Page 45 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bride

I pull it off over her head, and her eyes flutter open and meet mine.

Unfocused. Confused. Terrified.

Me too, Lyla.

I brush my fingers across her abdomen, above her pants, reluctant to do what needs to be done. “We need to get you undressed and warmed up.”

She bobs her head again and fumbles with the button and zipper on her jeans with fingers that won’t seem to work. I reach down and do it for her, and she wraps her arms around my neck to steady herself.

Instantly, I freeze, my entire body stiffening at the contact. Though, it isn’t only her ice-cold skin pressed to mine that sends goosebumps over me. My instinct to pull away wars against the knowledge that Ihaveto do this. My old demons threaten to interfere with the current necessity, but I have to push them away if I want her to survive.

Just breathe, Silas.

Repeating that in my head, I shift the material down over her ass, and she uses me for leverage to lift herself from the floor so I can maneuver them down her thighs to her calves, where the shoes she’s still wearing stop my progress.

I manage to peel them off and toss them onto the floor, then tug her pants off, letting the soaked material splat against the wood floor.

Don’t look.

It’s hard not to as I scoop her up in her bra and panties and swing her over the metal edge of the tub. She clings to my neck, refusing to let go, using what little strength she has left to ensure I can’t set her in the tub.

“You need to let go, Lyla.”

She presses herself closer to me, undoubtedly seeking what little body heat I have and not realizing what I’m trying to do.

There isn’t any time to argue with this woman.

“Fuck.”

I step over the metal side, sinking down into the tepid water with my boots and jeans still on. Even the minor difference in the temperature instantly heats my bare skin—exactly what she needs to get hers up—but we need to do thisveryslowly and carefully, or I’ll end up doing more damage than actually helping.

She presses her face against my neck, arms still linked around me, chest to mine, and her body curled on my lap as the water rises around us. Violent tremors still wrack her body, and I hold her firm, rubbing my hand along her chilly arms and back, trying to get the blood circulating through her again.

Water laps close to the edge of the tub, and I use my booted foot to nudge the hot and cold water off before it overflows. I hold her close for what feels like an eternity. Sheer terror that I might do this wrong or too fast and kill her keeps me from moving except to continue gliding my hands along her body, hoping the friction will somehow help.

Only the steady rise and fall of her chest against mine assures me I haven’t fucked it up too badly yet—but there’s plenty of time for that.

I let a few more minutes pass, until she relaxes slightly and the tremors seem to come less frequently. Tightening my grip on her, I bend forward, taking her with me to unplug the drain and let out some of the water.

She moans a protest at being lifted, but I press my lips to her temple.

“Shhh. It’s all right. It’s going to get warmer.”

I crank the hot water back on, letting it mix with what’s left in the tub, then slowly lower us back down into it.

Lyla releases a little sigh as it engulfs her again, and the gradually increasing temperature starts to help her skin feel less chilly against my own.

The tiniest bit of relief starts to fill my chest as the water inches toward the edge of the tub, threatening to spill over onto the pine floors. I kick the hot water handle off and sink as low as I can, getting Lyla fully submerged, only her face against my neck above the waterline.

Her light breath flutters against my beard, and she shifts restlessly against me, inadvertently grinding down on my crotch. I grit my jaw, tightening my hold on her so I can adjust her slightly and nuzzling my face into her thick, damp hair.

The image of her huddled against the log, her normally pink lips almost blue, skin a deathly pallor, flickers through my head, and I squeeze my eyes closed against the panic I’ve barely managed to dispel as it threatens to return.

I almost lost her…

“What were you thinking, Lyla?”

In the quiet stillness of the bathroom, my words sound as hollow as I felt when I saw her like that. Knowing it was my fault—that someone else got hurt because of another massive failure on my part.

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