Under the Northern Lights(44)

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Michael scooted out of the hole. Looking up at me, he nodded at the opening. “I think it’s big enough for both of us. Go ahead, but try not to touch any of the walls. You might accidentally break through.”

Hoping against hope that this actually worked, I slid into the slim circle. There wasn’t a lot of room in the tiny cave or a lot of light. But it was protected from the wind and the snow and noticeably warmer. I pressed myself to the side to make room for Michael, being careful to not puncture anything. When he began scooting inside, I wasn’t sure how we’d both possibly fit. I was already curled into a tight ball. But Michael managed to squeeze into the space beside me. Every inch of us was touching, though, and for us to both fit, we had to tangle our legs and lean against each other’s torsos. We were cuddling for survival, and even though I was scared and feeling extremely claustrophobic, being this close to Michael was comforting.

Taking off his gloves, Michael grabbed my hand. It was dark in the cave, but I could make out his outline clearly enough. He gave me a small, warm smile. “It’s going to be okay. It will probably blow over enough by the morning that I’ll be able to tell where we are.”

I nodded, then pressed my head against his shoulder. As I watched snow cover the opening where we’d entered this tiny sanctuary, Michael rubbed his thumb over my glove. Adjusting my position, I removed my glove so I could feel our skin press together. I needed the contact and the reassurance that came with it. Michael let out a sigh that was strangely relaxed, then laid his head against mine. Our little space was so warm that I was no longer shivering. In fact, I almost felt too warm, but there wasn’t enough room to start removing clothing, so I just dealt with it.

Pulling back, I looked up at Michael with a smile. “You were right about the cave. I’m actually getting hot.”

Michael returned my grin. “Yeah, our body heat has a lot to do with that. I’m sorry I couldn’t make the cave a little bigger. I didn’t want to risk the walls caving in.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “Cozy even. I think we should consider moving here.”

He laughed, and the sound evaporated the rest of my anxiety. “Sure, if you don’t mind moving again in the spring when the snow melts.”

Considering the fact that I was moving in the spring—moving home—his joke struck a nerve of sadness. “Yeah . . . spring . . .”

His smile fell, and melancholy settled around us just as surely as the snow above was settling on the earth. Our gazes locked as I wondered what I could possibly say to this man. How could I convince him to leave? And how could I be okay with him staying? He’d die out here all alone. Maybe not right away, but eventually. Leaving without him felt like his death sentence, and I just couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to him. My vision grew hazy as I contemplated that very real possibility.

Michael sighed as he searched my face. “Are you still scared?”

“Only of leaving you,” I whispered. I bit my lip after I’d said it. I hadn’t meant to confess that, hadn’t meant to bring up the conversation that we were both avoiding.

As his pale eyes continued examining my face, his hand tentatively reached up to touch my cheek; his fingers were surprisingly warm, and I closed my eyes at the wondrous contact.

“I wish this were easier,” he whispered.

Reopening my eyes, I saw the confusion on his face. “Wish what were easier?” I asked, my heart fluttering in my chest.

Instead of directly answering my question, he said, “I wish I didn’t feel . . . this . . . for you . . . when I know I shouldn’t.” His gaze drifted down to my lips. “I’m still in love with my wife, and you . . . you’re going home. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t stop wanting . . .”

As his thought drifted off, he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth. My heart was racing now, and all I could think about was his mouth on mine again. I leaned forward into the darkness, hoping I would find his lips, warm and responsive. Like him, I knew it was wrong . . . for both of us . . . but I couldn’t stop myself from wanting it too.

When I felt his breath against my lips, faster than before, his hand on my cheek shifted to my neck. I thought he might push me away, but he didn’t. He pulled me into him. He wanted me, wanted this, possibly just as badly as he didn’t want it. Our mouths met in the darkness, and an explosion of sensation struck me. The heat, the enclosed space, knowing that there was no place for us to go—no escape—it amplified everything inside me, made the kiss feel like a thousand sparklers were igniting inside my body.

The kiss intensified, and nothing was going to stop it this time. Not ghosts of the past, not the bleakness of the future. All we had was this moment, and as my hand reached up to cup his face, I felt something crack inside me. Walls I hadn’t even known I’d been erecting were crumbling to pieces, shattering into oblivion, and all I was left with was . . . feeling, emotion . . . love. I cared for this man more than I wanted to admit, and broken and bruised as he was, I desperately wanted him to care about me too.

As the passion tapered off and our kiss dwindled to soft pecks, I waited for him to tell me what a mistake he was making. The fear of his rejection tightened my throat, and I couldn’t speak; I could only search his eyes in between light kisses and pray that he wouldn’t hurt me. All I saw in his expression, though, was confusion and desire and something else, something stronger than interest. He cared about me—I could see it.