Page 11 of Wicked Rush

Chapter Five

Braelynn Rollins.What the hell was she doing at his house? Soaked to the bone, the damn stubborn woman fought him despite the fact she’d succumbed to hypothermia. How the hell did she get so fucking wet? The ocean? He’d seen the movement at the top of the bluff. Jesus Christ, yes. Lars glanced at the clock out of habit but already knew it was high tide. He shook his head in frustration. What the fuck was she thinking? She could have been killed. One good wave could have crushed her against the rocks or simply washed her out to sea. Even the strongest swimmer could become disoriented at night. Between rough currents and low water temperatures, she’d struggle to get back to shore.

As he cradled her in his arms, Lars forced himself to take a deep breath, to evaluate the situation. He’d caught her trying to break into his house, and couldn’t figure out for the life of him how the hell she’d thought she’d be able to get away with it. On the off chance she got lucky and entered the correct code, there was a secondary security pad inside the kitchen that had to be disabled or else the alarm would sound.

He glanced to Braelynn, her green eyes blinking up at him. The flicker of defiance attempted to conceal her deception. Dark brunette hair clung to her cheeks, and although she’d stopped shaking, her soft lips still trembled.

“You know, there’s nothing wrong with my front door,” he quipped. Snatching a throw blanket off the end of the bed, he laid it over her.

“I’m sorry, what?” she whispered. Her eyes fell to his hands which lingered over her belly.

“You’ve got to get these off. Can you…uh…do you need help?” Lars hesitated. To treat hypothermia, he knew he needed to get her core body temp warmed up slowly. Her sodden clothes had to be removed so he could wrap her in blankets. Undressing a girlfriend would not have been an issue, but Braelynn wasn’t his lover. Nor was she a friend.

“I can do it. I just…” she began. Her hands fumbled with the button on her jeans. After several minutes passed, she threw her arms to the side in frustration. “Shit.”

“Look Doctor, as much as I’d like to be chivalrous, you need to get out of these clothes now. So I’m just going to help you off with them.” Lars shook his head, aware of his attraction to her. How the fuck did I get myself into this situation? Do not think about sex. This is so wrong. “I think maybe…let’s start with your top.”

“I can’t. My fingers, they feel…I’m so cold.” She coughed and rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes. “Get them off. Do it.”

At her request, Lars didn’t waste a minute. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, he tore her shirt over her head as fast as possible. Stealing a glance, he sucked an inaudible breath; her dusky pink nipples pressed through the transparent fabric of her sodden bra. Focusing on his task, his eyes met hers as his palms slid underneath her back, deftly unhooking her bra.

“I can…” she began but went silent as he dragged the straps over her shoulders. Revealing her bareness, he tossed the undergarment aside, and covered her with a blanket.

“Now, your jeans. We’ll get you warmed up. You’ll be okay.”

“I’ll be okay,” she repeated.

Lars hesitated for a moment before his hands went to her jeans. With his eyes locked on hers, he slipped a digit underneath her waistband, fingering open the button with his thumb. She shivered under his touch but didn’t move to stop him.

His face remained impassive as he pulled the zipper down and tugged the waistband over her hips. But as he attempted to remove the drenched denim, her hands moved to his wrist. Lars lifted his head in question and glanced below her navel. Slowly and deliberately, she released him. Sliding her fingers over her bared mound and down into her jeans, she covered herself.

Lars sucked a breath, and tore his eyes from her soft belly. With a swift yank, he stripped off her jeans. Feigning indifference, he casually covered her thighs with the blanket. He quickly shoved off the bed and headed to his closet, plowing his fingers through his hair. Holy hell. No fucking underwear? She might as well have hit him with a baseball bat.

The whole situation was fucked six ways till Sunday. He cupped his half-hard dick and threw his head back in frustration. He knew full well she was colder than shit, but at the present moment he couldn’t return until he calmed down. No, Lars. Fucking quit this shit. She just tried to break into your house, he told himself. He took a deep breath and counted to ten, willing his cock into submission.

A small moan echoed from his bedroom and he returned to the bedside. Praying she hadn’t noticed his reaction, he spread a fluffy comforter over her small body and sat on the edge of the bed. The haze in her eyes told him she might still be in shock. She’d need sleep to recover.

Taking in the sight of her in his bed, Lars wondered why she’d ever risk walking down near the cliffs at night. A scientist, she’d know to respect the ocean. None of what had just happened made any sense. He suspected she wanted the key, but at what cost? Instead of waiting to meet him, she’d come to his house directly? No, not to meet him, she’d come to break into his home. She had to have known it wasn’t safe.

“Lars,” she whispered, her lids closed.

“Yeah, sweetheart.” Although he couldn’t bring himself to smile, the tone in his voice softened at the raw vulnerability that resonated through her strength.

“I’m sorry.” She turned on her side to him, bringing the edge of the white cotton blanket to her chin.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“I just…I need…” her words faded as she drifted into sleep.

Lars sighed and reached to cup her cheek. Warmth radiated in his palm, and a small smile crossed his face, relieved her temperature was rising. His other hand reached for hers, and although logic told him to release her, he gave in to indulgence, his fingers brushing over her soft skin. He stroked her delicate wrist, discovering the tiny black dots lining her inner arm. What the hell? Who did this?

Anger burned swift inside his chest, aware that the bruise on her arm had to have been caused by force. The distinct five-fingered handprint appeared fresh, its bluish edges telling him it had probably happened within hours. Lars blew out a ragged breath and gently placed her limb underneath the covers.

He pushed to his feet, glanced to the clock and then to the pile of soaking clothes on his hardwood floors. Fuck me. Nearly two in the morning, and he was set on an early rise. It could wait. If he didn’t get some sleep, he wouldn’t be able to function.

Exhausted, he considered his options. Torn between calling the authorities to arrest her ass and interrogating her himself, he chose the latter. The last time he’d left things to the police, they’d done nothing, refused to investigate further. Braelynn wasn’t going anywhere anyway. Four hours of shuteye, and he’d get answers. No more excuses, Dr. Rollins was in for a rude awakening. He suspected the extent of duplicity was far more elaborate than her plea of innocence. Despite his attraction for the lovely doctor, he’d show no mercy.

The shift of the bed roused him but it was the sound of her metal zipper scraping over the wooden planks that caused Lars to focus. He fought a smile as the sight of her bared bottom came into view. Bent over, she’d clutched at the blanket, sorting through her clothes. The throw draped down her back, the nape of her perfectly rounded ass peeking up at him.