Page 10 of His Stormy Seduction

Then, abruptly, I'm tumbling out of the narrow entrance and into a slightly roomier hollow within. Garrett's strong hands catch my shoulders, steadying me as the dim light filtering in from the crevice's mouth illuminates the tight quarters.

It's barely big enough for the two of us—a narrow wedge of space between the towering rock walls that quickly tapers off into solid stone. I swallow hard against the surge of claustrophobia, trying to control my breathing as the walls seem to press inward.

"Cozy, huh?" Garrett rumbles.

I shoot him an unamused look. "Oh yeah. The height of luxury accommodations."

His lips twitch at the sarcasm, but his eyes hold the same grim awareness reflected in my own. This is far from ideal, but it's better than being exposed to the elements overnight at these brutal altitudes.

With a resigned sigh, I sink down to the uneven floor, tucking my knees up toward my chest to conserve warmth. Garrett settles in behind me, our bodies instinctively aligning in the cramped space. His solid frame presses against my back, the heat radiating from his broad chest searing through the layers of my clothing.

I tense at first, acutely aware of every point where his muscles make scorching contact with my body's softer curves. But Garrett simply drapes his arm over my waist, the calloused palm of his hand a reassuring weight against my abdomen as he tugs me flush against him.

Despite his anger with me, he can’t help but take care of me.

The silence stretches out, growing heavier with each passing second as the last of the daylight winks out. Unbidden, a violent shiver wracks my frame. The icy wind has found its way in through the crevice entrance, lashing us with frozen tendrils.

"You're trembling," Garrett murmurs, the words a heated rasp against the sensitive skin just below my ear that sends a shiver of an entirely different sort skittering down my spine.

"I'm f-fine," I try to protest, even as my hammering pulse and the goosebumps erupting across my arms betray me. "Just the chill s-setting in."

"We need to strip down," Garrett declares in a tone that allows no argument.

My eyes go wide, certain I must have misheard that gruff command. "Excuse me?"

But he simply meets my incredulous stare with those intense, unblinking eyes as he starts shrugging off his jacket. "Body heat will be the only way to stay warm enough to survive the night. Which means getting out of these cold, damp clothes before the chill sets in."

Oh.

My mouth works soundlessly for a few seconds as the reality of his words sinks in. Of course, he's absolutely right—a fact my rational brain is aware of. But there's a big difference between knowing the survival principles in theory and actually putting them into practice.

"You're sure this is the only way?" I hedge.

"Would you rather freeze to death?" he counters, already making quick work of unbuckling his belt. "Because I can promise you that's a cold, lonely way to go."

The bluntness of his words sends a shiver skittering down my spine that has nothing to do with the frigid draft swirling around us. "N-no, you're right."

With trembling fingers, I fumble with the buttons of my flannel as Garrett efficiently strips off the rest of his layers. I can't resist the urge to steal a glance at him from the corner of my eye, and what I see has my mouth going dry.

Sweet mercy...

Even in the low light, it's impossible to miss the sheer masculine perfection on display as he sheds layer after layer. My eyes are drawn helplessly to the roped cords of muscle rippling beneath bronzed skin, the broad, powerful contours accentuated by flickering shadows. The man is quite literally sculpted.

And as if that weren't enough to reduce me to a puddle, there's that tantalizing trail of red-gold hair disappearing beneath the low-slung waistband of his boxer briefs in a teasing promise of what lies beneath.

Heat suffuses my cheeks in a furious blush as I abruptly tear my gaze away, focusing intently on my own fumbling attempts to undress in such tight quarters. No matter how tempting the visuals, I can't afford to get distracted right now. My very survival could depend on keeping a clear head.

By the time I've stripped down to my simple cotton bra and underwear, the chill has set in enough to have me shivering uncontrollably. Garrett pulls me back against him in the small space. His body is a furnace at my back, the delicious heat radiating into me and momentarily easing the worst of the tremors.

"I'll need to insulate us both," he rumbles in a tone that's all business, yet somehow still has arousal sparking along my nerve endings.

I nod shakily, not trusting my voice as he arranges us into a tight, compact bundle, my back plastered to that searing wall of muscle.

Every rational thought has fled in the wake of our intimate proximity. All I can focus on is the feeling of his powerful body enveloping mine, the tickle of his warm breath against the nape of my neck, the scorching heat of skin against skin...

This was such a bad idea.

How am I supposed to focus on survival when my senses are overwhelmed by the pure masculine essence surrounding me? When the memories of his touch are seared into my mind in a permanent burn?

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