“Dalton, I’m fine.”
“You got out of the car.”
“I saw you coming.”
“I told you to stay inside.” I opened the kitchen door. “I told you specifically what would happen if you didn’t.”
Her face flushed. “You were being dramatic.”
“Was I?”
I reluctantly set her down. She stumbled slightly, and I steadied her with my hands on her shoulders. There was snow in her hair and her face pale.
“Are you hurt?” My voice sounded almost garbled to my ears.
“No, I’m—”
“Let me see.” I didn’t wait for permission. My hands went to her coat, yanking the zipper down. She made a sound of protest, but I ignored it. I stripped the coat off and threw it on a chair.
“Dalton, what are you doing?”
“Checking for injuries.”
I pulled her sweater up and over her head. She yelped and tried to cover herself, but I caught her wrists.
“Stop.”
“You can’t just—”
I saw it then. A red streak across her shoulder from the seatbelt. My insides clenched. It could have been worse. So much worse. And then, what would I have done?
I leaned down and pressed my lips to it. Gentle. Reverent.
“What are you doing?” Her voice shook.
“Something I should have done weeks ago.”
I’d spent two weeks fighting this. Fighting her. Fighting myself.
I was done fighting.
She stood there in just her bra and jeans, hair wild, eyes wide, breathing hard. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
And she could have died today.
I bent and lifted her into my arms again. She didn’t protest this time. Just wrapped her arms around my neck and held on.
I carried her toward the stairs and made it three steps before I had to stop and taste her.
I kissed her, pouring every ounce of fear and relief and need into it.
Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer.
I forced myself to stop and carried her up the rest of the stairs. I made it to the landing before I had to kiss her again.
“What about Cade?” she whispered against my mouth.
“Cade can mind his own damn business.”
