eyes. “Are you all right?”

His touch is tender, filled with concern. His eyes show a glow that I recognize. He is pretending he doesn’t want it, but he’s thinking of sex, both last night and tonight.

We’re human. We dream of sex.

Hunter

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C_3d6GntKbk&index=89&

(Pillowtalk)

“I’m cold,” she whispers, looking into my eyes.

Her face is pale, but there it is again. That thing between us. My heart pounds furiously within my chest. Anakin. You owe him everything, a voice whispers inside my head. It is just loud enough to keep my reasoning intact. This is Anakin’s girl. Having sex with her again isn’t going to solve anything. “I’ll get some more wood,” I say hoarsely, and start to stand.

She grabs both my wrists and pulls at them. “I don’t need a bigger fire. I need your warmth.”

I pull my wrists out of her grasp and walk towards the fire.

“Does my being close to you affect you that much?” she mocks softly.

I sit by the fire and pick up a stick to stoke it. Her eyes are on me. I know because I can feel her gaze piercing and bringing more heat than the crackling fire I was sitting right in front of.

Unable to utter a word, I just glare at the yellow flames as the moments tick by. The chill is gradually being chased away and in its place is an acute awareness of her. It is so strong I begin to sweat. It is only when I catch her in my peripheral vision as she begins to fall gently back onto the mattress, that I can no longer hold back. I turn to watch.

I can see her body trembling. My Princess turns her head and looks at me. I swallow the stone in my throat. Then she opens her mouth and calls to me. It was almost soundless, but I can feel it reverberate through me like a body of water disturbed by a stone skipping on its surface. “Hunter.”

Instantly, I go to her.

Sitting on the mattress, I pick her up and pull her into my arms. She truly is trembling and I feel a painful remorse wash through me as I link my fingers with hers. I wonder how she could be so cold.

“You’re cruel,” she whispers to me as her eyes shut.

I watch her angelic face, my chest tight. How could she have such an effect over me? Her soft pink mouth parts and I can’t stop myself. I’m only a man. I lower my head and take her lips in a soft kiss. The contact thrusts a painful dose of desire straight to my cock.

She kisses me back, slowly, purposefully, and I can almost convince myself that all she’s looking for is as much heat from me as is possible. Her hands come around my neck as she deepens the kiss. I can still remember how shy and tentative her mouth was only a day ago. She pulls away and in the next moment, she is straddling my hips and my back is slammed to the floor. With her hands to my shoulders she pins me in place and begins to gyrate her hips, rubbing her pussy against my already swollen dick.

“Katya,” I snarl warningly, but she squirms her hips and her wetness soaks through our clothes. I take a shuddering breath. God, this woman is a natural seductress who has taken to sex like a duck to water. And I need her. I need her so fucking bad, my head feels like it is going to damn well explode if I don’t have her.

“We need this for warmth,” she says. “You can console yourself with that.”

I grab both her arms and roll her to the mattress. She gasps with surprise as we change positions and I pin her arms high above her head, making her breasts jut out.

“You’re hurting me,” she br

eathes.

I know that is a lie, but my hold on her hands loosens, and quick as a flash she reaches up to press her cold nose to mine, her eyes so close that I can make out the streaks of gold in her irises. She doesn’t move and neither do I.

“I’m really cold Hunter” she whispers, and her breath, so warm and direct on my skin is like an aphrodisiac.

She is right. The damage is done. We’re already in trouble. What difference would it make if we have sex again? I part her lips with mine and slip my tongue into her mouth. The taste of her is clean and warm and haunting.

It takes me past reason.