Page 182 of Frost and Death
I shake my head and move away from the fire, grabbing the napkin and adjusting into a sitting position. Opening it, there is some dried fruit, bread, and a pastry.
My stomach flips as a smile spreads wide across my face. I lift my gaze to Jerrick, met with a bashful grin.
“Thank you,” I breathe.
Jerrick scratches the back of his head in response, both of us going for the solstice pastry first. We each study the other, chewing and swallowing the treat before the rest of our dinner.
Jerrick tends to the fire every so often as I finish my food. He takes my napkin, brushing the crumbs off past a fallen tree, and folds it into the satchel.
“Go ahead and rest. I’m going to tend to the horse,” Jerrick says.
I glance around our campsite, a cold breeze blowing in the air. Not being close enough to the fire, it sends a tremor through my body.
I look at the flames, the blanket, and Jerrick, deciding against my better judgment to scoot over to a small section of the blanket. Knowing I am falling for this trap, I hug myself and face the fire, hopeful it’ll keep me warm all night and that I won’t do anything stupid should Jerrick lie beside me.
I make myself comfortable and ease down on my side, darting my eyes between the embers in front and Jerrick. He catches me staring, and I avert my attention back to the fire, grateful he did not say anything.
Jerrick’s footsteps crunch on the fallen leaves, making their way to me.
My heartbeat hammers in my ears as he settles beside me, keeping as much distance as he can while attempting to make himself comfortable. I watch the base of the fire, listening to the crackle and smelling the smoke permeating the air, trying to focus on the heat warming me rather than the man behind me.
He is so close—soclose that if I moved a muscle, we would be touching.
I push down the thought, needing to suppress my desires while we are away.
I need to stay focused on breaking the curse.
I need to stay focused on training my magic.
I need tonotfocus on the man next to me.
Even though I say nothing to Jerrick, I try to push past my conflicts and the phantom touch of his hands on my stomach.But I imagine them drifting lower—low enough to have my insides flex with need. The temptation furthers my arousal, repeating itself through my mind.
I bite my lip, desperately fighting the urge to roll over and ride my pleasure into release.
I watch the embers as a distraction. They dance and spin, the wind blowing as each one floats into the sky. Counting them clears my mind, sleep dragging me into a deep slumber when the fire dies out.
39
Predator and Prey
Aslight tug on my shirt wakes me. I ignore it, adjusting my sleeping position. But the tugging of my clothes starts again like I am being nudged. Finally annoyed by the poking sensation, I move to tell Jerrick to let me sleep, only to stop when a hand clasps over my mouth.
“Shh. Don’t move,” Jerrick whispers in a hushed tone.
I barely register what is happening as Jerrick guides my backside to him, his hard length pressing into me as he wraps a protective arm around me. Groaning inwardly, I bite my lip to refrain from moaning.
This is not the time or the place to be thinking about that, Tove.
It doesn’t help when Jerrick pats my body. “Where are your knives?”
I finally open my eyes.
“Fuck,” he says, sounding distraught.
I clench my thighs at the guttural tone, sinful thoughts distracting me, and my nipples tighten in response.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
