Page 92 of Brambles and Bellflowers
My face was hot as I pushed to my hands and knees, but he didn’t move. Our cave was small, and the light from the fire reached even the most shadowy corners. He could easily look at me at any time, but he steadfastly remained turned away.
I hesitated before slowly peeling off the damp clothes and crumpling back onto the ground, covering myself. “I—I’m done,” I whispered.
Miles didn’t turn around. Instead, he extended his arm out to the side, close enough for me to touch, and held the blanket out in my direction. “Here.”
“T-thanks,” I said, grabbing the blanket.
I pulled my knees up and wrapped myself tightly in it. Only after I’d settled did Miles turn from his stance near the wall. He continued to look away as he sat, legs crossed, his back to the stone.
He remained subdued as he watched the floor near the fire, seemingly deep in thought.
Although the fire fought off the chill, it couldn’t warm the ground beneath me. We sat near the cave’s entrance to let the smoke escape, but because of this, our camp was in the path of the occasional breeze.
The fire helped, but the drafts were persistent. I glanced at Miles, wondering if he felt as cold as I did.
He sat across from me, his back to the cave entrance, absorbed in the fire’s glow. He seemed unfazed by the situation and wasn’t much for talking. My stomach rumbled, and he glanced up once, apologizing for our lack of food. Our only supplies were those that were here: the blanket, a dwindling supply of firewood, and a rusty hunting knife.
Despite the sparse provisions, we would manage. Things would look different by morning.
The trepidation began to release me as he’d kept his promise to make me comfortable, not once giving me an awkward look. It was considerate of him. But why did he have to sit so far away? And still in his wet clothes, too—he was the one who risked catching a cold.
This was ridiculous. What would the others say about me if Miles died from being too noble?
If I were normal, this wouldn’t even be an issue. If I were any other girl, he’d be under this blanket with me.
It’d been a long time since I’d been near a naked man—Titus didn’t count since nudity seemed to come so naturally to him. I wasn’t sure if I was mentally ready, but I had no choice. I couldn’t be selfish.
“You should take off your clothes too,” I said, hoping he couldn’t see the rising heat in my face. “We can share.”
Miles gasped, pulling back. “I can’t!”
I sighed.
We couldn’t afford for me to be dramatic right now.
Besides, there was this other matter… It was getting harder to stay awake; I’d never done well in freezing temperatures.
“I’m cold…” I’d stopped shivering some time ago. How much worse might it be for him?
Miles moved to his feet, rushed to me, and cursed as he ran his hands over the blanket. His rough knuckles brushed against my jaw in his hurry—his skin was like ice. His brown eyes swam in my vision, and he didn’t even try to hide his panic.
“What can I do…” he asked, helplessness lacing his voice.
Well, we had only one blanket and only one logical solution.
“You’re c-cold too.” I was so nervous I could hardly speak. “Get n-naked and come under the blanket with me. We can warm each other.”
Besides, it would be fine. From my understanding, a man’smanhoodwas not nearly so impressive in such terrible temperatures. I had no idea how large he might be, but surely there was less chance of accidental rubbings or even, dare I say, arousals.
That would be a situation I would much rather avoid.
“I won’t!” he protested, dropping his hands from my shoulders as he looked away. “I can see that you’re scared.”
“It’s not that bad,” I countered.
This was my idea, so why was I nervous? Maybe there was a better way, a solution I missed, and he’d think of it now.
It wasn’t like he’d agree. The man was stubborn. He played soccer bare-chested and flaunted his endurance in freezing weather.
