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that lingered far from the radiators… His hands nearly trembled with the need to caress those breasts, to slide his thumbs gently over her nipples, teasing them harder—
    He opened his eyes again and tried to focus on the task at hand—not an easy accomplishment by any means. Closing his eyes had only made the fantasy worse. He shifted his stance, aware there was suddenly far less space in his jeans than there had been before he’d started envisioning her nude. Imagining how it would feel to touch her. To taste her.
    He clenched his teeth. Stop. Now.
    Carol hurried down the stairs, quickly padding barefoot along the wood floors. Her hair was wrapped up in a blue towel and she wore a purple bathrobe. She hissed and started to walk on the balls of her feet. Her calves bunched, and the sight of the smooth skin made him have to look away quickly and grit his teeth to stifle a groan. The desire to run his hands along those curves was almost too much to handle.
    “The floor is like ice,” she said as she hurried through the kitchen.
    He took a deep breath and through sheer willpower managed to get a hold of himself. Not figuratively. He winced, and then quickly covered with a smile. His voice boomed out, perhaps a bit too cheerful to sound normal.
    “If I ever lose another bet, maybe I’ll have to fetch my lady’s slippers. Until then…” He grinned wider, but was very careful not to glance at the display of cleavage where her robe came together. That smooth curve of breast barely glimpsed… This time he did groan. Quietly.
    “You feeling all right?” she asked, her expression concerned.
    “A little warm is all.” When she stared at him dubiously, he nodded toward the stove. “Slaving over a fire, you understand.”
    She snorted and glanced at the hot chocolate mugs. “Smells great. I’ll be right back. Jeans in the dryer.”
    Her scent flooded his nostrils as she moved past him. Strawberries. Some type of melon. Other scents he couldn’t identify, but that were oh so interesting. He didn’t know if it were shampoo or perfume or some kind of body wash, but he had to force himself not to crane his neck, trying to catch more of that scent as she went by. He found himself looking forward to the next time she would walk past him, reminding the core primal male in him that she might be tough as nails, but she was also a very desirable female. He shifted his weight again, uncomfortably aware of the tightening in his groin, the heaviness in his cock as he grew hard.
    Carol swept through the kitchen again carrying clothing, tempting parts of her jiggling as she stepped lively on the cold floor. “Back in a second!” she called to him with a grin.
    He kept his smile and managed not to ogle her as she ascended the stairs. He clenched his fists, staring at the steaming mugs. He couldn’t do this. Not with all this up in the air between them. Not with how he felt about her, which was clear enough because she couldn’t even walk through the kitchen without his cock acting up, headstrong as an unbroken stallion. Now that he knew she was safe, it was time for him to get gone.
    He quickly set the hot chocolate mug at her place at the table, neatly arranged with a spoon and a napkin. Good enough. Then he juggled his own mug while struggling into his boots and wet coat. He sloshed hot chocolate over his hand and sleeve. He grunted a curse, frowning at the red burn along the top of his hand that pulsed with pain. The pain cleared his head though, and for that he was grateful.
    The wind tried to hold the door shut against him. He gave it a shove, and turned away from a gust full of ice crystals that blew into his face. Quietly, he closed the door behind him, and just as quietly, forged his way out into the snow, stomping toward his trailer. The hot chocolate steamed from the mug. He sipped it, reveling in the warmth, but after a moment he turned the mug and dumped it out.
    Without Carol, it tasted bitter, and it was already