“Saw that, huh?” Gunnar looked behind him, then adjusted his coat.
“I thought for sure I was about to chase down another runaway team.”
She pulled her goggles and face covering off, her smile so wide and beautiful Gunnar wanted to close the distance between them and kiss her until they both were out of breath. Making out in the freezing cold was a stupid thought. Not only would there be the potential for snot—the Arctic made one’s nose run like a faucet—but their mouths would probably freeze together. He took a deep breath and tightened his hold on the handlebar.
“You okay, then?” He had to ask, make sure she wasn’t hurt.
“Yeah. Just dangled over open water for a bit before Loki decided to stop being a lug and pull.”
Julie shrugged like almost drowning in ice cold water wasn’t a big deal, but her words hit Gunnar in the chest like a sledgehammer. He’d almost lost her—again.
He slammed his snowhook into the ground, pushed his goggles up, and stalked the four feet separating them. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t draw back. Stopping so the toes of their boots touched, he pulled one mitten off and gently touched the back of his fingers to her chapped cheek.
“I’m glad you’re safe.” He trailed his fingers along her jaw and down her neck.
She grabbed the front of his coat and closed the distance. Her soft kiss burst the embers to a flame that had never extinguished, though he had buried them deep. Her cold lips were rough against his own cracked ones. His fingers warmed as he slid his hand into her hood to cup her head. He rubbed the length of her neck with his thumb, and she shivered.
They really shouldn’t be kissing. Mason would need an evac, and their expedition had failed. Gunnar would have plenty of time to kiss her now that they would head back to Alaska. He would make sure of that. But, with her arm anchored around his back and a soft moan rising from her throat, a polar bear would have to come and drag him away to get him to stop.