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Opening her eyes, she found there was very little chatter going on around her. A few others had fallen asleep in their chairs and were covered by blankets. Others had left. The fire still burned strong, and she moved to sit up, her body protesting at the slight movement.

Mitchell stiffened when she pushed away from him and angled his head to see her better.

“We should get you to bed.”

Gah, if only he meant those words like she wished. Too tired to risk opening her mouth and letting anything come out, all she could do was nod. He stared a bit longer, that blond eyebrow creeping up even as he continued to stare.

“No comment?”

Damn it. He was making her talk.

Come on, Hope. Don’t sound like a salivating hussy. Open your mouth and let smart, logical words come out.

Yep, pep talk over, she was ready. She opened her mouth and responded.

“I’m going to fall on my face once you get up. Figured I could sleep down here.”

Sparks of something flickered in his gaze and she wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t a trick of the fire. Mitchell leaned closer, allowing his rich scent to push over her and embed itself into her skin.

A place she rather liked having it.

Damn it, that wasn’t supposed to happen.

“I will carry you.”

Could something sound like a threat and horribly sexy at the same time? She was going to go with a yes.

“Ever the savior, aren’t you?”

“Only for a certain lost, injured southern woman. Let’s go, Flykra.” He rose and held out his hand.

She placed hers in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet. Seriously? How was it possible to feel worse today than she had right after the accident? Hope bit down on her lip to keep the complaint internal. Although she wasn’t positive that had been a win for her.

“Okay?”

“Nope.” She tried to pull her hand from his but he held tighter. “I’ll stay here.” Yes, definitely the best course of action. That way, she got some space from him and didn’t have to worry about pushing her whimpering, sore body.

“Are you testing me to see if I’ll actually carry you?” His breath feathered along the shell of her ear and the side of her neck. “Because, Hope, I will sweep you off your feet and carry you up those fucking stairs—without a shred of hesitation.”

“Every woman’s fantasy.”

“Perhaps it’s mine as well.”

His words reverberated through her and she stiffened. No, no, no. It doesn’t do me any favors to think about this man more than I’m doing already.

He began moving her to the stairs and she realized what he was doing at the bottom one. The air was decidedly colder but she didn’t feel it, not with the heat emanating from him. They began climbing and her body protested every move she made.

Chapter Three

Something was against him. Warm. Lush. Enticing. Mitchell cracked open his eyes and saw there was still a fire burning in the room, allowing him to see without turning on a light. Not that it was possible with the loss of power, but at least he wasn’t blind.

Tipping his head slightly, he clamped his teeth down on the moan which slipped from his throat. Hope was in his arms. Where their pillow barrier had gone, he couldn’t say. What he could admit—only to himself—was that he couldn’t be happier it had vanished.

Goddamn, this woman was perfect against him. She shifted with a tiny whimper and snuggled closer to his chest. It was then he realized her hands were up under his shirt, pressing against his back.

The part of him that had yet to recover from his ex-wife demanded he put as much distance between himself and Hope as he could. A feeling and instinct he had a reasonable desire to follow. Right? He wasn’t positive, because the rest of him wanted to burrow closer to Hope, wrap his arms tighter, and keep her safe.

She wanted nothing from him. At least not yet. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep the other residents of the place from blurting out who he was. Then again, she might already know he was an ex-NBA player and was trying to be coy.

But that didn’t feel right. This wasn’t a woman who played coy or acted underhanded. His gut didn’t believe her to be capable of that. However, as his gut was the one that had gotten him his first wife, maybe it wasn’t the best judge of character.

Darkness still reigned outside and he could hear the wind slamming into the storm windows. Even though they had no power, he was perfectly warm—being pressed up against Hope along with the fire in the room and the blankets did wonders for his body temperature.

For a few seconds, he debated powering up his laptop and getting some work done. He did have good battery life on it, but he didn’t want to drag himself out of bed and away from the curvaceous woman he currently held in his arms. While he loved designing video games, he wasn’t a fool and the chance to cuddle with a woman, something he’d not done in years, spoke to him on a level he didn’t even know he had. Hell, he hadn’t realized something this simple was something he missed. He had the perfect opportunity to indulge himself. Without any expectations. He wasn’t going to do anything he would regret later, but right now, he was going back to sleep.

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