Page 9 of The Fake Fiancé

It should be impossible, but it’s not…because it's Adam, and I’m rapidly coming to learn nothing is impossible for him.

He reaches me, the lower half of his face covered to protect against the snow, but his eyes blazing with concern. "Elowen," he yells above the wind. “Are you okay?”

"I... I think my ankle is twisted," I manage, my teeth starting to chatter.

He doesn't hesitate, working silently, having already made a plan as soon as I’d gotten the words out. In minutes, he’s found my missing ski and one of my poles, and he helps me clip the skis back onto my boots. Then he helps me to stand, cursing when I cry out from the pain, but we both sag from relief when I manage to keep my feet and shuffle the skis in the snow a little. Nothing is broken. Just really, really sore.

Adam produces a length of nylon rope from somewhere on his person, and then he’s tying us together. It’s awkward with just three poles and one of my legs at half capacity, but we make it down the mountain at a snail's pace. At a few points I dramatically tell him to leave me to die, but he huffily reminds me that we’re at a ski resort, and help would come eventually. It just so happens that Adam Valmonte is faster than the rescueservice, and by the time the bright red of their uniforms comes into view, we’ve almost made it back.

The resort’s rescue team bundles me in a shiny blanket and shoves a warm drink into my hands, insisting I sit on a sled to be dragged the last few meters down. By the time we reenter the resort, I’m shivering hard, and Adam all but carries me inside.

After I promise him that my ankle is just sore and not truly twisted, Adam bypasses the medical center, the lobby, and, to my surprise, the elevator that leads to my floor. He takes a private elevator, one that leads to the penthouse suite, and the surprise cuts through the exhaustion.

“Uh?” I ask.

All I get back is, “Shh.”’

The penthouse, as expected, is enormous and mind-boggling in how luxurious everything is. My own suite is incredible, but Adam’s makes mine look like a truckstop motel room. I’m pretty sure this place could host royalty.

He leads me into a stunning bathroom, steam billowing from a large, sunken stone tub. I recall him speaking to staff on his phone before we were even back inside, and it hits me that he must have requested this to be ready for us.

For us. A bath. Oh…shit.

Instantly I shrug out from under his arm, biting the inside of my mouth so I don’t make any sound when I put too much weight on my sore ankle. I take a few steps back, out of the bathroom, breathing so fast that it’s hard to speak.

“Adam, what is going on here?”

"You need to get warm," he says as if it’s the most obvious thing on earth. And, to be fair, it probably is, but…Startled, I respond somewhat unromantically.

“I can do that in my own room!”

His jaw works, and he looks away from me for a beat, over my shoulder. I see him close his eyes and take a deep breath, hands clenching into fists and releasing a few times. He’s trying to get a hold on himself. “Elowen. You were just lostin a blizzard.I thought I’d lost you, I thought you weredead–”

Oh.Oh.

“Please. Just. Please let me take care of you. I need to know that you’re alright. I can’t rest until I know.”

It’s stupid of me, I know that, but seeing the pain that he’s in, knowing what he’s lost, and already so lost in the things I feel for him, I fold easily. Appropriateness be damned. Suddenly I want him to take care of me, too.

“...okay.” Calming myself. “Okay, Adam. I’ll stay.”

He exhales sharply, eyes opening, and then he’s stripping off his ski gear. My heart rate kicks into high gear, my mind racing as I try to figure out what exactly I’ve agreed to, but once he’s down to just his thermal underclothes, he stops, and, oh my god, I relax again.

Adam then turns to the tub, adjusting the temperature, pouring in a bottle of something that smells of lavender. A nervous, heightened energy has begun to flow between us.

"I can manage," I breathe, and he shakes his head once.

"No. Let me."

Adam is vulnerable and raw. Maybe even scared–scaredfor me–and I’m struck by how much he needs this.

Adam comes to me then, hands on my waist, and I gasp as he lifts me onto the marble bathroom counter. He kneels, hands steady as he helps me out of my wet, snow-covered clothes. His touch is careful, respectful even, but there’s no denying that he’sundressing me. I’m shivering all over again, but not because of the cold.

I want him so desperately, so much that I don’t even bother to cover myself as he grabs the hem of my thermal shirt and pulls it over my head, leaving me in just my bra. Nothing about me is chilled anymore, except for maybe the pile of my wet clothes now on the floor.

“Lift your hips.” Adam is a man on a mission, and I do as I’m told, letting him tug the fleece-lined leggings down my legs. It’s only once he’s done this and cradled my injured ankle, confirming that it’s truly okay, that I think it hits Adam that he’s nearly totally undressed me…and that he’s on his knees in front of me. He gently massages my swollen ankle, running his fingers firmly up my calf. It feels incredible. My pain is almost instantly relieved. Or maybe my mind is just instantly distracted. Even my instinctive self-conscious desire to cover the fleshier parts of my body seems to have vanished. He’s seeing me in ways I would not normally want to be seen by any man. Not so soon. Not here. Not yet anyway. But my body doesn’t seem to be of even the slightest concern to him. Apart from his desire to fix me.

He makes a low noise in his chest. I worry my bottom lip between my teeth as his hands move between my ankle and up my calf. His hands are surprisingly rough for someone aswealthy as he is, and I’m instantly covered in goosebumps. I want more, so much more.