Chapter 19
Noelle
So far, Fredrik’s house had been shrouded in mystery. I’d pictured a grand old house, but reality still managed to surpass my imagination.
It was a mansion. Bigger than anything I’d ever lived in, or even regularly visited. If this place had Finnish roots, they weren’t the cozy kind I associated with my Moomin-mug–collecting grandma.
Faintly lit by two spotlights flanking the iron gate, the house sat farther back from the road than its neighbors. Imposing, beautiful, and lonely.
As Fredrik parked at the front door, another violent shiver rattled through me. I couldn’t control the jerks anymore, and I’d stopped trying.
He gave me a hard look. “Let’s get you inside.”
“I feel a lot better.”
“And I’ll believe you as soon as you can say that without your teeth clattering.”
Holy hell. Why was my body betraying me like this? I felt the cold more easily than most, but I was sitting in a heated car. I should have been fine. Instead, winter had worked its way under my skin and taken over.
Fredrik slipped an arm around my shoulders and guided me to the front door. My tremors had turned me into a hunchback.
“I feel like an old lady being helped across the street by a young man,” I joked.
“If it helps, I don’t feel like a young man.”
The entrance hall was dark and grand, and I kept shaking as we shed our shoes on a rack crowded with work boots and sneakers. My eyes snagged on a shiny new pair of Timberlands.
“Are those yours?” I asked, pointing.
He looked at me, puzzled. “Yeah.”
“Why aren’t you wearing them?”
I glanced at the pair he’d just taken off. The stitching had come off one, leaving a trail of thread across the floor. The soles were starting to peel off.
Something shadowed his gaze. “They’re not my thing.”
“What? Non-leaking shoes?”
“Brands.”
“Then why buy them?”
I couldn’t stop myself; the questions kept firing out, powered by nerves and shivers.
He steered me through a long hallway into a kitchen and dining room that looked like it belonged in a lifestyle magazine: gleaming countertops, wide-plank floors, and a farmhouse table.
Everything was polished and beautiful, like a home for a family of seven that had been cleared for the photo shoot.
Fredrik, with his pained frown and his shadowy bookstore, didn’t fit the picture at all.
Through a doorway, I glimpsed a living room with moody olive-green couches and a massive stone fireplace, with flames licking against glass doors.
“It’s so beautiful,” I murmured.
He flicked on the pendant lights, warming the space even more, then guided me to the couch. “Lie down.”
I collapsed, still bundled in my jacket and hat. “What about the sauna?”
“You’re too cold for the sauna.” He wrapped me in a heavy blanket, brisk and serious.
“Too cold for heat? That makes no sense.”
“You’re showing signs of hypothermia. A sauna could stress your heart.”
“I don’t have hypothermia! I’m just cold.”
“I’m not risking it. You could go into cardiac arrest.”
I scoffed, trying to unclench muscles that refused to obey. “My grandma’s sauna was mandatory. Like the sweet bread she baked… pulla… and liters of coffee. Nobody ever died.”
My words slurred. Exhaustion tugged at me like anesthesia.
He lifted the blanket and pulled off my mittens, examining my hands. His fingers felt hot to my touch. “These are like icicles.”
“I’m always cold. It’s normal.”
Ignoring my protests, he pulled off my boots and removed my socks. “Oh my God. Your pinky toes… they’re white.”
I wiggled my toes. “Oh, don’t worry. They do that. The blood always comes back. Eventually.”
“This has happened before?”
“Sometimes.”
He slid a hand under the loose leg of my pajama pants, feeling behind my knee. “You’re too cold.”
I wasn’t sure if the shiver that followed was from the chill or his touch.
Suddenly, he stood up and stripped off his cardigan, shirt, and pants. I watched his clothes pile onto a chair, blinking at his muscled legs, my brain foggy.
“What are you doing?”
“Body heat,” he replied, and immediately moved to undress me.
He peeled off the blanket and yanked at the sleeve of my coat, making me feel like a three-year-old girl’s Barbie during a wardrobe change. Eventually, the coat came off, along with the sweater. I shivered in my tank top.
“Sorry,” he said. “I have to remove some layers for this to work.” He paused for a moment, glancing at my pajama pants.
“It’s fine,” I assured him. “Take off my pants. But could you leave my undies on? Unless you’re offering pelvic exams.”
His face turned red. “I wasn’t going to… I mean…”
“And leave my socks on,” I begged. “I need them.”
He pulled my socks back on, lowered himself on the couch behind me, and wrapped the blanket over both of us.
“I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. The safest way to raise your core temperature is by transferring my body heat to you. We must let your arms and legs warm up slowly to avoid cardiac issues or blood clots.”
I was fairly certain my core temperature was normal. My poor circulation was a genetic issue, and my arms and legs would eventually warm up. They always did. But I didn’t feel like arguing. Not when his heavy arm landed on me and that woodsy, masculine scent filled my lungs.
Fredrik was spooning me, and for a moment, nothing else mattered. My arms and legs ached as blood began to flow, but I didn’t mind the pain. It was overshadowed by the way his body spoke to mine. Like soothing whispers that settled my nerves and promised safety.
He held still, maybe out of respect or awkwardness, making it clear he wasn’t going to take advantage of the situation. But I felt his deep inhale against the back of my head, and a breath he released was a little unsteady.
“Thank you,” I said.
I wasn’t dying of hypothermia, but the way he held me felt lifesaving. Like those hugs from the ladies in the crochet club, it flooded my body with warmth and faith.
He placed his hand on my thigh, then felt behind my knee again. “You’re too cold.”
I told myself he was assessing my temperature. Yet my inside flooded with warmth that had nothing to do with survival. I counted every part of my body touching his. That hand on my leg, his chest against my back, the arm draped around my shoulder. Each point of contact sizzled with energy.
We were so close, with our entire bodies pressed against each other.
Every gust of breath against my neck sent confusing signals to my core, making it throb in anticipation.
I was feeling warmer now, and as blood returned to my extremities, it also flooded between my thighs, making me throb.
Did he feel it? Did he want me at all? I only needed to arch my back a little, push my bottom back, and—
I froze. That was definitely an erection. And not an emerging kind contained by his boxer shorts. This one poked me right between the butt cheeks, and I gasped.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “I think I need new underwear.”
He shuffled back and tucked it away, then returned his arm around me.
“What happened to your underwear?” I asked, smothering a grin.
“It’s… not supportive.”
“Don’t tell me they’re hand-me-downs from your grandpa.”
He huffed a laugh. “Not used. But he did buy them for me. They’ve got a fly. It gets loose when they wear out.”
“A dick flap?”
“Exactly.”
I bit my lip. “If only you liked me, we could just skip the underwear. Might be fun.”
He stiffened.
“I like you,” he said roughly. “I thought that was obvious.”
Fear battled curiosity, but curiosity won. I rolled to face him. He angled his hips away, but his arm stayed at my waist.
“Nothing’s obvious with you,” I said. “Trust me.”
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
“Please. I’m feeling fragile.”
His eyes caught mine and held my gaze. “You’re incredibly sexy, so this is hard for me. Very hard.” He raised a meaningful eyebrow. “But I’m trying to do the right thing. Get you warm. Let you sleep.”
I yawned right on cue. “I don’t mind your erection. I think it’s cute.”
He scowled. “Erections are not cute. They’re inconvenient, embarrassing, and sometimes useful, but never cute.”
I giggled. “Yours is as cute as a button. If I had a ribbon, I’d hang it right now.”
His glare could have set wood on fire. “You’re warm enough if you can talk like that. There’s nothing button-like about me.”
“Oh no,” I teased. “I didn’t mean a small button. More like a giant novelty one you’d use at a game show.”
He harrumphed, then checked my fingers again. “Yeah. You’re better. Go to sleep.”
He started to pull away, but panic shot through me. “Don’t go.”
His voice strained. “I think it’s best we’re not under the same blanket. But if you want me to stay…”
“I do.”
He tucked the blanket tightly around me, creating a barrier between our bodies, then lay down again, hugging me from behind. His restraint made me ache more.
“Is it really the worst thing?” I asked softly. “That something might happen between us?”
His breath stirred my hair. “No. But I need you safe. Tell me if you feel sick, dizzy, anything with your heart. Promise me.”
“Okay.”
I didn’t fully understand his concern, but I felt safe. Cared for. Anchored in a way that made my throat tight.
The tears came out of nowhere. I fought the first wave, but the second swamped me.
“Noelle?” His voice rasped at my neck. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I hiccupped. “I’m okay. I’m just…”
But words failed.
He tightened his hold, stroking my hair. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Gradually, the sobs faded. Through blurry eyes, I watched the flames dance behind the glass doors of the fireplace until they melted into darkness, and sleep carried me away.
I woke up to faint daylight seeping in through the windows. Thank God it was Sunday. I didn’t have to open the store. I was cocooned under a layer of blankets, blissfully warm, but alone.
I rolled over, browsing the room through dipped eyelids, and suddenly jerked wide awake.
Fredrik was here.