Chapter 38
Chapter 38
It’s not that she didn’t trust Declan. He might be an asshole, but he was an asshole with principles. The problem was, Tessa didn’t trust herself. She still hadn’t forgotten how the heat of his touch rolled through her like an explosion. She couldn’t forget the way he’d grabbed her in the hallway and pressed his face into her neck, and just inhaled–like he wanted to breathe her in and savor her. Like he needed to.
But she also couldn’t forget the cutting things he said every time she’d initiated something. He didn’t like her. Didn’t trust her. Tessa was unbearably attracted to him, and it hurt that he was so repulsed by her very existence. To share a sleeping bag with him, to have their bodies pressed together, knowing he loathed every minute of it, might be more than she could bear.
But what could she do? Declan was right. Her only other option was to freeze to death.
“Alright…” she said uncertainly, not able to look him in the eye. “How are we going to do this p>
Declan took off his jacket and spread it across one of the lower bunks. “Lay your jacket out. It’s not much, but it’ll pad the platform a
little bit p>
She did as he said, then stood shivering as she watched him roll out the sleeping bag.
“Take your boots off, but keep the liners on.” He did the same, and then he unzipped the sleeping bag. “Alright then. Get in p>
She hesitated for a second.
Chapter 38
“Tessa, it’s fucking cold p>
Like Joan of Arc going to the stake, she crawled onto the bunk and into the sleeping bag. Declan turned the flashlight off, plunging the cabin into total darkness. The wind seemed to grow louder in the darkness, howling and raging as the cabin’s walls groaned under its
assault.
The plywood bunk creaked as Declan sat down on the edge. The
sleeping bag rustled as he found the opening. The plywood creaked
again as he moved closer. He slid his legs in beside hers and then
shimmied his big body in next to her. He was clearly trying to
position himself with the least amount of intimate touching, which
only made things worse. She’d rather have him accidentally touch
her boobs than have to deal with the humiliation of him trying so
hard not to.
Eventually, he seemed to conclude that no amount of maneuvering would prevent them from being glued together. With an impatient sound, he wrapped an arm around Tessa’s waist and pulled her back tightly against his chest. The intimacy of it paralyzed her.
“Zipper the bag,” Declan prompted.
His no–nonsense tone jarred Tessa back into motion, and she pulled the zipper up, sealing them in together. Declan’s touch seared her as it always did, blooming a decadent warmth beneath her skin that sank all the way into her bones. She wanted to relax, to curl into his luxurious heat, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she lay as stiff as a pole, with her arms crossed over her chest and breathing as shallowly as possible so that her body wouldn’t move at all against Declan’s.
“So what’d you do to the truck?” Declan asked. His mouth was so close to her ear, she felt the heat of his breath.
“I was driving it. The way they’re meant to be used.” Tessa couldn’t bring herself to tell him she’d run out of gas. He’d find out
Chapter 38
eventually, but she intended to never have a conversation with him
about it.
“Anthony Daaldinh rebuilt that engine,” Declan said. “He’s the best there is. If something went wrong, it’s because of operator error. Do you even know how to drive stick p>
Tessa may have blacked out for a split–second, out of pure murderous rage. “No, I’ve just been making my best guess all this time,” she snapped. Her first car had been a manual, and she’d driven that beast for ten years. She’d started driving tractors, skid–steers, and combines at a dangerously young age on her grandparents‘ farm. And up until Grandpa died and the farm was sold, she’d still been driving them every time she went back for a visit. Growing up, her dad had always had ancient snowmobiles and
Frankensteined dirt bikes to tool around on. She could drive
anything on wheels or a track. She was pretty sure she could figure
out how to drive a tank if the need ever arose.
“Does your best guess‘ include fueling it up every once in a while p>
Fuck. He knew.
♡ (5)
Cedella
Cedella is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a flair for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cedella’s storytelling style is immersive and addictive—perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.