It was like bedding down with a rock, assuming the rock was made of lava and had designs on her maidenly virtue. Harrison’s chest was broad and his arms strong, locking her in place so he could once again crush her mouth under his. There was nothing to do but open up and let him in, so that was exactly what she did. He smelled like pine and tasted like the sky—two things she’d never thought could be intoxicating together, but she was wrong.

Because this was right.

Whatever else was happening in the world at this exact moment—wars, crime, a dozen rugged outdoorsman close enough to march by at any moment—didn’t matter. All she cared about was the fact that Harrison’s lips wouldn’t stop moving over hers and that the press of his body wasn’t softening in the slightest. In fact, if she wasn’t mistaken, there was zero softening going on anywhere.

But there was definitely some hardening. Oh, yes. That was a cock, no playful names about it.

It was too cold to do much in the way of disrobing, but Harrison managed to unfailingly find all the exposed patches of her skin. His fingertips moved along the arched slope of her neck, tracing the delicate line of her clavicle as one memorizing a masterpiece. They slipped along the bare skin above her waistline. They even, for one glorious minute, gave in to the urge to travel northward, skimming over her stomach and making a tantalizing approach near her breasts.

She arched in an attempt to get him to reach the urgently tingling tips of her nipples, but Harrison pulled himself away before he got close. He released a sound halfway between a groan and a growl, his large palm not lifting from where it rested against her rib cage. His rough skin attested to all those years of fighting fires, and she could feel the scrape of his calluses against her skin.

It was impossible not to make the leap from there, to imagine the hot, work-hardened fingers slipping into her softest parts, rubbing her body in ways that would scandalize the birds and the bees.

She might have even whimpered. It wasn’t her most elegant moment.

“Well?” Harrison lifted himself away just enough to speak, his words a breath against her lips. “That makes one. What’s your next command?”

Gone were all thoughts of bugs crawling into her jeans or rocks working their way into unseemly places. Sophie could think of only one thing she wanted, the rest of the world be damned.

She wanted him.

“Your hands,” she managed, her words escaping on a gasp. “I want to feel your hands on my bare skin.”

Technically, he was already doing that, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted more.