HER BODYGUARD

Kimberly dropped the second boot to the floor and wished the man sitting there in the dark beside her could be a bit open minded and that they could get along for once after this. She realized that as annoying as he could be, he was a good man. But she couldn’t kid herself for too long. She wondered if he was really being this way because he cared, or because he was doing his job.

Whichever one it was, she was grateful to him. Grateful that he was with her.

“Come here,” Asher said. “You’re shivering again.”

With a sigh, Kimberly turned and positioned herself between his hard thighs. They arranged the blankets into a nest to shelter them. She wrapped one of them around her feet and legs as he’d instructed.

The others he drew around him and thus around them both, with the thermal tarp on top as he settled back against the door.

The tarp was big enough to cover them completely, wrapping around their bodies with plenty to tuck snugly over their legs and feet. He enveloped her in his big arms and pulled her back against his broad chest.

Instantly, she felt warmer, comforted. Safe. But how comfortable was he? “What about your back?” Kimberly asked.

“It’s fine,” he said.

“But isn’t it cold against the door like that?” Kimberly insisted.

“Kimberly, I said It’s fine.” He replied. He held her even closer. It felt so good. She tried not to enjoy it too awfully much. His warm breath stirred her hair as he added downright cheerfully, “I’m feeling quite toasty, as a matter of fact.” he said.

“Toasty.” She repeated. She allowed herself a smile.

“Try to get some rest,” he said.

“Is it still snowing?” Kimberly asked. She struggled to sit higher, to see out the back window, rubbing against him intimately as she moved. He made a low sound, quickly quelled. It might have been the beginnings of a groan. His big arms tightened, holding her still.

“Stay here. Stay warm.” He said. His deep, wonderful voice rumbled against her back and lower down she felt… him. Heat flooded her cheeks as she realized that her wriggling about to see out the back window had aroused him.

She gulped and tried to sit still and reminded herself he couldn’t see her blush. It was too dark and she had her back to him. She cleared her throat. “I just wanted to see if it was still snowing.” She said,

“It is.” He replied.

“Has it let up any?” she asked.

“No. Rest.” he said again.

She didn’t think she could sleep. No way. This was too strange and wonderful. It was… like all her forbidden fantasies somehow came to life: the two of them, in the darkness, all wrapped up together, nice and tight. Yes, she felt a bit embarrassed at the thick, hard ridge of him pressing low against her back.

But she also felt… excited by it. Glad. To have such basic, undeniable proof that he desired her, that he wanted her. That he wasn’t as indifferent to her as he always tried to make her believe. It was a petty sort of triumph and she knew that. At least she knew now that she wasn’t the only one feeling this way.

She ordered herself to stop being smug. The man couldn’t help his biological response, what with her all smashed up against his private parts like this. His physical arousal proved nothing-except that he was a man and she was a woman. He had done his duty by her tonight, and then some. She would be thankful for that and behave better in the future.

Her body slowly relaxed. Now that her teeth were no longer chattering, she could actually almost feel optimistic.

Yes, it had been an awful experience, all told. But there was a bright side. Neither of them had been injured. It appeared the old man in the brown pickup had somehow escaped unscathed. And as soon as the snow stopped and daylight came, they would be rescued.

It could have been so much worse. And she really was exhausted. She closed her eyes and rested her head back against the steady, sure beating of his heart.

Her eyes drifted shut.

—————————

“Asher?” Her voice, soft. Tentative. He heard her call his name one more time.

Asher stirred from hazy dreams where he was hard and aching and she was pressed tight against him. He couldn’t push her away. He had, for some reason unclear to him but urgent, to keep her close, to hold her in his arms. He couldn’t push her away.

But he couldn’t kiss her, either. Couldn’t take away all her clothes and bury himself in her velvety heat….

That was wrong.

That could never be.

It was torture of the most unbearable kind. And he knew how it went when you were tortured. If your tormentor was good enough, eventually, you would give it all up-betray your family, your team, all you held dear. Just to make the agony stop.

“Asher?” her voice called again.

He blinked, opened his eyes to darkness.

And remembered. Kimberly Blake. Rowdy’s Roadhouse. The crash.

Kimberly Blake actually was pressed against him. His dream of being tortured endlessly by an unflagging state of arousal was real.

“Are you awake?” she asked.

“I am now,” he grumbled and set his mind to blocking out the ache in his groin.

Wrapped in their cocoon of blankets and the tarp, they were warm, and that was what mattered. His socks were already dry and he didn’t have to worry about her getting frostbite or pneumonia-or worse, freezing to death before rescue came.

“The snow?” she asked.

He peered over the seat. “Looks like it’s still coming down,” he replied.Copyright by Nôv/elDrama.Org.

“What time is it?” she asked.

He freed his arm long enough to look at his watch. “Ten to two.”he said.

“Your phone?” she asked.

He tried the headset. “Still out. Go to sleep. In a few hours, this will all be over.” he replied.

She didn’t do what he asked her to do. But then, she rarely had. “I have a confession,” she whispered.

“Save it for a priest,” he said softly.

She made a low sound in her throat. A soft sound. A sexy sound. A sound that seemed to go straight to his tortured privates.