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I’m beyond angry with her for not only trying to escape, but for putting her life in danger. She’s a damn fool. When this is over, I’ll teach her a lesson she’ll never forget.
Then I hear it. Like the roll of thunder clashing with the snap of a whip. One moment the girl’s there, and the next she disappears, swallowed by the lake.
My heart stops.
The world around me seems to slow.
Everything pauses, as if holding its breath, before sharply inhaling. One moment I’m on the shore and the next I’m diving into the frigid water.
The shock to my body causes momentary paralysis, before instinct takes over and I swim for the sake of survival. Except I’m not headed up for air, I’m moving deeper, desperately seeking the mindless creature who sank like a fucking stone.
My lungs begin to burn. My muscles are so cold they start to cramp.
Where the fuck is she? I refuse to surface without her. This stupid girl is going to kill us both.
Finally, my fingertips brush against cold, wet fur, and I know I’ve found her. Gripping her arm, I tug her upward until I can grab her around the waist. Then I kick off from the lake’s floor and break through the water’s icy surface. More frigid air assaults my lungs.
Sophia coughs and sputters as I drag her from the water. She’s breathing, which means that my search for her must have not taken that long. Though it felt like I was underwater for ages. Since drowning didn’t kill either of us, my guess is that the cold will, soon enough.
We have to get back to the house.
I lift her into my arms. She weighs a ton in that drenched fur coat, so I tear it from her back and haul her against my chest. Carrying her bridal style, her small body shaking uncontrollably against mine, I make it back to the mansion in mere minutes.
At least she’s continuing to shiver, that’s a good sign.
I climb the stairs two steps at a time, ignoring the wet, muddy footprints I’m leaving in my wake, and the water droplets dripping from both of us. Once I reach my bedroom, I nudge the door closed with my boot.
The girl is shaking so hard she can barely stand. So I hold her upright while stripping the sodden clothes from her quaking body. Her teeth clatter so loudly they drown out all other sound in the room. Her skin is cool to the touch.
Her eyes are closed, but she’s conscious, barely. Not lucid enough to resist me as I manipulate her body. I’m sure if she was fully herself, she’d be fighting me right now, even though it would do her more harm than good.
This isnothow I envisioned the first time I undressed my fiancée.
Scooping her up, I lay her in my bed, beneath the thick comforter. Then I make quick work of discarding my own clothing and slide under the covers with her. I haul her body against mine. My arms and legs wrap around her petite frame.
While I’m not that much warmer than her, Iamwarmer. The exertion of jogging home, carrying her in my arms, has managed to stave off the worst of the cold. Plus, I’m naturally hot-blooded.
My natural internal inferno soon heats our little cocoon. The girl shivers and chattering teeth begin to subside, her body relaxing into mine, and I inhale her pleasant honey scent.
At any moment, I expect her to pull away. To regain her senses and try to escape my hold. Instead, she snuggles into my chest as her breathing grows steady, indicating she’s asleep. I quickly check her pulse. It’s strong and steady. She’ll be fine in the morning.
Not an inch of space separates our flesh from one another. Her skin is warm and smooth against mine. I sweep damp hair away from her face while I hold her. She feels amazing in my arms, so much so that I don’t even mind the way her hair has drenched my pillow. Careful not to wake her, I swap it for a dry one.
Now that we’re both out of immediate danger, questions plague me. Why did she run? Besides the obvious answer: She doesn’t want to be here. But is that reason enough to risk her life in the woods, in the snow?
I don’t think so.
Perhaps she’s more impractical and dim-witted than I originally thought. Which is a pity. She’s gorgeous, but obviously not very bright.
Though the way she spoke to me in the kitchen, and the defiance she showed at her father’s house, suggests she does in fact have a sense of self-preservation. I see intelligence in her eyes—especially when she’s glaring daggers at me. So why would she do something this stupid?
I bury my nose in her hair, drinking in that summer honey scent, and my eyelids fall closed. Since she’s asleep it’s easy to pretend she wants to be in my arms, that she’s enjoying the closeness as much as I am drinking in the sensation of making contact with another human. I don’t remember the last time I held someone like this.
Actually, that’s not true, I do remember. It’s been six years—maybe longer.
At the realization that I haven’t been naked with a woman in over half a decade, blood rushes to my cock and I’m instantly, achingly hard. I groan as it presses into the space between my abdomen and her soft stomach. My eyes roll back in my head. I bite down on my bottom lip, resisting the urge to rock my hips and spurt cum all over us. At this point, it wouldn’t take much to set me off.
I should get up. She’s safe. She doesn’t need my body heat anymore.
