Page 81 of Forbidden to Fall

Unfortunately, the cold of the ground seeped through the sleeping bag enough to send a little chill through me at that precise moment.

He reached for his pillow.

“No,” I said.

He stopped and looked at me again.

I turned onto my right side and rested my head on my bent arm, insulating it from the cold—but also depriving my arm and hand of the warmth of the sleeping bag.

To my surprise and relief, James lay back down.

I smiled, but disappointment settled into the pit of my stomach. I’d kind of hoped he’d up the ante somehow—try to force me to use his pillow or something.

My entire mat suddenly slid sideways, bringing me right up against him and sending my heart into my throat. He let go of the mat, then slid his arm under my shoulders so that the only place for my head to rest was on his arm.

It was a really nice arm. Better than my pillow had been.

“Now we’ll both be warm,” he said.

“Good.”

“Good.”

He’d been right. Warmth was already trickling from his body to mine, a blissful energy exchange.

I resisted the impulse to turn my entire body into his. My muscles were tight, wound up like a clock. The more the seconds passed and the warmer I got, though, the more those muscles relaxed, and the more sleep began to beckon.

James’s shoulder suddenly rolled upward, nudging my head from his biceps to the spot between his shoulder and chest. It was a perfect pocket—and it put us…close.

“Sorry,” he said in a dozy voice. “My arm was falling asleep.”

“Because of my gigantic head.”

He gave a sleepy chuckle. “Your head is perfect.”

The man was only half-conscious. Best not to read too much into his opinion of my head.

On some level, I was aware that this situation was unwise and I should extricate myself from the sublime cocoon of James’s body—maybe even go home.

Slowly, I lifted my chin to steal a glance at him.

His eyes were closed, and his breath was even, like he was already dropping off to sleep.

If I left now, I’d disturb that sleep, not to mention subjecting myself to the cold night air.

I settled my head back into the spot between his shoulder and his chest, feeling him shift in response until his mouth pressed into the hair above my temple.

With each exhale, a surge of breath warmed my head. My left arm was tucked against my chest, but it itched to settle over his, the position my body insisted would be most comfortable.

The realization that I’d gotten myself into a situation I not only didn’t know how to get out of but didn’t want to get out of crept over me.

Ryan had been right.

I’d never grown out of my feelings for James. They’d been dormant for years, but his return and the time we’d been spending together had awakened them, and like a bear rousing in the spring, they were ravenous.

I couldn’t get enough of James.

“You are warm,” he said in a sleepy voice.