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> > ><i>More. This is one of the last major events before >the end of the novel. Emma and Michael are in a cabin >far up in the mountains, ostentatiously to winterize >the cabin and restock emergency rations. The light >snow that began their trip turned into a steady >downfall, but they are well prepared for the weather. >They had a fight, mostly because Michael thinks Emma >is going to sleep with him that night. Emma's pissed >because he's probably right.</i> > > >I heard him come in, slamming his boots against the >doorframe to knock off the show. The blast of cold >air alone would have woken me, but I ignored it and >pretended sleep. I lay on my side at the edge of the >bed, cursing myself for not facing the other direction. > >The door closed and I could hear the boss breathing. >Just standing there. Then, thunk! Thunk! His boots >hit the side wall, and his quiet, furtive sounds of >movement made me curious. I risked a tiny peek from >one eye. > >He had found a piece of rope and was busy tying a >makeshift clothesline around the cabin. So that was >what those hooks were for. He moved very >deliberately, pulling the rope taunt, hanging my >coveralls and outerwear to dry just so. He then >shrugged out of his own parka and threw it over a >section near the fire, arranging it so it hung evenly. > His coveralls went next, snow sliding in great chunks >to melt on the floor. His under jacket, his thermals, >then, dear god. I closed my eyes, trying not to think >about how far the striptease would go. > >His breath was faster now, gasping in the cold. I >heard him pad quickly over to the bed, felt his weight >on the mattress behind me. He climbed under the >blankets, letting in a shaft of cold air that made me >shiver. > >He lay still. I think he was on his back. His breath >was shallow. > >Slowly, I felt his warmth creep over to my side of the >bed. At first it was welcome, then damned near >uncomfortable. > >"You're not asleep," he said. > >I let out the breath I had been holding but didn't >answer him. > >He shifted in the bed. Closer. Just behind me. I >felt his voice against my neck. > >"And you're not ignoring me." > >His hand slid over my waist, underneath my shirt, >spread wide against my stomach. He moved even closer, >fitting his knees behind mine and my back to his >chest. For half a second, I wished I hadn't gone to >bed covered in flannel. I wondered how much of it he >still had on. > >His hand kept moving under my clothes. He traced over >my hip, reaching as far down my thigh as he could, >then up along my spine and finally, under my arm to >cup my breast in his palm. I started to shake a >little. > >Groaning slightly, he took his hand from my shirt and >put a finger on my cheek, tracking along towards my >ear, down my jaw. When he reached my lips, I couldn't >help myself. I kissed the tip of his finger. > >"Ha!" He shouted, startling my eyes open. Next thing >I knew was being under him, next to his skin, feeling >the heat of it even through my thermal underwear. He >kissed me, good and long, pulling his lips from mine >just long enough to breathe and go back for more. > >We reached for the hem of my shirt at the same time. >He pulled it up over my head and yanked hard on it >when it got hitched under my ears. > >“Ow!" I said. "Wait. It’s stuck. Just wait. Wait. >Oh.” > >But his lips were already on my breasts, nibbling, >licking. I wriggled, but my shirt was firmly stuck >around my neck. > >“Shit. Seriously, Michael, just wait a second. Let me >undo the buttons.” > >His mouth left my chest and I felt him bury his face >in my stomach. He was shaking. I pushed the shirt >low enough to work open the damnably tiny buttons, >then flung the wretched thing across the room. I >think it landed in the sink. > >“Fucking shirt.” I looked down at him. “Are you >laughing at me?” > >“Here I am, trying to be romantic and make love to you >and the first thing you say is 'Ow!'” > >“I’m surprised you heard me at all.” > >“I can’t help it. Your breasts are glorious.” > >“They are not. They’re lopsided.” > >“Really?” He rose above me, raising the blankets with >him. He made a great show of studying my breasts. > >“You’re letting in a draft. I’ll get all >goose-pimply.” > >He put a hand on each one, kneading softly, gave them >a little wiggle. > >“You know, I think you’re right. The left one is just >a little bit bigger.” > >“Thank you for confirming a complex I’ve had since >ninth grade.” > >“One of my balls is bigger than the other.” > >“Really?” > >“Oh yeah. I thought I had cancer when I was six.” > >I reached in between us and felt him up. > >“A little gentler this time, please,” he said, not >looking all too worried. > >I gave him a tiny squeeze. > >“Oh sheesh, it’s hardly noticeable.” > >“Hardly noticeable? Now that will give a guy a >complex.” > >I moved my hand slightly north, gripping with a little >more force. He let his breath out in a whoosh. > >“Notice that?” > >In response, he put his hands on the waistband of my >thermal bottoms and shoved them down to my knees. >When I lifted my legs to kick them off, Michael took >full advantage, settling down between my thighs. I >shivered. > >“You’re cold,” he said. “We can fix that.” > >He reached behind him and pulled the covers up over >his shoulders, over our heads, cocooning us in >blankets. For a moment, we simply breathed, letting >the dark space between us grow warm. > >I raised my head to kiss him. I found his nose >instead but kissed it anyway. > >“I want to feel you, Emma. I want to feel your >fingers. Touch me." > >“Where?” > >“Anywhere. Everywhere.” > >So I touched him, slid my fingertips across his back, >let my palms drag down towards his rear, pressed him >closer. His tongue found my earlobe, breath warm and >loud. I stroked his ribs, wrapped my arms tight >across his back. We twisted together like smoke in >the dark, closer than was thought possible. We began >to sweat and slide against each other. He licked the >salt from my skin, his lips lingering on the hollow of >my throat. My hands caught in his hair, pushed his >mouth to my breast. > >His weight grew heavier on top of me, sinking me into >the bed. It was a glorious pressure. I wanted more. > >“Please.” I moved my hips, bucking up under him. >“Please. Now.” > >We paused again, the air around us had grown hot and >heavy. I reached between us and took him in hand, >guiding him to me. He lowered his forehead to mine. > >He entered me in one long, smooth glide. He stayed >there, pressed into me, part of me, breathing with me. > He pushed in further, then withdrew. > >It was a slow rhythm at first, more like the gentle >rocking of a hammock, comforting and easy, like waves >on an ocean, our small gasps the crest of whitecaps >against sand. But I didn’t want smooth sailing. I >wanted a firestorm. > >So I pushed up to meet him, raising my hips off the >bed to meet his thrust. > >“More,” I breathed. It was the only word I could >think of. > >“Yes, more,” he said, taking my waist in his hands. >“Much more.” > >We began in earnest then, stealing what kisses and >caresses we could between the eager surging thrusts. >Soon our panting became grunts, our gasps became >groaning, and I began to hover on the edge of >something sharp. > >He lowered his mouth to my breast once more and gave >it a sharp nip. My legs convulsed across his thighs. >We moved faster. I could hear the bedpost smacking >against the wall, the horses moving in the next room, >but nothing mattered except the rasp of his voice and >the sound of skin on skin, the bursts of my own >strained voice when I told him I wanted even more. > >He buried one hand in my hair and pressed his face >into my neck. I felt his tongue on my pulse, a hot >burst of sensation with every heartbeat. > >It started in my toes. My calves flexed and my knees >moved wider apart. A hot, wet feeling went through >me, pulling every muscle tight, forcing the air from >my lungs in a wild cry. I felt him bite my shoulder >and shudder into me, pressing, holding, releasing deep >inside me. > >My nose was buried into his neck. I inhaled him, us, >the scent of our mingling. He started to move but I >held him close, afraid to lose the moment. Turning >his head to meet my lips, he kissed any objections >away as he slowly lifted himself from me. > >We settled with him behind me, one of his legs thrown >up between mine. It would have seemed so easy to stay >like that forever, to forget the ranch, the snow, even >my name, and just be with him. To soak up his love >and push everything else away. > >Instead, I fell asleep. I hope I didn’t snore.
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