“That sounds . . . charming. And you’re going to protect me from that how, exactly?”
“Using my body.” He pulled open the café door.
They stepped out into the night and the air hit him like a slap. Sharp and damp and mean. Merry shivered beside him, curling tightly into his coat.
“Okay, you win,” she said. “I would have died in just my duffle.”
It was only a short walk to the station, but it felt like they were hiking across Antarctica. Christian watched as Merry pulled his jacket closely around her. He shivered violently now that he was outside in this weather wearing nothing but a sweater. A very wet, very clingy sweater.
More than once he caught Merry glancing over at him, her eyes falling on the way his sweater was shrink-wrapped around his body.
“You’re going to freeze,” she said.
“I haven’t got far to go,” he replied casually, like the icy wind wasn’t slicing straight through him. He didn’t add that ‘not far’ meant a suite at the Plaza on Fifth Avenue. He couldn’t tell her that without giving away more than one secret.
Still, she was biting her lip now, staring at the way his soaked top clung to his skin, and he didn’t miss the heat in her gaze.
A block ahead, she pointed suddenly. “Come on.”
Christian followed her into a narrow discount menswear store, the bell above the door jingling wildly. Warmth enveloped them, thick and dry and filled with the scent of new fabric and leather.
Merry shook the rain out of her hair, scanning the displays. “You need something warmer to wear, stat.”
“I’m fine,” he said, voice rough.
She ignored him, grabbing a rack of thick, plain zip-up sweaters near the register and holding up a green one to his chest. Her fingers brushed against him and Christian felt desire ripple under his skin.
He froze, breath caught in his throat as her knuckles grazed the wet fabric clinging to his body. His thin jumper was plastered to him, rain-slicked and sort of translucent, doing nothing to hide the fact that he was more than a little built. She looked up at him then, meeting his gaze, and there was something in her eyes that turned his blood to heat.
“I’ll try it,” he said, his voice coming out hoarser than he’d intended. He reached for the sweater, and when their hands met again it was like his whole body keyed up.
He hadn’t been touched in months. He’d been too busy working, too lost in the rhythm of building and fixing and helping others. The connection, that slow, crackling voltage, had sneaked up on him. And now that it was here, he didn’t want to let go.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, already backing towards the changing room as she watched him go.
He stepped into the cramped cubicle and closed the curtain, the overhead light buzzing faintly above him. His jumper was drenched and stuck to his skin. He peeled it off slowly soas not to damage the zip-up, shivering slightly at the sudden temperature shift. The mirror in front of him was a bit too close for his liking, but he wasn’t mad at what he saw. Water glistened on his skin, his abs contracting instinctively as he pulled the sweater over his arms. But he didn’t move to zip it up yet.
He stood there, bare-chested, water still trickling down his pecs, trying to breathe through the heat that was pooling low in his stomach. All because a woman had touched him through his clothes and looked at him like she wouldn’t mind doing it again. It was ridiculous.
“Get a grip, Christian,” he whispered at himself.
The curtain whipped aside.
“Sorry, what did you—” Merry froze, words dying in her throat as her eyes landed squarely on his bare chest.
Christian stood rooted to the spot, his abs on full display through the unzipped sweater, rain still tracing lazy paths down his torso. For a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them crackled.
Her gaze dragged down his chest, stalled somewhere around his stomach, then snapped back up like she’d just remembered he had a face that she was supposed to be looking at.
“Oops,” she said, voice a little too high. “I thought you were talking to me. Sorry. Kind of.”
“I wasn’t.” Heat crept up his neck. “But, uh, I’m not mad about the misunderstanding.”
“Neither am I,” she murmured, still staring, not even bothering to hide it now. “Jeez, Louise.”
Christian let out a soft laugh that hummed low in his chest. “Enjoying the view?”
Her gaze snapped back up again. This time she looked mortified.
