Peter Clifford had mastered the art of making smores during a 6-month summer holiday placement at Camp Amicus outside of Alberta. As a group leader, the then, newly qualified curate was put in charge of all off-site camping. Naturally, fire-building and smores-making became almost second nature to the young Priest following 'at least fifty excursions' to the foothills of the Rocky mountains.

"So that's how you became such an Alpha Male?" Assumpta asked sarcastically, gesturing to the diminishing flames.

"Pipe down, you," he retorted, his mouth full of melted marshmallow. "If it were left to you we'd have burnt noodles and no heat whatsoever."

Assumpta crouched forward on the rug where they sat and took Peter's hand with her own. Eyeing the remnants of gooey confectionary on his thumb, she ran her tongue slowly along the underside of his digit, keeping her eyes in his expectant gaze for the entire time as her mouth closed firmly around it.

"I'd say we'd have heat, don't you think?"

Peter swallowed nervously. "I'd say so…"

They had played this game all evening. Still 'dressed' only in the curate's oversized shirt, Assumpta made a good show of not feeling the cold. Instead she'd coaxed and cajoled him. Making flirty suggestions and double-entendres one minute, while playing hard-to-get the next.

She was tormenting him and what's more, she was taking pleasure from it. Her eyes danced with delight when she caught Peter staring longingly down the neckline of her ever-loosening shirt. She'd positively gleamed when she overheard her companion take laboured breaths as he hunched anxiously over the sideboard under the guise of replenishing their drinks.

Part of him wanted to wipe that self-satisfied smile from her face with his mouth. Take her roughly by the warmth of the smouldering embers; show her just how much of an Alpha Male he could be.

But the other part – the more cerebral part – begged Peter to be patient. Despite the supposed respite the Church had awarded him this week, he didn't want to flout his vows so readily. No, he decided. As much as Assumpta taunted him, Peter would not give in to temptation. He would not succumb to the now painfully apparent physical manifestation of his desire. He would not let her win.

Of course, this went completely out of the window when Assumpta opened her mouth next.

"So as a seasoned camper, you'll know that the only way to keep truly warm when faced with the elements is to climb naked into a sleeping bag with someone else who is also naked…"

From her slurred speech, it was clear that she was already feeling the effects from the two bottles of Italian red they'd imbibed.

"Well, it's a pity it's hailing rainwater and not sleeping bags outside or you might just have got lucky."

But his companion didn't return his mirth. The mood had suddenly shifted. Capturing his gaze with her own, Assumpta heard herself ask, unexpectedly, "Why does this have to be so difficult, Peter."

"You what?"

"Us. This." Assumpta tried to align her hastily forming thoughts. "If what you said earlier is true, what more is there to think about?"

Peter's perplexed expression encouraged her to continue. Taking a deep breath for courage, she finally asked him, "If you're no longer in love with being a Priest, then why do it? Why give up so much for something you no longer even believe?"

"Now, I didn't actually say that I didn't believe – " he protested. "I just – it's just…"

"What?"

Peter shrugged helplessly. "This is all I've ever known."

Assumpta considered her next words carefully. Tracing her thumb along the back of his hand, she told him, "There's so much more to know, Peter."

The air was thick between them. The fire was crackling its final embers. Time was running out for Peter and Assumpta and they both knew it. Soon, the cold would force them to abandon the lounge completely and retire upstairs to bed. The question of whose bed the curate would be retreating to was still agonizingly unclear.

Peter looked deeply into his companion's eyes – so deeply, it unnerved Assumpta – and ran the back of his free hand along the line of her face. He was about to speak. His mouth even began to form the outline of a word – a word that as it hung there, unheard and as yet, unsaid, held so much promise and anticipation.

But then, everything unravelled. A sound emanating from the hallway broke the charged silence. Peter jolted back, taking his outstretched hand with him, while Assumpta turned her eyes to the impossibly beautiful, statuesque blonde approaching the door way.

"Peter?" the intruder observed with incredulity. "What are you doing here?" Almost immediately the woman's eyes fell critically on Assumpta. "And who, may I ask, is this."

As if on cue, the last ember of the fire burnt out, its flame extinguished indefinitely.

A/N Bit of a short chapter this time around but you know how much I love my cliffhangers! Thanks to everyone who is still keeping up with this story and leaving such amazing feedback. Hopefully I won't be so delayed with my next update!