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His expression darkens and he looks at me carefully.
“You look pale, and I think you need to go lie down. Now,” he adds with authority.
I nod slowly, too weak to disagree. Sluggishly while still holding the counter for support, I turn around and start making my way out of the kitchen.
“Here, let me help you,” he growls. Before I can protest, Matt is pulling me toward him, his brawny arm winding its way around my waist. I try to pull away from his strong hold, but I feel weak and find myself needing to lean against his hard frame.
But even more than feeling weak, I like the feel of Matt Harrison’s arm around my waist, how his hand rests on my hip, and how I have to lean on him.
He smells like fire and cedar and man, I think headily.
I cringe and Matt tightens his grip. God the toxins really are getting to me.
I try not to think too much more about how I’m pressed up against his muscled mass as we carefully begin to snake our way through the dark house. In his other hand, Matt holds the kerosene lantern, and while it provides some light, it still makes for slow going.
We both hesitate at the bottom of the stairs. Matt, probably because he’s unfamiliar with the house, and me because I’m a little too familiar.
We can both fit on the narrow staircase side by side, but I know it’s going to be a tight walk up them. Our bodies will be pressed close together, and that thought alone secretly thrills me.
But my excitement is just as quickly followed by an internal reprimand. He’s Marky’s dad, I hiss to myself. You know, the guy you were supposed to marry up until three days ago?
With that humbling realization, I pull away from Matt. He drops his arm and in the dark I think I see what almost appears to be regret cross over his face.
“I think I can get upstairs on my own,” is my mutter.
Warily, I grip the bannister and climb the first step.
Big mistake. Without Matt’s steady support, I feel even dizzier than I had just moments ago. Before I can fall, however, Matt is gripping me tightly.
“Just let me help you get to bed, Cora.” He sounds exasperated so I give in.
What are a few stairs? It’s not like he’s thinking the same taboo thoughts. Determined to control my forbidden feelings for this man, I hold onto Matt tightly as we slowly ascend the staircase.
As he did before, Matt’s thick arm is wound around my waist and his hand rests against my hip. Even as I try to press into the bannister to provide a little distance between our bodies, it’s pointless. And with Matt holding my waist so tightly, the jacket, which was already comically short to begin with, is now hiked up well above my panties, revealing my soft shadow.
Thank god it’s too dark for him to really see.
Finally, we reach the top of the stairs and I lead us into the master bedroom. Once in the room, Matt lets go of me and I don’t know whether to feel relieved or sad by the action.
He goes to the bed and pulls back the covers.
“Get in.” His words are harsh, but strangely, I find them comforting. Part of me wants to know what he’ll do if I refuse, but I’m honestly too tired to even attempt to disobey.
Sluggishly, as if in a dream, I unzip the bulky jacket and drop it onto the floor next to the bed. Just as slowly, I finally make my way onto the bed and under the covers. Almost immediately I start shivering against their frigid stiffness.
Fortunately, Matt tucks the covers around me tightly, like a cozy cocoon. But I’m still trembling from cold, and as seems to always be the case with Matt, he notices immediately.
“Are there more blankets in the cabin?”
“Linen closet,” I tell him through my chattering teeth. “Right across the hall.” I gesture vaguely to the doorway.
“Be right back.”
I watch Matt go to the little closet and retrieve a large comforter from the shelf, along with another quilt. He returns and puts first the comforter and then the quilt on top of me.
“I’m so cold,” I chatter, unable to control my wavering voice.
Matt sits down next to me on the bed and starts rubbing my body vigorously over the many blankets. His efforts seem to help because I can feel my shaking start to ease.
“You’re not just shivering because it’s cold in here, Cora,” he tells me gently. “You’re in shock. The fire was a threat and adrenaline started pumping through your body in response.” Matt continues his rubbing down the length of my body and it’s strangely soothing despite his vigorous touch. “But now that the danger is over, your body should return to normal. Just relax, sweetheart.”
