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Having the heat from Colton’s skin right next to hers had warmed her all the way to her core before his breath made her break out in goosebumps.
He saw her tremble and scowled. Snatching the sunglasses that were useless when it was just the two of them, he folded them angrily. One of the arms snapped off in his hand and he threw them to the ground.
“You shouldn’t litter,” Shea told him.
For a second, she thought that Colton was going to shoot back a reply. To her surprise, he swooped down, grabbed the broken sunglasses and stormed back toward the garbage can stowed near the entrance. He threw the broken glasses away, then jogged back to her.
By the time he returned, her trembles had turned into full-blown shakes. It was super cold out and she was definitely underdressed for the weather. Shea hugged herself, trying to provide some body heat, though she warmed up a little when she caught sight of the heated look Colton gave her.
Well, her chest.
By wrapping her arms around her middle, she inadvertently cupped her tits together, lifting them high and showing off the deep cleavage that formed. As if she’d tucked a magnet beneath her dress, his gaze seemed pulled right there.
This was Colton. When Julian did it, she longed for her coat, for something to cover herself up with. With her scowly shifter… Goddess help her, she hugged herself a little tighter.
It didn’t last. As if it finally hit him, it finally dawned on him that he was staring openly at her tits, Colton lifted his head.
He gave it a clearing shake, his expression closed off as he snapped, “I don’t like this, Shea. This isn’t the kind of place for you.”
He wasn’t wrong. Shea much preferred to stay in, reading a good book, or binge-watching the latest season of the Great American Hex-Off on Witchflix. Forget the pretty satin dress. Give her a pair of sweats and her cozy kitty slippers and she was set.
Of course, she wasn’t going to give Colton the satisfaction of admitting that. And, since she was hesitant to tell a lie and test her shields, she told him the truth.
“How would you know?” she dared. Some of her repressed anger toward Colton’s hot and cold behavior—as well as the nerves that hadn’t settled yet from meeting Julian—slipped out in her angry retort. “You don’t know anything about
me!”
He stared down at her for a heartbeat. She refused to look away, or even blink as he watched her closely. It was hard—but she won. Colton caved first. He glanced away, peering over at the entrance to Bloodlust, then back at her.
A frown tugged on his lips a second before he moved toward Shea. Colton slipped his arm over her shoulder, tucking her into his side as he turned his back on the club.
“I know enough,” he told her, “except for why you’re dressed like that in fucking November. You’re freezing.”
“Sorry,” she said sullenly, trying half-heartedly to duck out from under his arm. Half-heartedly because, deep down, she knew he was a protector. He was safe. She didn’t have to be… polite. “We can’t all grow a fur coat when it gets a little nippy out.”
He gave her bare arm a gentle squeeze. “Where’s your jacket?”
“It’s in the car.”
“Where’s that?”
She shivered again. It was hard to control it with him so damn near. “Somewhere in the back.”
They were in the front. Colton hesitated, then tucked her closer, sharing his heat with her as he continued to hustle her away from the club. She stopped fighting him because, oh Goddess, he smelled so good and he was so, so warm. Shifters always ran hot, especially Colton since he was an arctic wolf. She heard him mention once that he thrived in the cold.
Not Shea.
That was why she’d worked hard to convince Hudson to let her take her jacket inside. She’d lost—surprise, surprise—and was paying for it now. Colton’s warmth seeped all the way to her bones. She closed her eyes in bliss. Just for a moment—but that had been enough when she opened her eyes and saw how quickly he was putting ground between the two of them and Bloodlust.
“Hold on. Where are we going?”
He didn’t answer her. Of course not. Why would he when he had questions of his own that he expected her to answer.
“How did you get here?” Colton asked in a barely contained growl, weaving through the packed lot. “The car? Is it yours or—”
“It’s my brother’s.”
“Good.”
