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Looking down, he could see blood on the hand that gripped his jacket. He was having a hard time concentrating on what was happening around him. His only focus was on the warm hand that gripped his cold one and the voice that kept shouting for him to keep going. By the time his vision began to blur, and his muscles had nearly given up the fight to cooperate, he recognized the front door of Rayelle’s house.
“Ray!” Samantha shouted as soon as she got the door open. “Help us! Take the dog! Where’s your bathroom?”
Rayelle rushed to them, clearly confused. “Bathroom is that way. What the hell happened?”
Samantha shoved the dog into Rayelle’s arms, ignoring her bewildered expression, and pushed Bryce toward the bathroom. He stepped out of his boots and followed her, trying to calm down his shivering. He was cold, wet, and beginning to feel groggy.
Samantha was in a panic. She knew the dangers of hypothermia and had to get Bryce warmed up fast. He was shivering uncontrollably by the time she shoved him into the bathroom. She put the lid of the toilet down and pushed him to sit before turning on the shower.
“Take your clothes off,” she ordered.
She reached her hand into the shower stream and tested the water. When she looked back at Bryce, he was still sitting down with his jeans and socks on, and his jacket draped over his shoulders. Knowing he was probably too cold to follow her commands, she tossed his jacket to the side and went for his belt buckle.
“You have to help me. Let’s get you out of these clothes,” she coaxed.
After fumbling with the wet leather, she was finally able to get his belt undone and his pants unbuttoned. She did her best not to lose her cool at his unfocused gaze. Giving his shoulders a shake to get his attention, she abandoned her plan to get him undressed.
“Come on. Let’s just get you in the shower. Stand up,” she pleaded.
The sound of her heart beating drowned out the noise of the shower and whatever else was going on in the background. She took his hands and pulled, then breathed a sigh of relief when he stood and stepped into the shower. She helped him sit in the bottom of the tub under the stream of warm water. Every instinct told her a warm shower or bath was the fastest way to warm him up.
After climbing into the bathtub with him, she pulled off his wet jeans and socks and tossed them to the floor. She closed the drain so the tub could fill with water and began to look him over. His chest was all scraped up from the ice, but he wasn’t actively bleeding. She couldn’t begin to imagine what it felt like trudging through the cold icy water.
Fully clothed but for her boots and coat, she straddled him in the bathtub and waited for signs that he was beginning to warm up. Her hands rubbed up and down his arms as she mumbled a garbled version of a prayer. By the time the warm water filled up to his waist, he shook his head as if getting his bearings.
“Are you okay?” she asked, fully aware of the warm tears streaming down her face as the hot water sprayed over the two of them.
He smiled up at her and gave a slow nod in response. “Is the dog okay?”
“Ray! Is the dog okay?” she shouted without looking away from him, causing him to flinch.
“He’s going to be fine,” Rayelle answered from the other room.
Samantha examined his scrapes more closely, her hands gently touching every part of his chest and arms. When her hands moved to his stomach, she felt his sharp intake of breath.
“I’m okay,” he said, taking her hands in his.
“Are you sure?” She moved her hands to his face, tenderly stroking his stubbled jaw with her thumb.
He leaned into her caress and turned just enough to kiss her fingertips. The heat that coursed through her was completely unfamiliar. Closing her eyes, she took in a ragged breath, trying to focus only on the warm water beating on her back. After an involuntary shiver, she opened her eyes and met Bryce’s heated gaze.
“I was so scared,” she admitted, her voice coming out as a strangled sob.
He gripped her shoulders. “I’m okay. It’s okay.”
Squeezing her eyes closed, she breathed yet another sigh of relief. When she opened her eyes, his gaze was still on her. Placing his hands on her upper arms, he pulled her toward him until his lips nearly grazed hers. She closed her eyes and held herself steady, keeping a firm grasp on his shoulders.
“It’s okay,” she felt him whisper against her lips before completely closing the distance.
His mouth met hers in what felt like both an apology and a demand. She parted her lips to the heat of his tongue as it tangled with hers, the warm water continuing to wash over them. She wrapped her arms around him, needing to get closer still. Her wet clothes clung to her. She struggled out of her shirt, needing to feel the heat of his body against hers, still not convinced that he was okay.
Gripping her waist with one hand, he worked his way up her side with the other, allowing his thumb to graze her breast. She arched into him, wanting more; moaning in desperation when he slipped his hand under her bra, dragging his thumb across her hardened nipple.
“God,” he groaned, moving his hand back to grip her hips before going completely still. “I’m sorry.”
She leaned back to look at him. He was dripping wet from the shower spray, and she didn’t miss the heat in his eyes. She was soaking wet, and it wasn’t just from the shower.
“I’m sorry,” she echoed. “Are you okay? Let me get you a towel and some dry clothes.”
