His finger traced languid circles on my skin, the sensation sending shivers down my spine. We sat in silence, our bodies entwined, cocooned in a quilt that did little to stave off the cold seeping through the small tent. It had been ten minutes—ten endless, blissful minutes—since he’d pulled me into his lap, his bare chest pressed against my bare back. The warmth of his body was intoxicating, a stark contrast to the chill outside.