We sat like that for a long time, my head resting on his shoulder. Then he lifted me and rearranged us, so that he was sitting lengthwise on the bench, half-reclining with his backpack as a pillow, and me lying on top of him. Outside, the wind had picked up and we could hear it blowing snow against the walls. But inside, with my head cradled on his chest, I was warmly snug and more secure than I’d ever felt. I closed my eyes…and slept.

44. Danny

44

DANNY

I’d slept half-sitting on a wooden bench with my backpack as a pillow yet somehow, when the dawn light coming through the cracks in the walls woke me, I’d had the best night’s sleep of my life. I looked down at Erin, dozing on top of me, and knew why. Sleep had never felt like that with any of the other women I’d slept with. Maybe I’d never fully relaxed with them.

The sex had been incredible, too. Just the memory of her bouncing on top of me made my cock rise. It had never been that good. Even with Elodie, in Paris, and she’d done things that even I’d thought were kinky.

I stroked Erin’s hair and felt my chest tighten. Maybe it was because I hadn’t cared about the others.

Erin mumbled something and started to slowly come awake. I watched as she frowned, grumbled, and put her glasses on. She was extra adorable when she was sleepy. She finally managed to blink herself awake and focus, then looked up at me. “Hi,” she said shyly.

I ran my hand over her naked back. “Hi yourself.”

She looked around the hut and I could sense everything sinking in. What we’d done. I felt her tense against me, her breath tightening. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

She put her head down on my chest and stared at the stove. “I just…” She paused. Took a deep breath, then another. “I want you to know that if that was just a one-night thing, that that’s okay. I mean, I’ll be okay.”

I took her chin in my hands and gently made her face me. She looked me in the eye, her jaw set, determined to convince me. But I could see the fear in her eyes. “No,” I said firmly. “No, it wouldn’t be okay. And it wasn’t just a one night thing.” I went to tell her how I felt about her: happy and bonded and, oddly, secure, like I could trust her with anything. But I couldn’t figure out the words. That threw me. This was me, talking to women was what I did. So why was saying this so hard?

Maybe because, for once, it wasn’t just jokes and flirting. It meant something.