Page 12 of His Wild Desire

"I should... probably let you get some rest," she murmurs, moving to stand. But her hand lingers on my forearm for a beat. "Actually... would you... I mean, do you want to lie down, too? With me?"

My brows wing upward as the implication behind her softly spoken words sinks in. Sleeping beside her. In the bed. Pressed together beneath those hand-stitched quilts, all sleep-warmed skin and tangled limbs.

Christ, just the thought of it has heat unfurling low in my gut.

Emma must sense my hesitation because she rushes on in a breathless tumble of words. "You don't have to, obviously. It was a stupid suggestion. I just thought—well, it's been a long day, and this couch isn't, you know... very comfortable…"

She trails off with a helpless shrug, her teeth worrying that lush lower lip again. And damn if the sight of it doesn't make me want to lean in and soothe the reddened flesh with my own mouth.

Emma's gaze drops to her lap. "You know what, forget I said anything. I'll just—"

"Alright."

The gruff word falls from my lips before I can reconsider, and those emerald eyes snap back to mine, rounded with surprise. A slow, almost giddy smile blooms across her face, and I can't resist the urge to reach out and tuck an errant strand of chestnut hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering to brush her flushed cheek.

With a soft exhale, Emma rises to her feet and holds out her hand in silent invitation. My calloused palm slips into hers as she leads the way to the bed, limping slightly, and climbs in, pulling back the covers for me to slide in beside her.

She snuggles up against my side, her delicate curves molding to the hard planes of my body like she was crafted to fit there, and I fight the urge to pull away, unaccustomed to such casual intimacy.

"God, you're like a furnace," she murmurs, her soft exhale tickling the hollow of my throat. Before I can respond, she presses her frigid feet against my calves, and I jolt at the icy touch with a muttered curse.

"Sorry," Emma laughs, not sounding the least bit apologetic. "My toes are always ice blocks."

"Clearly," I grumble, though there's no real bite behind the words.

She hums contentedly, draping one arm across my abdomen as she burrows deeper into my side. The simple, trusting gesture has something in my chest tightening in a wholly unfamiliar way.

Slowly, I allow the tension to bleed from my muscles, sinking back against the lumpy mattress with a weary sigh. Emma seems to sense the shift in me, because she presses a soft kiss to the curve of my shoulder before settling her head in the crook of my neck.

The crackle of dying embers fills the stillness between us, casting flickering shadows across the slanted beams above. I find myself matching my breathing to the steady rise and fall of Emma's ribcage, allowing the comforting weight of her to anchor me in this strange new intimacy.

Having her tangled up with me like this shouldn't feel so natural. Not when everything about our worlds is so vastly different, destined to diverge the second she's able to hike back down that mountain trail.

But as the minutes drift by in a cocoon of tranquil silence, I can't muster even a shred of resistance against the contentment slowly seeping into my bones.

I've spent so long carving out this solitary existence, convincing myself it's the only way I can find peace. That shutting the rest of the world out is the key to healing the jagged wounds left by loss and disappointment.

Yet in this moment, with Emma's soft curves molded to mine and her steady breaths ghosting against my skin, I've never felt so complete.

The realization is terrifying.

Emma lets out a contented hum, her fingers idly tracing patterns over my abdomen as she drifts toward sleep. I tighten my arm around her in response, drawing her closer until there's no space left between us.

For once, the solitude I've so fiercely guarded doesn't feel like a comfort. Instead, it looms like a threat, an empty expanse awaiting the inevitable moment this tranquil intimacy is shattered.

I swallow hard against the knot of uncharacteristic longing in my throat and press my lips to the crown of Emma's head, breathing in her hair's soft, floral scent.

In this moment, she's mine. And I'll be damned if I don't soak up every second of it while I can.

Chapter 6

Emma

The first pale streaks of dawn filter through the cabin's tiny window, casting soft bands of golden light across the rumpled quilt tangled around my legs. I blink my eyes open slowly, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings, before the memories come trickling back in a warm rush.

Caleb.

My gaze drifts to the source of delicious heat cocooning me from behind, and a helpless smile tugs at the corners of my mouth.

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