Shelby rolled over for what had to have been the zillionth time in the past hour, trying to find a position that was comfortable enough for her to finally fall asleep.

She closed her eyes, trying to think of only peaceful and soothing thoughts. But after a few minutes, Shelby’s eyes sprang back open and she flopped over on her back with a sigh.

It was no use; she just couldn’t sleep.

The problem wasn't that the bed was uncomfortable, or that she’d had too much caffeine before bedtime—though she wished it was something so simplistic.

No, the problem was lying on the couch in the living room less than fifty feet away from her, probably sleeping like a rock.

Shelby sighed again as she stared up at the bedroom ceiling, thinking of Wolfe.

He’s all I seem to think about anymore, she thought grudgingly. Him, and that damn kiss.

Just thinking the word had Shelby conjuring up memories of how it felt to have his arms around her, her fingers twisted in his hair. How the shadow of his unshaved beard rasped against her bare skin as he brought his face down to hers.

And how his hot tongue had delved against her own, flicking expertly around her mouth as if it belonged to him.

The kiss had been short, but intense. That much was certain.

Shelby felt her cheeks heat in embarrassment as she recalled how she’d been so caught up in the moment, that she’d been willing to let Wolfe take her right there in the middle of the forest, the snow and cold be damned.

That was, until Wolfe had stopped her.

Shelby groaned, throwing an arm over her face as if she could hide from her own shame.

Three days had come and gone since then, and Shelby had nothing to show for it aside from the near constant ache at her core that even touching herself couldn’t assuage.

It didn’t help that the source of her sexual frustration was trapped inside this cabin with her, unwilling to touch her in any way that wasn’t strictly platonic.

And it all started after that damn kiss!

Neither one of them had brought up the kiss since it happened, which was probably their first mistake.

They had both been quiet for the rest of their walk back to the cabin afterward, Shelby being too mortified about her brazen behavior to make conversation. And Wolfe…

Well, that was just it; Shelby didn’t know why he’d suddenly become so withdrawn. She just knew that it had started sometime after that.

Maybe I’ve been friend-zoned, Shelby thought, bitterly amused. It certainly feels that way.

It was true, in a sense.

Over the past three days, they had gotten to know each other a lot better. They joked around and swapped stories while cooking their meals together or watching TV. They played cards or held competitions to see who was better at catching popcorn in their mouths when it was thrown to them.

Just today, Shelby had hooked up her iHome and had somehow gotten Wolfe to sing along to old country songs with her, all the while teasing each other about who was the worst singer.

They had become good friends, spending most of the waking hours of the day sharing each other’s company, and Shelby could honestly say that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun, with anyone.

But Wolfe still remained distant from her in the way that she wanted him the most. The sexual tension was so palpable between them sometimes that Shelby felt like she might actually choke on it. She just couldn’t tell if Wolfe was oblivious to it, or if he was only pretending he couldn’t feel it, too.

And to make matters worse, the snow was quickly melting away outside.

Which meant her time alone with him was about to run out, sooner rather than later.

“Screw it,” Shelby said out loud, finally giving up on trying to fall asleep as she climbed out of the bed. “Time for some old-fashioned sleep aid.”

She cracked open her bedroom door and listened hard for any sounds, but the rest of the cabin was quiet, save for the gentle popping and snapping of the fire.

Shelby slid silently out the door and crept slowly down the hall, taking care not to make the wooden floorboards creak too loudly, so as not to disturb Wolfe.

Her efforts were wasted however, seeing as how he was already awake. Shelby had made it halfway across the living room, heading for the kitchen, when he finally spoke up.

“You couldn’t sleep either, huh?” he said, nearly making Shelby jump out of her skin.

She spun around, hand pressed against her heart as she watched him sit up from where he’d been lying on the couch. He was backlit by the fire, so all she could see of him was his dark silhouette.

“Jesus, Wolfe, you scared me half to death,” she scolded, but then she sighed. “I thought you were asleep.”

He just shook his head, shifting around to put his feet on the floor as he stood.

“Well, you might as well join me for a nightcap then,” she said, making them both wince momentarily at the sudden brightness as she flipped on the kitchen light.

Wolfe nodded, padding over to stand by her as he gave her a sleepy smile.

“Sounds good,” he said, followed by a yawn. “What do ya got?”

Shelby stared at him for a beat longer than what was strictly socially acceptable.

He was just so damn sexy like this, what with his dark hair all mussed and his bare feet peeking out from beneath the flannel pajama pants he was wearing. Shelby finally forced herself to look away when he lifted his arms over his head in a languid stretch, his muscles rippling deliciously and his t-shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of taut skin and the little smattering of hair that was his happy trail.

Shelby quickly busied herself with locating the booze, uncertain which cabinet she had stored it in when she’d originally put her groceries away a few days ago. She located it on her third try, after opening the one above the stove.

“Uh, some Jack Daniel’s?” she said, taking down the amber bottle and offering it out to him.

He took it from her, nodding appreciatively.

“Are there any shot glasses?” he asked, taking a seat at the breakfast bar.

Shelby shook her head, opening a different set of cabinets that housed all the cabin’s dishes.

“No shot glasses,” she said, standing on her tiptoes as she reached for the topmost shelf. “But we have mugs,” she countered, taking two of them down and holding them out for his inspection. “You can either have Santa or Snoopy.”

“Give me Santa,” he said after a moment of deliberation. “It is Christmas Eve tomorrow, after all. Or I guess, today,” he amended quickly, having caught sight of the time on the digital clock on the stove.

“Really?” Shelby asked, handing him his mug. “I had no idea,” she said, pulling one of the barstools around in to the kitchen so that she could sit across from him.

“Yep,” Wolfe said, cracking the seal on the whiskey before unscrewing the top.

“Do you want one finger or two?” he asked, bottle poised over her mug as he waited for her answer.

“Better make it two,” she said, not even having to think about it. “This girl can handle her liquor.”

“Is that so?” he mused, pouring her drink first before filling his own mug. “Care to play a little drinking game then?”

Shelby was all too eager to rise to his challenge.

“Sure,” she said easily, before a sudden idea struck her and she gave him a sly smile. “But I get to pick the game.”

Wolfe just rolled his eyes, used to her antics at this point.

“Of course,” he conceded with a smirk, making Shelby think back to how he had said the same thing after agreeing to play their first game together.

Their eyes locked, and Shelby felt that all-too-familiar tension form between them when neither one of them opted to look away first.

Prepare to tell me what’s been going on inside that head of yours, mountain man, she thought conspiratorially to herself.

But out loud, she just said, “Great. Because the game is Truth or Dare, my friend. And you’re about to lose, big time.”