Then her bra and panties.
She was still shivering, but looking at me—conscious, but a bit confused.
I moved away, pulling the airtight bags out of the closet, ripping them open, and tossing the fresh-smelling blankets on the bed.
I lowered her back onto them before stripping down to my boxers and climbing on with her, pulling her body close to mine, then wrapping the blankets around us.
Her body was cool against me, and as the heat grew in the cocoon I created, it felt like a thousand knives stabbing at my cold skin.
It was no wonder Steph wriggled and grumbled in my hold. The sensation must have been amplified a thousand times for her.
“You’re gonna be alright,” I assured her, running my hands up and down her back, glad to find her skin didn’t feel downright frigid anymore.
Warming up was good.
And slowly but surely, the shivering eased, then stopped.
Her heart no longer pounded against her ribcage but went slow and steady, almost in time with mine.
The fucking room was intolerably hot as the heat cranked relentlessly.
Sweat pricked my forehead, my head, my back.
But I refused to move away, wanting to trap as much heat as possible now that she was showing signs of improvement.
Stephanie shifted, grumbling, her fingers moving.
Yeah.
I didn’t forget about her hands.
But I had to focus on priorities. Aside from worrying about when her last tetanus booster was, since no ground in the city was exactly clean, I knew her hands could wait. Her core body temperature could not.
“Still with me?” I asked.
Her head nodded.
“Are you feeling warmer?”
“A little.”
A little?
I felt like I was being roasted over a fucking spit.
But it wasn’t me that mattered.
And she was no longer slurring her words. That was another step forward.
“Talk to me. What are you feeling?”
“Pins and needles.”
“Where?”
“Everywhere.”
“That’s gonna pass. Just focus on me instead. What else?”
