by Olivia Noble
Darn. I don’t think I was complaining about that, was I? “How many trips did you make to the plane?” I ask him.
“Only one,” he explains. “I saw you had a sleigh in the garage, so I just loaded that up with as much as I could carry and pulled it back.”
“That’s smart. You’re resourceful.”
“I can be,” he says with a yawn.
“Okay,” I tell him, rising to my feet. I touch his shoulder lightly before moving to the bedroom. “Thank you for a wonderful dinner, Adam. It really was nice. I am going to call it a night.”
He takes my fingers in his, and presses a kiss on the back of my hand in an old-timey way. “The pleasure was all mine, Eve. Goodnight.”
Moving toward my room, and closing the door behind me, I smile a little as I get ready for bed. I even notice that I am humming to myself. I remove all traces of my makeup, and put on a new nightgown, which is a pale seafoam green color. I always feel so pretty and feminine wearing these. I know they aren’t exactly fashionable, but they just make me happy.
After finishing all my bedtime rituals, I plug my phone in to charge at my bedside table. Then I move to take off my bedroom light. But just as I do this, the light turns off without my permission. I stand there for a moment, staring at the light switch, hoping the light will turn back on.
I gingerly reach out to flip the switch on and off. It’s not working.
“Dammit,” I curse, trying not to panic as I open my bedroom door. Adam is already tucked into my armchair, and he is only visible by the pale moonlight reflecting off the snow outside. He is wearing an adorable pair of striped pajamas that make him look very fatherly.
“The power is gone,” I announce.
“Are you sure?” he asks. “I thought you said you had a few days remaining?”
“Well, maybe my emergency backup generator wasn’t built to handle someone using the oven to cook a fancy, full three-course meal.”
“I’m sorry,” Adam says. “I know that I wasn’t being conservative with the power. But I just felt really bad for everything—showing up here like this, imposing on you, ruining your sleep…”
“It’s fine,” I tell him with a sigh. “Maybe the storm will let up and the power will be back on soon. Can you just build a fire for heat in the meantime?”
“Sure,” he responds, rising to his feet. “Don’t worry, we will get through this.”
“We better,” I respond, with my hands on my hips.
Adam limps toward the fireplace, and he has trouble bending to put the logs in. I immediately feel guilty for making him do that.
He clears his throat. “By the way, Eve. I love the way that nightgown looks on you. Your red dress was stunning, but I think you are so beautiful like this. And I love the way you look without makeup.”
“Why is that?” I ask him, perfectly aware that there is no way I could look half as good as I did earlier. Men always say silly things like this that they probably don’t mean.
“It just looks like something you’d wear on Christmas morning to open presents,” Adam says with a smile that warms my insides more than the fireplace could. “It makes me feel like I get to see some soft, private side of you that you wouldn’t show to others in the outside world. Like it’s a secret just between you and me. Also, it just makes me want to cuddle you. You look so cozy, and I can’t help wondering what you would feel like in my arms.”
“Well, thank you… kind sir,” I say with a polite and awkward nod, as I retire to my bedroom. I shut the door behind me, and stand against it for a second, with a hand on my chest. These warm and fuzzy feelings need to just stop. This is too much.
I try to remind myself that I have no idea who this guy is. But I’m still sighing at the romance of his words, like an idiot. But he’s the idiot who used up all the power cooking dinner. Unless it was intentional? Did he think that it would somehow make me more susceptible to all that cozy cuddling he mentioned, if he broke the heating of my house? If he made my house the freezing temperature of Alaska? This better not be part of his moves.
I grimace. Well, I will not bend or break. I do not need any warm and cozy cuddles with any extremely handsome men who are excellent cooks, and I am fine here by myself, alone in my bed.
At least until we run out of firewood.
And then I’ll just send him to chop some.
But his leg is injured. Fine, I’ll chop some myself.
I tuck myself in, and place my head firmly on my orthopedic pillow. I wiggle around to get comfortable and sigh contentedly. I am going to try my best not to think about Adam or stress out about the power, and just get some good rest.
I’m from Minnesota. I grew up in goddamned Snowflake Creek.
My last name is Frost.
I can handle a little cold.
Chapter Seven
It’s too fricking cold.
Shivering in bed, I pull the blankets closer around me. Dammit. I have already gotten up three times throughout the night to grab warm socks, pajama pants, and a heavy flannel robe. I am sure that it’s warmer in the central area of the cabin, where Adam is, but the fireplace isn’t in my bedroom.
I have been tossing and turning and shivering for hours before I get to the point that my teeth start chattering. I decide that the only way to get some heat into this room is to crack my door open. But I am so cold that it takes a lot of energy to get out of the blankets and into the frigid air. I force myself to get up and pad across the floor in my stocking, opening my bedroom door a slight bit. I expected to get a rush of warm air come into the room, but it doesn’t seem much warmer.
I am surprised when I notice that the armchair is empty. I open the door wider, and see that Adam is sitting in front of the fireplace with blankets wrapped around his shoulders.
“You can’t sleep?” I ask him softly.
“No,” he responds. “My whole leg is getting really swollen and painful. The injury might be worse than I thought.”
“I’m so sorry,” I tell him. “Did you want to try some of my painkillers?”
“I already took some earlier, and it seems to be wearing off. I don’t want to overdo it. I think that I might have aggravated my leg a bit too much today, and I should have gotten more rest.”
“You did do quite a lot,” I respond, leaning against the doorway and looking at him.
He has extended his injured leg, and he is pressing on it and wincing. He seems worried. Then I notice that he is also cold and shivering. I feel so bad for him.
“Adam,” I say softly. “Do you want to share the bed with me?”
He looks up at me with surprise. “Are you sure you’d be okay with that?”
“It’s freezing,” I explain, “and you’re injured… I don’t want you to sleep on the floor or in the chair.”
“But will you be comfortable with me there?” he asks again.
“Yes,” I respond. “I’m cold, too. And… I could use some hugs.” I turn and marching back to bed. I climb under the blankets and bury my face in the pillow to hide my embarrassment. Oh my god, I can’t believe I just said that. How humiliating.
For a second, I’m afraid that he doesn’t want to join me. I didn’t hear him agree, and he doesn’t show up right away. I remain here, alone, shivering and in bed, feeling mortified. But then I feel Adam’s weight sink in the bed behind me. He groans in pain.
I forgot—his movement is slowed down by the injury. When I feel the warmth of his body slide closer to me, I sigh in relief. Then his arms wrap around me, and he holds me close.
“Is this a good hug?” he asks gruffly.
“I give it an 8 out of 10,” I answer.
“What would make it a 10 out of 10?” he asks.
A few things cross my mind. But I just say, “If you hadn’t killed the power, and I weren’t freezing to death, I might be able to enjoy this hug a little more.”
“But if I hadn’t killed the power, we might not be hugging at all,” he points out, tightening his h
old on my waist and tucking his chin against my shoulder. “You wouldn’t need me to keep you warm.”
“Did you kill it intentionally?” I ask him.
“No, of course not,” he responds. Then he pauses. “Look, after we get some rest I’ll see if I can take a look at that generator. Maybe I can repair it, or get some more life out of it.”
“Thanks,” I respond. I place my hands on his, and find that his fingers are somewhat cold. Then I smile. “Maybe you’re a mechanic. Or an electrician.”
“Don’t speak to soon,” he responds. “I might not be able to fix it.”
“I think you can do anything,” I say sleepily, snuggling closer to him. When I do this, I discover that not all the parts of Adam are cold. In fact, there is one part that is very warm. It seems that he is enjoying this hug quite a lot. My eyes open wide, looking into the darkness with surprise. Out of instinct, I find myself wriggling closer, just out of curiosity.
To get a clearer picture. Of what he’s packing under those pajamas.
I mean, if Adam fell from the sky just for me, for Christmas, then I would like to know the size of my surprise package. So far, it seems it could be the nicest present that I have ever received from Santa’s Sleigh.
“Eve,” he says gruffly.
“Mmm?” I respond innocently. “I’m just getting warm.”
“I can see that,” he says, sliding his hand over my hip. “So, you know how we just had a date last night, right?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“Well, do you think the original Adam and Eve ever had a date?”
“What? I mean… I guess so.”
“No,” Adam says. “They didn’t have a date—they had an apple.”
There is silence for a moment in the bedroom.
“Get it?” Adam asks. “Because a date is a fruit…”
“I get it,” I say, as I try to hold back my laughter. But the giggles overtake me anyway. And I know I can’t hide it, because his hands are on my body, and he can feel me laughing. “You are ridiculous,” I tell him.
“Do you know the first time a math equation was mentioned in the Bible?” he asks.
“Nope.”
“When God told Adam and Eve to go forth and multiply,” he explains. “Get it? Multiplication.”
I sigh. “Don’t you think it’s a little awkward to talk about multiplication when we’re in bed together like this?”
“Not really,” he answers, his warm breath brushing against my ear. “I think all forms of multiplication are beautiful. And fun. I definitely want to have kids someday soon. What about you?”
“Yes,” I respond, “but not within the next five minutes.”
Adam laughs. “That doesn’t seem like a very reasonable timeline.”
“Maybe if you give me fifteen minutes. I’m joking. That’s a joke,” I say quickly.
Adam is chuckling. “Lucky for you, I think my leg is hurting too much to attempt any sort of multiplication tables tonight.”
“I’m also way too frozen,” I inform him. “I’ve heard about people freezing their eggs, but I think I’ve frozen all my lady parts. I am pretty sure that there are icicles dripping from my fallopian tubes, and that my vagina is frozen shut completely. Like an igloo with no entrance.”
“Well, that’s an attractive visual,” Adam responds. “And surprisingly appetizing. Like, if I could stick your frozen vagina on a cake pop, I bet it would be absolutely delicious.”
I burst out laughing. “I think ovaries are more the shape of a cake pop. You know what? This conversation is getting out of hand. I think we are both delirious with cold, and we need to get some sleep.”
“I agree,” Adam says, caressing his hand over my stomach in a gentle way. “I hope that your body parts have defrosted by the morning.”
“I hope that yours are no longer painful,” I whisper. “Goodnight, Adam.”
“Goodnight, my frozen first lady.”
It’s funny how magical you feel after a good night’s sleep. And it’s even better when you have a pair of strong arms around you. And the warmth of a man pressed against your body, with his faint, comforting masculine scent. I don’t think I’ve slept this well in years. It has been so blissful that I haven’t wanted to move. But when I finally did roll over, I found that Adam adjusted with me, laying on his back so I could rest my head on his shoulder, and wrap my leg around him. Then we slept some more like that, and it was even nicer.
I didn’t know Alaska could feel this warm.
And when his fingers start brushing over my hair, and my arm, it sends tingles soaring across my skin. I didn’t know being without power could feel so electric.
Without realizing it, I find myself sliding my hand over his chest. Feeling the ridges, dips and valleys.
“Eve?” Adam says huskily. “You’re good sleeping company.”
“You’re good everything company,” I tell him, drawing circles on his chest.
He clears his throat. “I kind of really want to kiss you, Eve. Would that be—”
I don’t wait for him to finish before I lift myself up on my elbow and press my lips against his. His mouth softens against mine as he kisses back, lifting both his hands to my waist to reposition my body on top of his, until I find myself straddling his swollen heat.
Our kiss grows deeper and more intense as I place my hands in his hair, and his hands slide down to cup my bottom. His thin pajamas leave nothing to the imagination as I sit directly on his erection, and rub myself against him.
He groans at my motions. “Not so frozen anymore, are you?” he asks.
“Not even a little bit,” I respond, kissing his neck and nipping at his ear.
“Good,” he responds, pulling at the strings of my robe and sliding it off my shoulders.
I help him shrug it off, so that I am wearing just my nightgown. His hands go to my breasts at once, fondling and kneading them gently—like he definitely knows what to do with breasts. I moan as it begins to feel like there is molten lava running through my center, and pooling between my thighs.
“Take this off too,” he instructs, tugging at the neckline of my nightgown.
I slide it off my shoulders to reveal my naked chest, and he breathes in slowly, with appreciation.
“You’re perfect,” he says, before raising himself up so he can capture my breast in his mouth. And that’s pretty much it for me. The sensitive nerve endings are so overwhelmed with pleasure that my head tilts back, and I moan with abandon.
I am no longer capable of rational thought—I am lost in the sensations, and my whole body feels alive with need. I reach for the buttons of Adam’s pajamas, and begin fumbling with them madly as he sucks on my nipple.
“You taste so good,” he says with a groan, letting me take off his shirt before sliding a hand down into my panties. He rubs me gently through the fabric until I moan and press harder against his hand. Then he slips his hand inside my panties, and strokes his fingers across my opening and clit. “You’re so wet,” he whispers.
“Adam,” I say softly, as my hips move without my permission to seek more friction. He obediently begins to rub my sensitive nub, and my head rolls back again. I gasp softly at the pleasure. “Is your leg okay?” I whisper. “Will it cause you too much pain, if we…?”
“I’m fine,” he responds, kissing me hungrily while he slips a finger between my wet folds. He pulses his finger inside me, spreading my wetness around my clit in a teasing way. “Do you mind being on top?”
“I really… do not mind at all,” I say breathlessly, sliding my own hand into his pants to wrap my fist around his erection. “I want you so much.”
“Me too,” he says with a sharp intake of breath as I stroke him. “Oh my god, Eve.”
Hearing the pleasure in his voice makes me feel powerful. I feel like we are heating up this cabin more than the fireplace, and I wouldn’t be surprised if all the snow on the roof is melting.
“Oh, fuck my leg,” he says, pulling his
hand out of my underwear and picking me up and tossing me down on the bed beside him. He slides off his pajama pants and boxers before positioning himself over top of me, and hiking up my nightgown. “Is this okay?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say, lifting my hips toward him and begging for it with my body. I wrap a leg around him. “Please—if you’re sure your leg doesn’t hurt too much.”
“This is worth the pain,” he assures me. “Do you have something?”
“What?” I say with confusion.
“Like maybe in your nightstand?”
I look over at my nightstand, confused about what that boring piece of furniture has to do with this gorgeous man who is on top of me, about to slide his gorgeous cock into me for endless amounts of pleasure. Then understanding pierces the brain fog of my arousal.
A condom. Shit. I don’t have a condom.
I turn back at Adam, and he is looking at me expectantly. I don’t really know what to say. My body is so hot and bothered and fired up that I can think of a lot of things to say, and none of them are anywhere close to stop. I just want to tell him to keep going. I want to suggest that he can pull out. But I’m all tongue tied. I am dragging his body closer to me with my leg, without really intending to, and I’m afraid that if I don’t say something soon, he’s just going to think I’m on the pill or something.
But then my phone rings.
Chapter Eight
We both turn to look at the nightstand.
Turns out, there was something useful there.
The phone keeps ringing, loudly and annoyingly.
It saves my life in this moment. Or at least saves my uterus.
“That could be important,” I say, darting out from underneath Adam with great dexterity, and grabbing the phone. “It’s my mother,” I explain, pulling the nightgown up and back over my chest and arms, as if my mother will somehow be able to tell I was topless through the voice call.
When I answer, I also turn around so that I’m not looking at Adam’s naked body.