“Hey,” she mumbled.
“There you are,” he said, gripping the tender area again. “Stare at the fire and let it warm your face and dry your hair. Don’t make me pinch you again.”
She elbowed him in the gut, glancing off. “Stop it.”
“Stay awake.” He eyed the fire as it crackled. “You need to talk to me, Ophelia. We can’t sleep until we warm up, so talk.” He brushed her wet hair out of his way, revealing her slender neck. A purple bruise was forming beneath her ear. “Talk.”
“Sleep,” she mumbled, starting to shiver again.
He pinched her.
“Brock,” she snapped, still facing the fire. “Geez. Stop pinching.”
Better. Her voice sounded clear. He rubbed her hip, which would no doubt have a bruise. “I need you to take inventory. How do your fingers and toes feel?”
“Like they’ve been frozen off,” she muttered. She remained quiet for several moments, her breath shaky but steady.
“Pull your legs up, feet pressed together for warmth.” He waited until she did so, wrapping around her from behind. “That’s good. You’ll warm faster.” For a tall woman, she didn’t take up much room in the bags. He reached around her, tipping the broth into the cup and bringing it toward them. He tested the metal. Warm but not too hot. “Take this and hold it.”
She grumbled but pulled her arms free of the bags and reached for the cup, her soft hum of pleasure shooting through him to uncomfortable places.
“Good,” he murmured. “Now, sip it slowly. The salt and warmth with the little bit of protein will get your blood moving to heat you up. Drink just a little bit for me.” He kept a hand on hers since she shook so fiercely. “I’ll help you.” He let her take several sips before he relaxed. “Okay. You’ll be all right.”
She slipped her arms back into the bag, leaning against his bare chest, her body feeling fragile and soft. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He wanted to close his eyes and rest, but now wasn’t the time. They both had to be warmer before he could let his guard down to sleep, and there was no guarantee they’d found true safety. With her trusting him, defenseless andnaked in the bag, every protective instinct he’d ever had surged through him, the responsibility heating him as nothing else could. “I’ll keep you safe, Ophelia.”
She murmured something, no doubt not truly understanding the vow he’d just made. While she might be an FBI agent and a strong woman, right now she was naked and vulnerable, and he’d always been a fighter and protector. Nothing would harm her on his watch, and the depth that vow reached in him caught him by surprise.
The gun sat next to him on the bench, just in case. The storm increased in strength outside, battering against the doorway. That could only help them right now.
“You drink some,” she murmured.
He took the cup and drank a swallow, letting the broth heat him throughout. Her body remained cold against his, but her shivering had stopped.
Finally, she stiffened just a little, coming out of her stupor. “Am I naked?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ophelia stared at the fire, her body slowly warming. “Brock?”
“Yeah?” His breath brushed her hair, which was drying around her face. He gently pulled her right arm out of the sleeping bag and held her wrist in front of them, lit by the fire. “Wriggle your fingers.”
She did so, and pricks of pain tingled up her arm.
He drew her hand up. “Again.”
“You’re bossy when naked,” she mumbled, wriggling her fingers again. They still ached, but not as badly.
“You have no idea.” He rubbed his calloused fingers over hers. “You’re warming, and I don’t see frostbite.” He tucked her arm back in as gently as he’d taken it. “Next hand?”
She wiggled her hand, keeping it nicely inside the sleeping bag. “I’m good.”
“Take your hand out, or I’ll do it.” His voice sounded calm, but that thread of steel ran through it.
At the moment, she wouldn’t win a fight with a kitten, but she still could make a go of it.
“Please, Olly.”
