Page 19 of A SEAL's Protection
“You can finish it off.”
I turn to my pack, needing to put distance between us. I take my time checking my samples and storing the laptop before retrieving a meal in a foil pouch. When I look back, Marcus has put on a shirt and has his own pack and meal heating in the fire.
I don’t ask him to back off. After today, the ten feet rule no longer applies. I’m stuck with him no matter what, and that’s strangely comforting.
He tears into his pack, and we eat in silence as the night deepens around us. We’re higher in altitude tonight, and there’s a chill in the air that I haven’t felt before.
I shiver and then stand up quickly, not wanting Marcus to see. I’m supposed to be independent out here, but I’ve lost half my gear, and if he wasn’t here I’d be in real trouble.
Marcus stands up and stretches like he’s got all the time in the world.
“I’ll do a perimeter check, then it’s time to bunk down.”
His gaze finds mine, and he doesn’t have to state it. We both know what the sleeping arrangements need to be, unless he’s got some gear tucked away he’s not telling me about.
“I don’t suppose you’ve got a spare tent?” I ask hopefully.
“Nope.”
He washes his fork out in the river.
“Or a spare sleeping bag.”
“Nope.”
I scan our surroundings, looking for any other option but the obvious.
“I could lay some clothes on the ground and bed down in the undergrowth.”
Marcus shakes his head, but when he speaks, his tone is gentle. “I’m sorry you lost your gear, Allegra, but it’s not just an inconvenience. It could be dangerous. We’ll share the sleeping bag.”
My pride bristles at his words, even though I know it’s the only logical option. With the temperatures dropping, hypothermia is a real risk. There’s no choice.
I swallow my pride and nod. “Okay.”
Crawling under the shelter and into Marcus’s sleeping bag is crossing a line I never intended to cross. He slides in next to me, and the fabric pulls taut around us.
I roll onto my side, and Marcus rolls onto his, facing away from each other. We shuffle to find a position where the fabric covers us both. I try to keep my distance, but our backs brush up against each other. Every touch is amplified as we shuffle for position. I stop fighting it and let my back rest against his solid one.
The heat from his back radiates against mine, and I let out a long, slow breath, relaxing for the first time today.
The sleeping bag smells like him—earthy and masculine.
A shiver runs through me, and I tell myself it’s from the cold, not from the hard body pressed up against mine. In response to my shiver, Marcus moves closer, and the heat from his body warms me in places it shouldn’t.
I lie for a long time staring at the wall of the makeshift tent.
This is just survival, I tell myself. Nothing more.
His breathing steadies, and mine relaxes with him. Surrounded by his scent, his heat and the steady rise and fall of his breath, I drift into a dreamless sleep.
9
MARCUS
It’s around midday two days later when the trail gets wider and we come out on the side of a dusty road.
Ahead is the small town of Faro. It’s more of a crossroads than a town. There’s a bakery, a diner, and a general store that doubles as the post office.
