Page 22 of Chasing the Wild
We worked together to zip the sleeping bags together, creating one large cocoon. Modern sleeping bags weren't really designed for this, but we made it work—her mummy bag and my rectangular one combining into something that would fit both of us if we stayed close.
Very close.
"Okay," I said, stripping off my outer layers down to my base layer thermals. "Keep your base layers on for now. We'll do full skin-to-skin if needed, but let's start here."
She nodded and started stripping out of her outer layers. I tried not to watch, tried to focus on organizing our gear.
But I couldn't help it. Couldn't help watching as she revealed the body I'd been fantasizing about for two days. Even in thermal underwear, she was gorgeous—all curves and soft skin and feminine perfection.
Mine. This woman was mine.
"Sam?" Her voice was uncertain. "Are you okay?"
"No," I said honestly. "I'm about two seconds from losing control. From throwing you down and claiming you right here. From making you mine in every way possible."
Her breath hitched. "What's stopping you?"
"You're cold. You need to warm up. You need—"
"I need you." She moved closer, her hand coming up to rest on my chest. "I need to feel alive, Sam. Need to feel you. Need to know this is real."
"Jess—"
"I almost died today." Her eyes met mine, fierce and determined. "And all I could think about was that I'd never know what it felt like to be yours. Really yours. Please don't make me wait anymore."
My control snapped like a rotted rope.
"Get in the bag," I growled.
She scrambled into the combined sleeping bags, and I followed her, zipping us in. The space was tight, forcing us together, and suddenly there was no part of her not pressed against me.
"Christ, you're cold," I said, wrapping around her instinctively.
"Then warm me up," she challenged.
I pulled her closer, tucking her head under my chin, wrapping body around hers. The position put her soft body against every hard plane of mine, and I felt her shiver—but not from cold this time.
"Better?" I asked, my hands running up and down her back, generating friction and warmth.
"Getting there."
I rubbed her arms, her back, her legs through the thermal fabric. Professional. Clinical. Except my hands were shaking and my cock was rock-hard against her stomach and there was nothing professional about the way she was looking at me.
"Sam," she whispered.
"Yeah, baby?"
"I'm warm enough now."
"You sure? Because I want you thinking clearly when I—"
"I'm thinking clearly." Her hand slid down my chest, lower. "I'm thinking about how you promised to claim me."
"Jess," I groaned.
"I want that," she said fiercely. "I want all of it. I want you to make me forget everything except that I'm yours."
"You don't know what you're asking for."
