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She bobs her head, and I'm relieved she's responding. "I'm… I'm… fr-fre-freezing."
"I know." I clasp her hand in mine and shiver at the frozen contact. "We're at the cabin but our horses ran off with all of our supplies. I have some spare clothes you can wear here, but we'll need to get you out of those wet clothes and warm you up."
That seems to sober her up. Her eyes shoot open just enough for her to narrow her gaze at me.
I stomp by her, dig through the top dresser drawer and pull out one of my long shirts and a pair of socks. I thought I'd left pants here, but evidently not. Anything at this point is better than nothing. We have plenty of quilts and blankets in the cabin that will make up for the lack of trousers.
Back in the bathroom, I close the door to allow the steam to fill the space and reach for her. She recoils and growls through chattering teeth, "No."
"Quit being stubborn and let me help you out of these clothes." I furrow my brow. "You'll catch your death, if you don't warm up."
"I'll d-d-do it m-m-myself."
"Don't expend what little energy you have left trying to disrobe." I grab her hand and squeeze, hoping some of my body heat will transfer to her. "You need what strength you have to fight the cold. Please, let me help you out of those clothes."
She chuckles darkly, her bottom lip quivering, "That's one way to see me naked."
"Shaye, this isn't a joke! We need to warm you up – "
"F-f-fine!" she cuts me off with a hiss.
"Fine?" I repeat, making sure I have the go-ahead to claw her out of those wet clothes.
"Yes," she confirms. "H- h- help m-me."
With reverence and extra care, I slip my jacket from her shoulders before peeling her own jacket off. Within a few minutes, I've unknotted her leather, corsair corset, and taken her pants, shirt, socks and boots off. All that is left are her bra and panties which I'm tempted to remove, but refrain. She can keep her modesty and still start to warm up.
I snatch the washcloths I had tossed in the tub and squeeze the excess water out before neatly folding them into rectangles and placing them strategically over her forehead, neck, stomach, and two on the inside of her upper thighs, as close to her groin as possible. Over the next thirty minutes, I replace the used washcloths with new, hotter ones, until her pale, frozen skin turns rosy, only leaving her for a few of those minutes to ignite the fireplace downstairs to heat the rest of the cabin. She looks as if life is breathed back into her, and I finally exhale a sigh of relief. She's going to be alright; I don't have to worry anymore.
She shifts on the floor, and I realize she must be uncomfortable. I offer to help her to the bed so she can rest, and she readily accepts. Her legs are weak, wobbling from the stiffness of the cold, so I scoop her into my arms and carry her into the loft. Thankfully, the fire has heated the cabin, so when I lay her on the bed, she isn't shivering.
I take a step away from her but seeing her lying on the bed I sleep on when I stay here, all I can think about is being tangled up with her all night. I shake those selfish thoughts free, deciding to give her space to get dressed and make her some hot tea.
"Here," I hand her my shirt and socks. "I'll go downstairs and make us some tea. I'm sorry, I don't have any pants here, but the shirt is long enough to… and the socks…" I clear my throat. Why am I getting tongue-tied around her? That's never been a problem for me before. I dart toward the wooden staircase, ready to give her some much-needed privacy, but stop when she cries out, "Wait!"
I whip around to see a sheepish look smeared across her rosy cheeks. "Can you unhook me? My arms are sore and I…" Her gaze falls to her feet and if her face hadn't already been red from the steam, I'd assume she was embarrassed for asking me to help her out of her bra. "I need help," she says softly, still not daring to look up at me.
My breathing hitches but I fight to keep my expression neutral as she shivers before me. She looks so small, feeble, and helpless, but I know her better than that now. She's fierce and powerful, and it's not lost on me that the only reason she fell through that ice was because she took the brunt of the blow to save me.
I make my way toward her and say, "Turn around."
She finally dares a glance my way, and my heart begins to pound. Secretly, selfishly, I hope she's blushing because she's sharing the same lustful thoughts as me. Slowly, she turns her back to me and I tentatively raise my hands to the tiny hooks of her bralette and inhale deeply, hoping and praying she doesn't sense my nerves. I've undressed women before, but those encounters never felt this intimate. Never felt this dangerous.
She twitches the moment my fingers graze her.
"Sorry," she whispers, looking at me from over her shoulder.
What I wouldn't give to have her the way I wanted to – to have her curled in my arms, to stroke my fingers through her hair and kiss every inch of her soft skin. This woman may very well be my undoing.
"Tell me if I'm too rough," I start unhooking each loop.
"I'm learning you could never be too rough with me, Atlas." The way she says my name makes my mouth dry.
It's agonizing; slowly undressing the woman who has consumed my thoughts since the moment I first laid eyes on her. She's not mine, but she could be. I'm trying to do the right thing by not confusing her by making the first move, but I'm afraid I might lose her to another man. Every bit of me wants to claim her, to make her forget Bastian ever existed. If she was anyone else, I wouldn't have ended our encounter in my room a few weeks ago. Seeing her on her knees before me is a sight I won't easily or readily forget. Imagining what it would feel like to have her pretty mouth around my –
"Finished," I take several steps away from her the second her back is exposed. "I'll get the tea started. If you need anything, let me know."
"Thank you." She faces me, her hands pressed against the front of her bra.
