Page 7 of You Give Me Fever

He wanted to pick her up in his arms and keep her there, safe and cared for, forever. He wanted to give her pretty things and dress her in expensive sheer fabrics that wrapped her up like a present—and he had a feeling she would fight him on every part of such a plan.

“You can be fragile now, girl,” he said, trailing the cloth down her throat and to her collarbones. “I promise not to tell.”

Clara sighed and shifted as the cloth grazed the tops of her breasts. There was that feeling again, competing with the fever, those tingles on her skin, that thudding tension in her stomach.

“And you won’t tell... about that other matter?”

“What other matter?” asked Shiver.

“You know what.”

Shiver went quiet, slowly inching the washcloth down her chest. He could see little bumps rippling over her skin as it reacted to the cold.

“Hush,” was all he said before dragging her brassiere down to expose her pale breasts. He felt a renewed urgency in his hips, looking at them. He had kept her nightdress on last time, but now he could see those perfect little bee stings, just the shape and size to pop into his mouth like a treat. He rubbed the cloth along her breasts, taking his time to be sure he covered every inch of precious skin.

Clara sucked in a breath and wriggled under his hands. If he was trying to cool her down, he was failing. Heat bloomed between her thighs. Her heartbeat was rabbit-fast in her throat.

“Oh p-please,” she whispered, but she didn’t know if she meant it. He wasn’t really there, after all, was he?

“Please?” he asked, stopping his hand over her breast but not moving it away. He could feel how much she wanted this, could even feel her skin beginning to cool down, but a word from her would—painfully—stop him before he started.

She shook her head. She didn’t even know what she was begging for. Please don’t stop? Please go away? Please do that again, but harder? All of it at once? Clara’s foggy brain was sending her mixed signals in clamoring voices. But when she took a shaky breath in and shifted closer to his touch, Shiver knew that he was wanted.

“I’ve got you, it’s all right,” he said, gently pinching with the washcloth, rolling a rosebud nipple between his fingers. With the cool wash cloth between his hand and her skin, he could fool himself into believing he wasn’t really touching her, that his real motive was just to cool her body down.

She bit her lip and moved beneath his hand, unsure of even what her body wanted. Was she trying to get closer to this unusual and intoxicating touch, or move away?

A crack of thunder sounded above them, and the rumbling that followed made the panes in the windows rattle. Shiver watched her flushed face with eyes that smoldered in the darkness. He wanted to kiss those parted lips until they were swollen and red—but that was a step too far. A kiss was too fine for the likes of him.

He moved the cloth down her ribcage to the soft plane of her stomach. Her heat was collecting right beneath his touch, between her thighs, where she practically glowed with fever.

Well, it was only right to cool her off everywhere, he decided. He ought to be thorough.

A tendril curled under the hem of her panties to lift them up so he could slip his hand, and the cool cloth, inside, pressing against her throbbing heat.

“Oh!” Clara cried, reaching forward to grab a thick, shadowy arm.

It felt so solid that for a moment she was shocked out of her daze, distracted from both the fever and the dream by the sensation of a coolness against her most secret places. And behind that coolness, the feeling of fingers, just barely pressing against her folds, prodding with the care and precision of a surgeon.

“Just cooling you down, honey,” he said, slowly rubbing along her slit. “Relax. I’ve got you.”

Clara could not relax. As if the events of the night before had infected her, she was ravenous now for another taste.

Shiver felt it. Demons were nothing if not finely attuned to the approach of sin.

Thoughts rose up inside him, compelling and insistent. She’s still so hot right here. It wouldn’t be right to stop now and let her stay awake all night.

With great care and deliberation, he pressed the cloth to her entrance and rubbed until he had worked his way inside of her.

“Oh God,” said Clara in a moan.

Shiver hissed, pausing for a moment as the Name struck him like a slap to the chest. From a hand as big as an ocean.

“I - I mean,” Clara rushed to cover up her desire. “I mean that... is hhhelping.”

Shiver recovered quickly and quirked an eyebrow at her. For such a firecracker, she seemed awfully shy about feeling pleasure.

“Are you not allowed to enjoy this?” he asked.