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She met his gaze but obeyed wordlessly, huddled under the blanket. Shivers racked her body.
The fire isn’t enough.
They needed to share body heat and he was too tired to ask. He scooped her up in his arms, took her place on the makeshift couch, and arranged the blanket over the two of them as one. Jo didn’t resist and he was grateful, perhaps the cold had quenched some of her fire.
He checked her hands for frostbite. None. Thank fuck. He cradled her head until it rested against his chest. The weight of her soothed him. Here in his arms, she was safe. Nothing could hurt her.
His head tipped with exhaustion, his nose bumping her hair. Dampness had released the scent of her shampoo, a delicate floral note that taunted him as he held her in his arms. A tremble pulsed through him as his skin registered the exquisite softness of her pressed against him. He exhaled, breathing away the conflict her touch triggered as her scent wound through him, loosening all the knots he’d believed cast in iron.
And as weary sleep overtook him, he sank into the overwhelming rightness of being so close to the woman he barely knew.
17
Jo woke with a start.
Disorientation blindsided her. Wan morning light striped the ceiling. She stretched, the uneven stuffing of the cushions underneath her body lumpy and unforgiving.
Last night returned unevenly, dislodging the last sleepy cobwebs. Going off the road and the endless cold as they walked. Griff lighting the fire. The chill gnawing at her bones until Griff held her, his heart a comforting metronome. Her hand skimmed her bare belly. Her tank was rucked up. She was in her underwear. Pushing up to her elbows, she spotted her clothes hanging from the back of a nearby chair. She reached out to check them. Her sweater was dry. She pulled it on and swung her legs off the garden bench masquerading as a couch.
Jeez. The floor’s icy.
Jaw set, she pulled on her pants, buckled them as she crossed the room. Where was Griff? A loud creaking noise taunted her from the other side of the cabin wall.
Feeble sunlight filtered through the cabin’s only window, reflected from the snow outside. She had to stand on her tiptoes to see through the grubby glass.
Oh.
Griff. Shirtless. Stripped to the waist in black cargo pants that hugged his trim hips. Ribbons of desire unfurled in her belly.
His back muscles contracted, relaxed, as he worked a rusty hand pump that had to be connected to a source of underground water. His arms bulged with the effort as water gushed erratically into the bucket he’d placed underneath. Full, water slopped over the edge as Griff straightened and bent to scoop from the bucket. He splashed it across his chest, around the back of his neck, under his arms.
Good Lord.
She should look away, but it was impossible. Unexpected heat flooded her body. She drank him in, her hands locking on the edge of the wooden counter as her knees threatened to quit. She’d never seen a man like Griff. The sheer size of him. The smooth slide of perfectly honed muscle under his skin. He was like a beautiful machine—physical perfection.
Water beaded and danced across his hard body, trickling down his ridged abdomen to the dark trail disappearing under the waistband of his pants. They sat low on his lean hips, defined by the dip and curve of packed muscle—
He caught her eye.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Heat exploded on her cheeks and she spun away from the window, dashed to where her boots had been neatly paired by the now dead fire. She sat down with a bump, jammed one boot on.
A second later, the cabin door creaked open and there he was. He held a small towel against his chest, patting it against his skin as he closed the door behind him.
His eyes locked on her, burning with furnace level heat. “Shower’s a little cold.”
The cabin was too small with him in it. His physical presence dominated the small space, demanding of all of her attention.
Her heartbeat picked up, just from the way he looked at her. She barely knew him and this was a crazy time to get involved with anyone, especially the man who was being paid to protect her. And yet if he crossed the room right now, pushed her down on the bumpy couch, covered her body with his, she wouldn’t stop him. The idea made her breathless, made her heart hammer against her ribs. Who was this woman? This wasn’t her. She didn’t have thoughts like this. Thoughts that made her skin hypersensitive, every nerve attuned to the perfect male specimen in the room, commanding all of her attention.
She stood up, speechless.
“Are you going out like that?” His gaze dropped to her feet, a smile lifting one corner of his sexy mouth.
God. One boot on, one boot off. Heat flamed her cheeks, and she wriggled her socked foot. “Heck. No coffee, huh? I’m still half asleep.” She forced a laugh as if she did all this time and pulled on her second boot and laced them both with clumsy fingers. She straightened, catching sight of Griff pulling on his shirt with a wince.
Out of the glare of the morning sun and her libido back under control, she registered the blue-black mottling across his pectoral muscle.
