Page 19 of Straight Shooter

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.”