Listed: Volume IV (7 page)

It
looked increasingly like it might rain, so they put the grill and other
supplies back into the rented SUV they were driving, so they wouldn't get wet
overnight. It got dark earlier than they were used to, so it was only eight
o'clock when they went over to the public washroom and shower facilities to get
ready for bed, since neither one of them were particularly interested in
primitive camping. Emily put on a sweatshirt and flannel pajama pants to sleep
in because the temperature was dropping rapidly.

It
started to sprinkle on their way back, but Emily made it into their very
expensive two-room tent without getting too wet. They’d set up the
self-inflating air mattress made for camping and the rest of the bedding in the
tent earlier, and she happily puttered around, organizing various supplies they
might need during the night and zipping up one of the screened vents they'd
left open earlier.

Paul,
however, had stopped by the back of the SUV to grab a small cooler of bottled water,
since Emily was afraid she’d get thirsty before morning.

He
got caught in the sudden downpour and was drenched by the time he reached the
tent.

“Damn,”
he muttered, leaning over to get in through the flap and then fastening it
tightly behind him. “It couldn’t have waited two more minutes?”

Emily
couldn’t help but snicker, although she was sure she wouldn’t have found it
funny had she been the one getting drenched. When he gave her a peeved look,
she smiled at him apologetically and handed him a towel she’d had the foresight
to bring into the tent earlier.

Paul
wiped the water off his hair and face and then took off his soaked t-shirt so
he could dry off his damp chest too.

She
looked on with interest, admiring the strong, graceful muscle tone of his chest,
arms, and abdomen.  It was very dark outside, and the room of the tent was lit
only by the light of two lanterns. It cast odd but strangely compelling shadows
on Paul's body.

When
he caught her looking at him, she gave him a bright smile. “Sorry you got so
wet.”

“It’s
fine.” He reached over toward the stack of his neatly folded clothes in a
corner of the tent. “What’s a little water?”

Emily
listened to the rain pound on the tent above her as she watched Paul pull on a
dry black t-shirt. “It sounds like a lot of water. I guess we’ll see how well
your luxury tent holds up.”

“
Your
luxury tent. It was your birthday present.”

She
reached over and grabbed a sweatshirt to hand to him. “You should wear this. It
already feels kind of cold out, and it will just get colder with the rain.”

He
took the sweatshirt and seemed to consider it. Then he shook his head. “I don’t
like to sleep in long sleeves. I’ll put it on later if I’m cold.”

She
started to argue, mostly because camping was her idea and she hated the thought
of his getting too cold, but he was perfectly capable of deciding whether he
needed a sweatshirt or not, so she bit back her automatic objection. He usually
didn’t even sleep with a shirt on, so she supposed he was compromising by
wearing the t-shirt. Instead, she said, “So, seriously, do you think this tent
will hold up to the downpour?”

“It
better. It was marketed as the best—made to use in four seasons and to
withstand any sort of weather.”

He
was wearing the jeans he’d had on all day because, she assumed, he hadn’t
wanted to change into his pajama pants in the public restrooms like she had. He
started to undo the top button of his wet pants but then glanced over at her.

She
smiled again. She supposed she could have gone into the sleeping room of their
tent to give him some privacy, but she didn't really want to. “I’ve seen everything
you’ve got,” she teased. “Don’t be shy on account of me.” She was genuinely
amused by his expression, but she was also trying to cover a little
self-consciousness with irony. There was something oddly personal about
watching him undress in a context that wasn't sexual.

Paul
couldn’t restrain a chuckle as he shucked his wet jeans, a little awkwardly
because of the space limitations in the tent and the wetness of the fabric. He
didn’t take off his underwear, so she assumed they hadn’t gotten wet.

His
long, masculine legs were well worth looking at as he pulled on his pajama
pants.

She
was sitting on a comfortable folding chair, and she accepted the bottle of
water Paul offered her with thanks. She started to take a sip but gasped a
little when a strong gust of wind whipped at the fabric of their tent.

“Seems
to be holding up,” Paul said, pausing to observe the stability of the tent. “If
it fails us, we can sleep in the back of the SUV.”

“That’s
not the same. Camping should take place in a tent.”

"Then
we'll have to trust the tent. Were you ready for bed, or did you want to do
something?"

Emily
reflected for a moment. Sex was obviously off the table because of Paul's mood
that day, and she wasn't feeling particularly inclined in that direction
anyway. She could read. Or she could see if Paul had any ideas for
entertainment. But it was so dark it felt like it should be much later at night
than it was, and she was getting tired. So she concluded, "I think I'll
just go to bed."

She
didn't assume that Paul had to go to bed at the same time, but she was pleased
when he followed her into the second room of the tent without comment.

She
looked in satisfaction at the high-quality air bed, made up temptingly with
pillows, sheets, and queen-sized sleeping bag. She'd never camped very much as
she was growing up, but the few times she had before had been uncomfortable in
a number of ways. These sleeping arrangements didn't seem uncomfortable at all.

She
crawled under the sleeping bag, and Paul got in beside her. She immediately
scooted over to cuddle up against him. That was how they normally fell asleep
now, and the rain and dark night made her want to snuggle even more than usual.
She sighed with pleasure when he wrapped his arms around her.

“If
you get too cold, we can’t stay out here. I’m not going to risk your getting
sick.”

“I’m
not going to get sick. I feel perfectly warm right now.” She did. Paul’s body
always generated wonderful heat, and the sleeping bag was the kind that was
supposed to be good for sub-zero temperatures. The tent was supposed to hold in
heat too, so she figured they were protected on all fronts.

The
sheets of rain pounding down on the tent were unsettling, even though the tent
itself never leaked. She could smell the outdoors, the dirt, the rain, and she
jerked in surprise every time a gust of wind blew violently against their tent.

“You
okay?” Paul asked, after a few minutes in silence. He’d turned off the lanterns
and they were surrounded now by nothing but pitch darkness.

“Yeah.
It’s a little strange, since I’ve never really been a camping person, and I'm
not used to it. Even in the tent, I feel a little…exposed. But it’s kind of
cool really, as long as the tent doesn’t collapse.”

“If
it collapses, someone is going to hear about it.”

She
laughed softly at his dry voice in the darkness. "Like everyone heard it
from you today?"

"Yeah,"
Paul muttered. He shifted slightly. "Sorry about that."

"That's
okay. Everyone gets in a bad mood occasionally. Even me."

Paul's
huff of amusement blew gently against her hair. "That I can believe."

She
liked the fondness in his voice, even though she couldn't see his face. She
burrowed against his heat, loving the feel of his lean, hard body against hers
and the strength of his arms around her. She didn't even mind that he was
wearing a shirt, although she liked his bare chest better.  “It actually would
be kind of nice to sleep out under the stars. I think that’s what I was
imagining when I wrote the list.”

“Maybe
we can tomorrow night. If it’s not raining or too cold. We’ll have plenty of
time to commune with nature tomorrow.”

She
smiled at the thought. “I hope it doesn’t rain all day. That would suck.”

“The
weather report said there were just supposed to be occasional showers this
weekend.”

“Good.”
She shifted against him, feeling cozy but not really sleepy. She supposed this
could have been a romantic moment, cuddled up next to her husband in the middle
of a rainstorm. But she didn’t have any desire to take off her clothes, and in
her baggy sweatshirt and thick pajama pants, she wasn’t feeling remotely sexy.

She
felt very pleasant. But not sexy.

She
adjusted her position again, trying to get used to the feel of the air
mattress. It really wasn’t too bad—certainly much better than sleeping directly
on the ground. It wasn’t like a normal bed, though.

In
the midst of her wriggling, she felt something surprising against her middle.
She shifted against it again experimentally.

Paul’s
breath hitched.

“Oh,”
she said, surprised and oddly gratified by the feel of his obvious arousal
poking into her. She couldn't understand
why
he'd gotten turned on,
since he couldn't see her and she was wearing thick, baggy clothes, but it made
her proud nonetheless. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“I
know you didn’t,” he said, in a slightly aggrieved voice. “But you might
rethink all that squirming next time.”

“I
wasn’t squirming. I was just trying to get comfortable.”

“Either
way…”

Emily
started to feel a little guilty, since she could now sense a visceral tension
in Paul’s body, in addition to the feel of his substantial erection beneath the
soft fabric of his pants. While it was nice to get an ego boost, she didn’t
really want Paul to suffer. “I’m sorry. Is it really frustrating for you, since
you’re in that mood and can’t do anything about it?”

There
was a strangely resonant pause, broken only by the lashing of rain against
their tent. Paul held himself very still as he said, “I’m not in that mood
anymore. If you wanted to, we could have sex.”

“Oh.”
Emily tried to peer at his face, but—even though her eyes had adjusted some to
the deep darkness—it was just too dark to see anything more than the general
shape of his head.

She
was torn. Part of her thought it was crazy—absolutely crazy—to turn down sex
when Paul was offering it. But the other part of her wasn’t really in the mood,
since she hadn’t been expecting it and she was too cozy right now to undress or
get urgent and sweaty.

“We
don’t have to,” he said mildly, evidently reading her hesitation correctly, “if
you’re not in the mood.”

“You
know I really want to have sex with you normally. It’s just kind of cold,” she
explained. “And I’d have to take my clothes off. And I didn’t think we could
today, so I wasn’t—”

“It’s
fine, Emily. Believe it or not, I can make do without sex.”

She
giggled at his irony, but there was something in the words and in his bland
tone that she thought was remarkably sweet. She stretched up in the general
direction of his head. She planted a kiss somewhere in the vicinity of his
lips. It felt like it landed on his chin, so she moved up a little until she
reached his mouth.

He
kissed her back, his tongue gently exploring her lips and then nudging
questioningly into her mouth.

The
kiss was very nice. She reached one hand up to stroke the nape of his neck like
she was learning he really liked. She felt more tender than aroused, but she
enjoyed the sensation of his skillful mouth against hers, his hot, tense body
against her, even with several layers of clothing between them. She loved the
low moan he made into the kiss as she caressed his neck.

It
was the strangest feeling. She’d never understood she could feel this way. She
didn’t feel any pressing desire for an orgasm herself, but something thrilled
inside her at being close to Paul, at pleasing him, at being there for him.

When
he pulled his mouth away, she murmured, feeling strangely shy, “We can. I don’t
mind.”

His
muscles tightened palpably, but his voice was controlled—just a little thick—as
he replied, “No. We’re not going to do it unless you’re in the mood too.”

She
started to argue but decided against it. Instead she leaned over to kiss him
again, missing at first but shifting until she was able to settle her lips
against his once more.

He
responded immediately, one of his arms tightening around her and the other hand
sliding down to cup her bottom, pressing her pelvis gently against his.

Feeling
a surge of pleasure—more emotional than physical—Emily eased her hand in
between their bodies until she found the length of his erection through his
pajama pants. He groaned against her mouth and jerked his hips slightly when
she gently squeezed.

He
tore his mouth away, breathing raggedly. “I’m sorry, baby. If we’re not going
to have sex, we better stop.”

Her
heartbeat had accelerated, and pleasure and tenderness coursed through her. “But
I wanted to do
this
,” she breathed, applying gentle pressure to his
arousal. “Can’t we just do this?”