Kayla holds out her hand, and I place the warmer in her palm and put the other hand on top of it. Then I enclose them both in my hands and rub her skin to transfer the heat.
Her fingers are small and delicate against my meaty hands. I lift them to my lips and blow warm air onto her skin. She shudders, and our eyes lock, and a different type of heat dances between us.
If I could harness that heat to keep her warm, I would, but there are more practical ways to combat hypothermia than a heated stare.
“Take your wet things off. We need to get you dry.”
“How about you?” she asks, between her chattering teeth. “You need to get warm too.”
Her thoughtfulness is sweet, but I promised Kayla I’d keep her safe, and I intend to. “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I’m tough as nails. I can handle a little rain.”
“That was more than a little rain.”
The fact that she’s joking with me is a good sign, but I still need to get her dry and warm pronto.
“Clothes off. Now.”
She raises her eyebrows. “And you accused me of being forward.”
She puts the heat pack on the bench and fumbles with her jacket zipper. After a few moments, she looks at me with frustration.
“My fingers are too numb. Can you do it?”
I swallow hard. She’s asking me to undress her, and even though we’ve just walked through a rainstorm, she might have hypothermia, and we’re stranded in a cabin with no outside communication, my fucking cock stirs to life.
I hope to hell she doesn’t notice what an asshole my cock is as I crouch in front of her. Her soaked leggings cling to her and give off a musky scent that’s all Kayla. My cock pushes against my wet pants, making this even more uncomfortable than it already is.
I swallow hard and take the zipper in my fingers, trembling with something other than cold. I manage to get the jacket undone and slide it off her arms. Underneath she has on a long-sleeved cotton t-shirt which has gotten wet through the light jacket. No wonder she’s so fucking cold. I should have checked her outfit before we left, but I was too eager to get out of the car and away from the river.
The wet t-shirt needs to come off, so I hook my thumbs under it. “You okay if I take this off too?”
She nods and I pull the t-shirt over her head, exposing her pale belly and some kind of stretchy white fabric bra that is themost un-sexy underwear I’ve ever seen, but on Kayla it looks erotic as hell.
Her hands immediately fly to her stomach, covering it up. Unnecessary, but I don’t mind because it gives me a view of her perfect breasts pushing to get out of their bra and the creamy cleavage that I bet feels silky smooth.
I must be staring, because she coughs, and I remember that I’m trying really hard not to be an asshole and drag my gaze away from her tits and to her face.
“That’s going to need to come off too.”
She nods shyly, and if she wasn’t so cold, I bet her cheeks would have a pretty pink blush to them. But she is cold and shaking, so we have to move quickly.
I spin her around to find the clasp for the bra and to make sure I’m not facing her when it comes off, because seeing her breasts might be too much for this reformed asshole to handle without having to run my hands over them.
But the bra has no clasp like a normal bra, and I spend a few seconds running my hands over it looking for the hidden release.
“How the fuck do you get into this?”
She giggles, and I welcome the sound. It’s better than the chattering of her teeth. But her body shudders with cold as her hands move to the front of her bra.
“The clasp is at the front.” She tries to undo the clasp but gives up in frustration. “You’ll have to do it.”
Oh fuck. I’m really in trouble now. But I need to get her out of that wet bra and into something dry and warm.
“Are you okay with that?”
I come around to face her again, and she peers up at me.
“Yes.” Her voice is barely a whisper, and I try to keep my fingers only on the clasp and not stroke her creamy skin, like I long to do.
