Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
O phelia 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.”
It was the darn please that did it. “Fine.” Keeping her body covered and trying not to move against his hard body, she tugged her other hand from the warmth of the bag. Her body felt like gravity pulled at her from every direction. She wriggled her fingers, and he leaned to the side, his chin brushing her bare shoulder.
“Your fingers look okay.”
Good. She slid her arm back into the bag, acutely aware of her bare butt on his groin. “Why did you get to keep your underwear?”
“My snow pants were waterproof.” His breath brushed the nape of her neck.
Spirals of warmth circled in her abdomen. “So, you could’ve kept on your long johns?”
“Yep. But skin to skin is warmer.” He palmed her biceps. “You’re not gonna like this, but I need you to turn around so I can check your nose and ears.”
Skin to skin and turn around? A sense of challenge and adventure rustled through her. “All right.” She scooted toward the fire, rested on her knees, and then turned to face him, straddling his thighs but not pressing against him. A whole new kind of shiver wandered through her.
He held the top of the sleeping bags, keeping them up around their necks. His eyes gleamed a predatory green in the darkness. “Now wiggle your nose.”
Here she was, naked and wrapped in a sleeping bag with the hot sheriff, and he wanted her to wiggle her nose? “Are you crazy?”
“No. Frostbite attacks fingers, toes, noses, and ears,” he said, lifting his hand to rub a knuckle across her nose. “Hurt?”
Her breath caught in her throat, and she shook her head. Her body felt languid, and the warmth surrounding her was intoxicating. A tattoo covered his left pec above his heart, extending over his shoulder. A deadly Osprey with a sharp beak, wide wings, and wicked talons. Keeping his gaze, she tapped each finger against his chest, finding a knife scar to the left of his heart and free of the bird of prey. A deep one, blade in. “That had to hurt.”
“Yeah.”
“Wiggle your nose,” she murmured. “How are your fingers, toes, and the rest?”
“Fine. I wasn’t under the surface as long as you. Not even close.” He ran his finger along the shell of her ear. “We got you out quickly, but the freezing cold ride to the hut took too much time, so we have to keep an eye on your health. Understand?”
She nodded, unable to do anything else. The moment felt too intimate.
“All right. We need to stay wrapped for a little while so I can’t look at your feet. I’m going to reach around you and press against your toes.” He checked out the shell of her other ear, and she shivered. He paused. “You okay?”
She gulped. “Yeah.” Her voice was throaty, but she’d swallowed water, so that must explain it.
He reached around her, gently gripping the toes that were pressed against her butt. “Tingles or pain?”
“A little, but not too much.” The wind whistled eerily outside as darkness dropped hard and fast. She shivered. “What time do you think it is?”
“Probably around three in the afternoon.” He tucked the sleeping bag closer around her neck. As much heat came from him as from the fire behind her, and she didn’t want to turn back around. He’d kept from looking inside the bag, anyway. Her thighs brushed his, and other parts of her warmed. There had to be mere centimeters between her breasts and his chest.
He winced and straightened out his left leg.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. Took a bullet in combat but sometimes the leg still aches a bit. No worries.”
Snow scattered against the door.
She licked her chapped lips. The fire cracked, and she jumped. “Is my cell phone still in my pants?”
“No. Both your gun and phone fell in the river.”
Just fantastic. She looked around the small hut. “What if the person who shot at us comes here?”
“My gun is right behind me, but we won’t need it. The storm is bad enough that nobody can walk up to the hut, and I’ll hear any snowmobile or four-wheeler long before it pulls up.” He brushed hair away from her eyes. “You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Her hand now flattened on his chest, and his heart beat steadily beneath her warm palm. “I think that’s my line. FBI and all.”
His grin was a quick flash of teeth that mesmerized her. “Didn’t we agree that soldier tops agent?”
That image flashed through her brain fast and hard. While he probably hadn’t meant the innuendo, her body didn’t catch that fact. “I can deal with danger,” she mumbled.
“You just can’t let a man take care of you, now can you?”
Even the words made her uncomfortable. “I’ve never known one to stick around long enough to try.” She wanted to ask more about the knife wound, but he probably didn’t want to share stories from the service.
“No dad?” he asked.
“Nope. Took off when I was just six, and I don’t remember him.” But she remembered her mother, who’d done her best. “We were poor, and my mom drank too much, but she loved me.” Her vulnerability felt overwhelming in her naked state. “She died of cirrhosis of the liver right before I turned twenty.”
He shifted his bulk. “I’m sorry. No husband or fiancé in your world right now?”
“Now you ask that?” she whispered, oddly comfortable, considering she sat naked in a sleeping bag with a man twice her size—straddling him. His answering smile almost softened his face. “I’ve dated some, but work has always taken precedence.” Truth be told, she’d never found a man as interesting as work. Until now. “What about you?”
It was impressive how he kept his gaze on her face and hadn’t snuck a peek at her breasts. “I fell in love with my third-grade teacher, Mrs. Wimplevat, who baked the best snickerdoodles in the entire world. No other woman has ever come close.” At her chuckle, he released the bag and settled back. “Okay. I’ve dated some and even had a fiancée once, but I guess the military always kept me moving.”
A different spurt, one that felt like jealousy—which was totally ridiculous—took her. “What happened to the fiancée?”
“She didn’t like my job and moved on with a doctor,” he said. “Last I heard, they have six kids and are doing well.”
The desire wandering through her body provided yet another ache to deal with on top of everything else. The fire crackled, and a log dropped loudly. “You’re easy to talk to.”
“Nobody has said that to me in my entire life.” He probed her temple. “Did you hit your head?”
She laughed and smacked his hand out of the way. “Seriously, though. I do owe you a thank you for saving my life.” He’d jumped right into the freezing cold to free her from the branch, endangering his life.
“My pleasure,” he rumbled. “I figured I’d get you naked at some point, but this wasn’t what I had in mind.” A playful tug on her ear accompanied his words.
She embraced the lighter topic. “Are you teasing me?”
“Yeah. Glad you’re alert enough to notice. You had me worried for a couple of minutes there.” He leaned up to check the fire behind her. Apparently appeased, he settled back down in an impressive ripple of muscle she wished she hadn’t noticed.
“I didn’t ask. Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.
“Fine. I’ll give it another half hour and then I’ll stoke the fire again.” His body provided a strong and heated wall around her, and she’d never felt so vulnerable and out of her element.
Hypothermia suddenly became the least of her worries.
“You’re safe, Ophelia,” he said, as if reading her mind. “I promise.”
Her body relaxed, even as her mind remained alert. Maybe she should try to talk about business. The idea of that dead body in the snow flashed through her mind. The killing had appeared odd, possibly ritualistic, and Brock knew more than he said. She could tell. “What do you think killed that man? The one from EVE?” She needed to visit the EVE facility as soon as possible to figure this out.
“I don’t know,” he murmured, no longer seeming so close, yet he hadn’t moved.
She sighed. “Yeah, you do. I’ve never seen anything like it. What kind of animal would do such a thing?”
He didn’t answer.
All right. She’d pursue that question later. She had plenty more to work with. “We have nothing to do but talk. Why don’t you tell me who you think shot Hank?”
He sighed. “We have plenty to do. I’ll stoke the fire now.”
Just when she almost got through to him, he shut her out. Well, if that was how he wanted to be, she’d get practical, too. “There must be a radio in one of those bins. Shouldn’t we check in?”
He still hadn’t moved. “No radio. The batteries freeze, so it’s not worth it for the kids to stock them with the other supplies. Plus, they’re expensive, and money is tight in Knife’s Edge.” The firelight danced across his face, hinting at a wildness she’d never encountered in another person. What was it about Alaska?
“Do the kids have some sort of town job, or do they stock the huts out of duty?” she asked.
Brock grinned. “The town hires them to make a little extra money, and they do a good job.”
His smile should be bottled and sold back in the city. Her thighs were now becoming too warm while bracketing his. “I wish you’d let me in about Hank.” Unable to resist, she flattened her hand over the wound too close to his heart.
“Hank’s off-limits, but you can get in any other way you want.” He leaned in, his breath warm on her lips. “I know another way we can spend the rest of the night.”
Desire, full and languid, spread through her, warming her faster than any fire. Temptation had never been so painful before, but morning always came, and she couldn’t do her job with regrets. Although, a guy like him might be worth it. “Not without trust, Brock.”
“Fair enough.” A veil dropped over his eyes. “We’re both warm enough for it to be safe to sleep now. How about a kiss goodnight?”
Well, a kiss didn’t take trust. Plus, if Brock sucked at kissing, she could get over this attraction to him and concentrate solely on the job she’d been assigned. “I guess one kiss would be okay.”
He settled his broad palms on her bare hips. “Better than okay, I hope.”
She lifted a shoulder, trying not to enjoy the feeling of him holding her in place. “You’re probably too good-looking.”
His upper lip quirked. “Huh?”
She placed her other hand on his chest, marveling at the strength. “Really good-looking guys, especially ones in the service, often don’t have to try very hard with the ladies. Maybe you’ve just skated by.” Why he brought out the imp in her, she’d never know.
He smiled, his gaze glittering. “Let’s test that theory.”
“Sure.” She leaned in, pressing her mouth to his, wandering along his lips. Firm and full. When he smiled against her, she felt the sensation in her heart. Light and sweet.
Without moving his hands, he tilted his head, forcing hers to the side. Then he kissed her. Real and deep, full of intent and seeking. No longer sweet. He tasted of male and snow and mint, of everything that was Brock Osprey. Without moving a muscle, he took over the kiss, sending commanding need through her so fast she could only shut her eyes and let him give. And take.
Finally, he released her.
She panted, caught up, realizing belatedly that she’d pressed against him—all of her against all of him. His erection prodded her through his boxers, full and hard.
He swallowed, his eyes a deeper green than she would’ve thought possible. “How’d I do?” His low and rough voice licked across her skin.
She couldn’t talk.
Amusement melded with the lust in his eyes. “I’ll take it.” He exhaled slowly, his hands still on her hips. “We continuing this or going to sleep?”
She couldn’t. Oh, she wanted to, but she couldn’t take that risk with him keeping secrets. Yet words still eluded her.
He slowly nodded. “All right. Sleep it is, then.” In one smooth movement, he turned her, settled her down to face the fire, and spooned around her, providing warmth and safety.
She stared at the fire, her body hotter than the flames and ready to go. A tree cracked outside as the storm grew louder. That fast, she remembered the danger hunting them. “Who do you think shot at us?”
“You. They shot at you,” he said quietly.
That’s what she had thought.