I don’t know how much more of this I can take. It was his third day of being snowbound, and Henry was going stircrazy. Cabin fever, maybe. Whatever you wanted to call it, he'd come here to escape. To relax. But this? This was like being in enemy territory all over again without any signs of an exit strategy. And Ellie was making it even harder.

Actually, she was making him even harder. There was something about her, and he couldn’t quite pin it down. In so many ways she was the same Ellie he’d always known, and he still caught glimpses of the young girl he’d grown up with. The way just a hint of her gums showed when she laughed, or how she nibbled on her thumbnail when she was enthralled in a book or movie.

And those pre-bed antics, those seeming rituals they’d established since day one were getting even more heated. Did she know what she was doing to him? Was she better at this whole temptress thing than he’d given her credit for?

“Henry,” she said, pulling her bare knees toward her and resting her chin gently on them. “Tell me what your deal is with blondes. I know everyone has a type, of course, but it’s like you’ve got a collection of Barbie doppelgangers you’re going through.”

“How about you tell me why you insist on wearing shorts and tank tops in the middle of a snowstorm? It’s burning up in here!” he teased. Although he really did want to know. Had she actually packed this brigade of tiny shorts and barely-there camisoles for a supposed winter mountain retreat alone?

She shrugged. “I don’t know, I’ve always liked being warm and toasty indoors while it’s freezing outside. Besides,” she added with a smile, “Eli’s the one footing the electricity bill.”

“He might be paying for it, but it’s still not the greenest strategy for the environment.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re one of those,” she said, rolling her eyes and stretching her long legs out on the couch.

“Hey, mind leaving a little room for me?” he asked.

“You have that whole cushion at the end to yourself,” she said. “Besides, you don’t like being so close to the fire anyway. So, are you going to tell me? Or what?”

“About the Barbies?” he asked. “There’s not much to tell. It goes both ways, you know. That type of woman has always come on to me.”

“So, what? You’re innocent in all of this and these blondes are just like pumas ready to pounce all over you?”

“Something like that,” he said, smiling at her.

“I don’t believe you,” she said, thrusting out her lower lip in a fake pout. “Why not a nice brunette? Or, you know, you could go totally wild and go Asian, black, Latina—”

“Redhead?” he asked, squeezing her foot that was pushing against his leg.

“Hey! Knock it off,” she said. “I’m ticklish. Besides, you know what they say about redheads.”

“They’re firecrackers,” he replied, unable to bring himself to end with “in bed.”

“Well, I was going to say that we’re all crazy,” she said, leaning over and taking another sip from her wine glass. “Or that it’s likely that the curtains match the drapes,” she said with a giggle. “One or the other.”

“Thanks for the tip,” he said, grabbing her foot again as it reached the top of his thigh, gliding his thumb along the sole.

“Stop it!” she shrieked.

“Okay, okay. No need to freak out,” he said, reaching over and taking a sip from his own tumbler of whiskey. “So, you never told me. Graduation. Your degree was in… ecology?”

“Biology.”

“Close.”

“Well. I mean, I guess they both end in -ology, but that’s about it.”

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked.

“The plan is to get everyone to stop asking me,” she said, finishing her wine with a big swallow. “I don’t know. I mean, on the one hand, I feel like I should go on to veterinary school. I’ve always loved animals. On the other hand, I don’t know if I could handle making a living out of seeing so many of them suffer—I, you know, vets can’t help them all. And the euthanasia, I don’t know if I could ever handle that well.”

“Yeah. That’s… that’s tough.”

“Then there’s a part of me that thinks maybe I should go into the fundraising sector. I don’t necessarily need a master’s for that, and what with Eli’s position and all, it would be pretty easy to get connected with a nonprofit or NGO right away.”

“But do you really want to utilize Eli for your career?” he asked.

“No. That’s the thing. Oh God, Henry, this conversation is a buzzkill.”

“Sorry,” he said.

“You’re down there anyway. Why don’t you just give me a foot massage instead of random tickling attacks?” she asked, somehow lengthening those long, supple legs even more. “Come on,” she said, wiggling her toes at him.

“As tempting as that is, maybe another time,” he said, gently lifting her feet off of him and getting up. “It’s late. I’m just going to go to bed.”

“Okay, old man,” she said. “Don’t want you turning into a pumpkin.”

For the third night, Henry wrestled with images of Ellie as he lay in bed. A few minutes ago, he'd heard her slip into her own room and quietly close the door. What was she doing now? She was nearly naked each night, traipsing about in those little shorts. She probably sleeps naked.

He could almost see her, nearly feel the heat of her body radiating from the room next door. He knew it was foolish, but couldn’t help but wonder if what they said about redheads was true. Were they really that kind of unbridled wild he’d heard about? Did the fire between her legs really match those long locks falling down her back?

Henry squinted his eyes shut, willing them to see Ellie just on the other side of the wall—alabaster skin a stark contrast to the silky slate gray sheets. She was on her back, hair splayed out and covering the entire pillow, knees bent. He imagined how she’d arch her back and run one hand across her breast, urging the nipple to harden, then skim her hand across the other. Pinching her pink nipples gently, rolling them between her fingers, her other hand would start to inch down.

She’d hover that hand at her mound, teasing herself while she tugged lightly on her nipples at the same time. Slowly, she’d slide one finger into her wet folds, spreading her juices across her clit in careful circles. “Henry,” she’d whisper. She wouldn't be able to help herself. She'd have no need to suck on her fingers to slide with ease between her folds, across her clit or to dip into the warmth of her center—she'd be already nearly dripping with juices because she’d been thinking of him.

In his mind’s eye, he watched her bring herself to climax. And yet, as hard as he was, he still never touched himself.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, images of Ellie coming as she moaned his name gave way to sand. It was all he could see for miles, that red dune sand that had a way of getting everywhere. Whether it was Iraq or Afghanistan, he didn’t know. With every tour, the locations blurred together.

But this time was different. He could feel the weight of his body armor plates covering his torso and the pinch of his tactical boots. The enemy was coming after Ellie and Aunt Mary, and his core strike group was nowhere to be found. It was all up to him.

From his peripheral vision, he spotted a target approaching from the side. Does he really think I don’t see him? Holding still, like a lion before an attack, he waited until the last moment, right when the enemy was within grappling distance. With incredible speed, he turned and pinned him to the ground, using all his strength to hold down the person's arms and disable the enemy's lower body with his sheer weight advantage.

“Henry! Henry, stop! What are you doing?”

It was Ellie. The sand was gone, and as Henry took in the room his perspective was off. How did he get on the ground? And why was Ellie underneath him? Is this what I’ve been longing for?

But, no. Ellie appeared seized with absolute terror. Tears were starting to fill her eyes, but she was too scared to even cry properly. Henry froze, then rolled off of her.

Somewhere, there was the ragged breathing of an animal. Oh God, no, that’s me. Why am I so wet? What’s—

He realized he had sweated completely through his boxers. Beside him, Ellie pushed herself off the floor, wary and shaken. “My God, Ellie. I’m sorry. Are you—are you okay?”

“I’m… I’m fine,” she said, brushing her hands down her thighs. “I think I’m fine. Just… might be a little bruised maybe.”

“I’m so sorry, Ellie.” The guilt he’d felt so many times on tour began to wash over him. He could have hurt her, just like he’d hurt so many in war. Probably more than he’d ever realized.

“No, it’s fine. Really. You warned me not to come in. It’s just… I heard these noises. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Ellie, I told you—”

“You were calling for me! You kept saying ‘Ellie’!”

“I—I was?”

“Yes! That’s why I came in.”

“Look, I’m sorry. But I was asleep. I told you not to come in. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“Henry, is everything—”

“Go back to bed, Ellie.”

“Henry!”

“I said go back to bed,” he said, rising up and guiding her out of his room. She didn’t put up much of a fuss, and as he pushed her lower back gently through the doorway, he was reminded of just how small she was compared to him. If he hadn’t woken up when he did, who knows what he might have done to her.

When he heard her door shut, he grimly pulled out the suitcase hidden in the closet. He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to do this, but never left home without them just in case.

His military grade handcuffs hadn’t been used much on tour. However, they'd still been issued, particularly when he started getting into hostage negotiation territory. A few girlfriends had found them over the years and had nearly begged him to dabble in a little kink. He’d always refused. Henry never could understand why so many people thought restraints were a turn-on. For him, they did nothing but remind him of war and the powerlessness that could come with it.

It was a good thing Eli had furnished the cabin with sprawling beds complete with plenty of posts. Henry dutifully cuffed himself to the bed, tightening them as much as possible without cutting off blood flow. He was well-trained in escape tactics, and couldn’t risk his subconscious making a run for it.

The restraints were uncomfortable, just as they should be. It was another reason he’d never indulged any of his romantic interests with their BDSM fantasies—and probably why so many of the restraints at adult shops were covered in fur. When you got down to the bones of the matter, there was nothing sensual or sexy about steel limiting your movement. But for Henry, especially in this snowbound situation, it might be the only thing that could save him.