Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Colleen
Naked.
It was the best option.
Brain fog was real, her blood like a cherry slushie, moving through her veins at half speed. Nursing had taught her that she was at risk of cardiac arrest right now. Warming up too fast would hurt her. The rum Moore gave her was nice, but not the right treatment.
She needed to drink warm fluids, to be dry, lots of blankets, and Moore’s naked body pressed against hers, to slowly heat her to the point of shivering.
Shivering was good.
Shivering would be a relief.
“You want us both naked? Seriously?”
“Heat, Moore. Need heat.”
He stood, wincing and moving slowly. For the first time, her slush-filled mind realized Moore was injured, too. Not as bad as she was, but fear surged through her, turning her calm, cold slowness into a more active terror.
They could both die.
No, she thought. We can’t do that to Jordy.
Or Sandwich.
Flicking a light switch on the wall, Moore scowled at the fixture. “Electricity’s off. But I bet they use gas for the stove. No automatic gas generator. Wonder if they’re weekenders. Might not have turned the tank off. I’ll find a kettle. Get something hot in you.”
“Moore.” Dark spots filled her vision. “No time. Slow heat. Wet clothes off. Find scissors. A knife.” Her capacity for lining up words into full thoughts was fading.
“A knife? For what?”
“Cut clothes.”
Alarm flashed across his face, his steps fast as he bent down to her, reaching under the blanket to grab the hem of her sweater. Pulling up, he moved her arms. A dull shock ran through her, heavy and painful, and she made a choking sound.
“Slow. My heart.”
“Your heart?”
“Move too fast… heart attack.”
“You could have a heart attack if I move you too fast?” Incredulity and shock filled his voice as she nodded.
“Cut off. Easier. Safer.”
“Safer?”
“I have hypothermia,” she said, forcing the words out. “Mild now. Getting worse.”
“It can get worse?”
“Hard to stay awake. Need warmth. Cut my clothes off, loser!”
A harsh laugh burst out of him at the old insult from when they were kids, but it did what it needed to do, shaking him out of his weird hesitation.
He went to the kitchen and pulled out drawers until he found what he was looking for.
Striding back to her, Moore took the knife blade and slipped it under her shirt, cutting carefully up to the collar, exposing her bra.
Of all the days to wear her old, overstretched one, the boring beige of function.
Then again, she hadn’t exactly been planning to be a Victoria’s Secret model today.
Colleen would have laughed if she’d had the energy. Moore was staring at her front-clasp bra, his expression one that had never factored into all her years of fantasies about him undressing her. In fact, this entire scenario had never occurred to her.
“Arms,” she said as Moore quickly cut from armpit to wrist, her soaked shirt now off. Moving one arm took all her energy, the black spots blooming like oil spills before her eyes.
She panted, conserving energy, as Moore set the knife down and reached for the button on her jeans.
If only she could feel them, she imagined his fingers would be like icicles.
A wave of heat made her skin hurt fiercely, her attention drawn to the growing fire in the stove.
“Sorry,” Moore murmured. “Let me try this.” The button unpopped, the zipper lowered, but she felt very little as he pulled her wet jeans down over her hips, stopping to untie her boots. Of course she had to wear her lace-ups today.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “Should have worn the zip-ups.”
“Next time you plan to flip a truck in an unexpected blizzard, go for Uggs.”
Of all the things Moore could have said as he undressed her in the least sexy way possible, this was what made her laugh. The sound was tinny and muted by her chest going tight, pain radiating from a shoulder she was starting to realize she’d injured.
Severely.
Maybe that was why she couldn’t move. Not just hypothermia.
Moore gently peeled off her socks, her toes moving slowly by sheer force of will. Couldn’t feel the damn things, but she saw movement, which was a good sign.
Then Moore stared down at her.
“Can you lift your hips?”
“Is that your version of dirty talk in bed?”
The way he reeled back in surprise made her smile.
Then he grinned, a light in his eyes she’d never seen before. “You’re the one who asked me to get naked.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Rumbling laughter poured out of him, giving her a chance to really study his movements as she did her best to lift her ample ass. The stroke of his fingers on her chilled skin was something she wanted to feel, but couldn’t.
Moore Mottin was taking all her clothes off.
And he had no idea what she was about to propose next.
Clad only in panties and bra now, she looked at him. “Cover me with both quilts.”
He did so. She felt a prickly hot sensation in her right shoulder, the injured one. Getting blood to flow would be tough.
And hurt a lot.
“Now you.”
“I’m supposed to get naked?”
“Yes.”
“And then what? Wrap myself in a blanket?” As he said the words, he fumbled with his top button, struggling so much that he gave up. Hands shaking, thighs quivering, Moore was a motley mess, she realized.
Tears would have filled her eyes if she weren’t so tired.
“Just get naked.”
He grabbed the placket of his shirt and ripped hard, a button popping off and striking Colleen’s cheekbone. As she watched, she realized that his shoes were gone.
“What happened to your shoes?”
“Kicked them off underwater.”
“You carried me all the way here in socks?”
“Yes.”
“That’s insane!”
He just shrugged.
And stood before her, torn shirt exposing his chest, the cuffs still buttoned. Reaching for his belt, he slowly opened it, letting the buckle hang as he unbuttoned his pants. The zipper sounded like a sigh when he pulled it down.
Keenly aware of her own body under the down comforter, she felt her ass first.
Of all the places to get sensation back.
A slab of cold concrete, it didn’t really feel like part of her body.
Lifting one foot, then the other, he took his socks off. Peeling his pants off was a slog, the fabric tight against his athlete’s body. Moore had been a baseball player for years, basketball in the winter, and in his early thirties, he still possessed the fine-tuned lines of a man in shape.
If Colleen weren’t so injured, she’d be incredibly turned on by now.
Watching his unscripted striptease might get her blood moving faster, if nothing else, making Moore’s undressing the actual act that saved her life.
“Okay. How naked do I go?” he joked, standing before her in tight boxer briefs, shivering.
“Get a blanket.”
“You need them more than I do.” His words were muted slightly as he bent down before the woodstove, poking at it, giving her a fine, fine view of his backside.
And that was the moment she knew she would not die. If she could think about sex and lust, she was biologically out of the danger zone.
You couldn’t run from a bear and have an orgasm at the same time.
Colleen Luview couldn’t drool over Moore Mottin’s fine, nearly naked ass while dying of hypothermia.
Another log on the fire and Moore seemed satisfied, turning back to her.
Colleen’s left arm worked better now, so she lifted the covers, the shock of cold air making it clear she was warming up, even if it didn’t seem like it.
“Get in here with me. I need your body.”
“Again, Colleen, these are the worst come-on lines.”
“Your heat. I need your body heat. Get in here.”
His eyes flitted to a spot behind her. “Would the bed be better?”
“Anything is better than arguing.” A spasm, hard and painful, hit her upper arm. Closing her eyes, she bent her head down and sucked in a breath, the cold whistling through her back teeth.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. My chest.”
Instantly, he was under the quilt with her, hands lifting her up, sliding her forward. She was suddenly in his arms, face against his chest, her cheek cold against his pecs.
“Moving you to the bed. Cold floor isn’t helping,” he said in a commanding tone she didn’t know he was capable of. Laid down carefully on the bed, she watched him disappear, then reappear with the two comforters.
Then he crawled onto the bed on all fours, positioning the blankets, hovering over her. His breath was warm and smelled surprisingly sweet, eyes filled with worry.
“Tell me what to do, Colleen. How do you want this?”
“Now who’s throwing out bad pick-up lines?”
Taking the lead, he stretched out next to her.
“As much skin against mine as possible. You’re warmer.”
“I’m an Olympic athlete compared to you, Colleen. You remind me of one of those wax figures in Madame Tussaud’s museum.”
“Then your job is to make me melt.”
The press of his leg against hers made Colleen wish she could feel more of this, but the pain in her chest and her generally frozen state dominated. This was not how she wanted to die, ninety percent naked in Moore’s arms, felled by a heart attack from hypothermia.
Worst of all, she hadn’t shaved her legs in a week. Moore’s calves were brushing against Bigfoot down there.
And then she realized she hadn’t exactly landscaped other parts of her body recently, either.
“Good grief,” she muttered to herself as Moore tucked the down comforter around the edge of the side opposite him, her skin going prickly on the soles of her feet.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just thinking stupid thoughts about stupid stuff.”
“Keep thinking them. How’s your chest pain?”
“Still there.”
He paused, looking down at her with so much caring and love that for a split second, she thought they were together. It was as though he’d always been hers, and the years of not being a couple were a time warp from a different dimension.
Oh, goodness. She was losing her mind.
“You can’t die on me, Colleen.”
“I know. Luke would kill you.”
His hand reached for her chin, tipping it up so their eyes met with an intensity that sparked an emotional fire in her.
“Not just because of Luke.”