Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
“Hey. It’s all right. It’s just me.” The words grated Rhett’s throat, and he fought the urge to pull her against him.
He didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out something had triggered the memory of Beanie touching her.
He curled his hand into a tight mallet and fought the urge to pummel his own stupid head.
He should have considered what had happened on the yacht before trying to rip off half her clothes.
“I’m sorry. I just—it keeps flashing through my mind, you know?”
Her sobs ripped at his heart. He scooted closer to her but held back from touching her shivering body. She needed to get warm, and probably take off her wetsuit, but right now what she needed most was reassurance.
He picked up the blanket she’d thrown off and tossed it over her. “Keep this on. You’re shaking like a leaf.”
She lifted her chin, and the sight of her ashen face and blue lips injected terror into his veins. He cursed and grabbed her shoulders, hauling her to him. She didn’t flinch but stayed stiff in his hold.
“I think you’re going into shock. Let me warm you.”
A big fat tear hovered at her lashes. Her chin dimpled as she frowned.
“Please?” he added.
She swiped her nose with her wet hand and nodded. He pulled her onto his lap and circled the blanket around them. Her body spasmed even more, and the heat his core had started to generate began leaching out of his skin. He didn’t care. As long as the heat was going to her, he’d survive.
He rubbed his hands rapidly over her arms, then her back, then her legs, taking great care to avoid the gash.
She pressed her nose into his throat and goosebumps puckered his flesh.
Jesus, she was so cold. Scary cold. He lifted his hand to her hair and tossed it over his shoulder so it’d be one less wet thing on her skin.
“Why didn’t you d-d-do it?”
“What?” His voice sounded distant to his own ears, strained.
The only thing he cared about was keeping her from going into shock.
If blood rushed back to her heart too quickly, she could go into cardiac arrest. The best thing he could do was warm her core, which was next to impossible given that her wetsuit prevented skin-to-skin contact.
He repositioned her on his lap, draping her legs around his waist and pressing her chest against his.
She didn’t protest the closeness, which alarmed him even more.
“Kill B-Beanie.”
He grunted and curled his arms tighter around her back, making sure the blanket covered every inch of her that he didn’t.
“Because I couldn’t. Not without making things even messier than they are.”
“M-M-Messier because of . . . me?”
“Shh. Just get warm right now, okay? Then we need to get to that cut.”
The raft spun and tilted, and he pressed his heels into the floor to keep them upright.
“You need to take off the wetsuit.”
The muscles in her back hardened underneath his palm, and she pulled away. Her eyes lit with golden fire, and she shook her head. “I can’t. I don’t have anything on underneath.”
He continued moving his hands down her back. Even if she were fully clothed underneath, it wouldn’t matter. Everything wet had to come off. Otherwise she’d keep losing heat.
“Wearing a soaking wetsuit will make it impossible for you to get warm.” He hated saying it. Hated pushing her to strip after what she’d been through, but if she went into shock, he’d have to tear the blasted suit off anyway to keep her alive. Better if she made the decision on her own.
The blue hue to her lips deepened, and her teeth chattered. She lifted a shaking hand to her hair, her eyes distant. “W-What will happen if I don’t?”
He caught her hand and held it out so she could see the loss of color in her fingers. “We’ve got an hour at least before the coast guard gets here. If you’re not warm in the next few minutes, you’ll go into shock.”
Her chin quivered. “Naked?”
His mouth went dry. “I’ll stay like this,” he said. His chest was bare, but he’d keep his pants on. “We’ll need to huddle together under the blanket so we both stay warm.”
She slid off his lap onto the floor and tugged at her wetsuit’s zipper.
The material crackled, and he saw a flash of creamy skin.
He quickly shifted his gaze to the door and stared into the distant night.
He heard the sound of heavy, wet material slapping together, and his pulse thumped against his throat.
Silky skin filled his peripheral vision.
Temptation called him but he couldn’t, wouldn’t, tear his eyes from the clouds moving over the high-hanging moon.
“D-D-Done.”
He closed his eyes and stretched out his arm. She wiggled close to his side, and the fullness of her breasts caressed his pecs. He closed his arms around her naked back and adjusted the hypothermia blanket around them.
“There. I didn’t see a thing.”
A moan rattled her chest. “Oh my god, you’re so warm.
” Then her body went limp. All its rigidness and tension melted away.
She swung one leg over his lap and plastered her body to his chest. The sharp cold of her skin made him feel as though he were plunging into the ice water all over again.
He was far from warm, but compared to hers, his body radiated heat like a sauna.
“Once we generate more heat, this blanket will warm us like an oven.” He pressed his elbows against her sides and covered every inch of her bare skin he could reach.
She snuggled her face under his jaw and breathed into his throat. A cough shook her shoulders, and he tightened the blanket around them.
She moaned again. “This is heavenly.”
He swallowed a snort. Having a butt-naked woman draped over his cock for the sole purpose of survival was far from heavenly for him.
It was closer to torment. He shouldn’t have been turned on, but he couldn’t stop his cock from thickening in his pants.
The fact that he could get aroused after having lost almost all his body heat said a great deal about his libido.
As her pebble-like nipples pushed harder against his skin, he dipped his head forward and closed his eyes. The smell of salt and ocean coated her skin and filled his nostrils. It was intoxicating.
Focus, dammit. Stop getting hard and just keep her warm for Christ’s sake.
He moved his hands briskly up and down her back.
If he could get her heated, he could get her off him and think clearly.
Drifting too far, his hand brushed over the top of her full, sensual ass.
He jerked his hold to the indent of her waist and took a deep breath to slow the desire building in his body.
She loosened her grip on his waist and snuggled her belly closer, oblivious to his torture.
His abdominal wall constricted, and he caught her hips so she couldn’t get any closer.
“Who’s your team?” she mumbled sleepily against his neck. He continued stroking her back, trying to match his beating heart to the slow movement.
“What do you mean?”
“You called FBI agents, didn’t you?”
He exhaled a hot breath and stilled his hand. He hadn’t been careful enough. But now that they were off the ship, she couldn’t really threaten his cover. Hell, he didn’t even have a cover anymore, so what did it matter?
“I was on an undercover operation for the last six weeks while working for Moretti.”
She jerked in his arms and drew her head back. “Oh my god.”
He made a face. “Yeah. You’ve probably heard about how his nephew allegedly murdered a stripper. I was assigned as his bodyguard so I could dig up information on who he’s paying off to get his nephew acquitted.”
She kept several inches of distance between her chest and his.
Her breasts still lay against his skin, and if he looked down, he’d get an eyeful of cleavage.
Dryness coated his eyeballs as he fought the urge.
Instead, he stared at her now pale-pink lips.
Her cheeks weren’t full of color yet, but they no longer held a scary grayish tint.
Her eyes, too, lit with life. Her pupils weren’t dilated on the fast train to shock town.
“I screwed up everything,” she whispered, shaking her head. He couldn’t resist dragging his fingertip over the delicate outline of her shoulder. When had soothing the woman who’d blown up his case become so damn important?
“You didn’t do it on purpose. But you shouldn’t have tried to steal from Moretti.” The words came out with a hard edge. If he accomplished anything tonight, he prayed it’d be getting Peyton to turn her life around. “Will you leave it alone after this?”
She blinked. “Leave what alone?”
“Whatever it is you tried to take from Moretti.”
She looked down and lifted a shoulder. “Uh, yeah. I won’t go near him again.”
He studied her. Something didn’t fit. She’d been hell-bent on not leaving the ship without the thing she’d been searching for. But then again, since then she’d been slashed with a knife and nearly raped. And she’d jumped off a moving boat. Drastic events changed people.
She moved the blanket and brought her attention to her thigh. He followed her line of vision. The dark-red gash split her porcelain flesh, and blood trickled down her leg. “Crap.” She pressed her hand to the wound.
“Shit. Are you warm now?”
She nodded.
He removed the hypothermia blanket from his shoulders and wrapped it around her body. “It’ll be easier for me to clean it if you lie down.”
She scooted to the floor and lay on her side. Bringing his hand to her knee, he wrapped the blanket around her hip and then tucked it between her knees so it wouldn’t move and expose her.
He reached for the medical bag, which had rolled to the other side of the raft. Waves lifted the boat, but the motion wasn’t violent. Grabbing a clear bottle and gauze, he inspected the three-inch-long cut.
“What’s that?” She eyed the bottle sharply.
“Peroxide.”
She hissed. “That’s going to hurt more than the saltwater.”
“Probably,” he said with a grimace. “Just don’t kick me, okay?”
“I’m not making any promises.”