“The rest needs to come off.” His gaze flicked over her bra and underwear. “Everything’s wet.”
Heat flashed through her, and she felt like giggling. She was sitting in her underwear in front of a man who’d just killed people to save her, and she was responding like this was foreplay instead of survival.
“I can?—”
“No.” The word cut through her protest. “Your hands are shaking too badly.”
Yeah, He was right. Her fingers trembled in her lap. She couldn’t have managed her bra clasp if her life depended on it.
Actually, it probably did.
He moved behind her, and she felt his knuckles brush against her spine as he worked the clasp. The contact sent heat racing along her nerve endings, the rough texture of his skin a shock against her back. The bra fell away, and cold air wrapped around her breasts, tightening her nipples into peaks.
His hands settled on her hips, thumbs hooking under the waistband of her underwear. The contact made her entire body jolt, and she arched against him without thinking. She felt the heat radiating from his body, close enough to touch but not quite making contact. His breathing had gone shallow behind her.
“Up.” The command was soft but absolute.
She lifted her hips, and he slid the fabric down her legs with movements that were gentle but efficient. No unnecessary touching, no lingering contact. But when she risked a glance over her shoulder, she caught him looking, really looking, and he jerked his gaze away.
Naked and shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself in a futile attempt at modesty. His gaze swept over her body, and she burned despite the cold. When their eyes met, he looked away first.
“Bed.” He scooped her up before she could argue, and she couldn’t stop herself from curling against his larger body. God, he was so warm. She pressed closer without thinking.
The furs were rough against her skin but blissfully dry as he settled her under them. The pelts smelled faintly of musk and something wild, but they trapped warmth like nothing she’d ever experienced.
The shivering started again, violent tremors that made her teeth chatter and her muscles cramp. Good sign, her brain supplied. Shivering meant her body was still trying to fight the cold.
He disappeared from view, rummaging through the cabin’s sparse furnishings. Drawers opened from across the room, the scrape of wood against wood breaking the silence. When he returned, he carried what looked like a bottle of something clear and strips of clean cloth—not human medical supplies, but they’d do.
“This will sting.” He sat on the edge of the bed, the furs dipping under his weight. “But the wound needs to be clean.”
The alcohol hit the wound like liquid fire. She clenched her teeth to stop from crying out as pain exploded up her leg. The sensation was almost welcome after the numbness of hypothermia, proof that her nerve endings were still working.
His thumb stroked across her ankle while he worked, his skin warm and slightly rough against hers. A small comfort that he probably didn’t even realize he was offering. His touch was careful, professional, but she caught the way his gaze lingered on the curve of her calf, the line of her thigh where it disappeared under the furs.
He was holding back. She could see it in the tension across his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched when his fingers brushed against her skin. The predator was leashed, but barely.
And she was the prey he wanted to devour.
The knowledge should have terrified her. This was the same man who’d ripped through dangerous ferals like they were nothing.
But fear was the furthest thing from her mind.
He finished cleaning the cut and reached for the cloth strips, wrapping them with the same careful attention he’d shown her splint.
“Better.” He secured the bandage, fitting the splint back into place, and then his hands stilled on her leg. “But you’re still too cold.”
She was. Despite the dry furs and relative shelter of the cabin, her temperature hadn’t started to climb. Her fingers were still white, her toes numb blocks that she couldn’t feel when she tried to wiggle them.
His yellow eyes met hers.
“Skin-to-skin contact.” His voice was rough, like he was fighting to keep it level. “It’s the most efficient way to raise your core temperature.”
Heat washed through her, sudden and intense.
“Zeke...” Her voice came out as barely a whisper. The doubt must have shown on her face because his expression went carefully blank.
“You’re safe with me.” The words were soft. “Always.”
