“Baby, it’s too cold for you out here. You need to come and get into the SUV.”
“No, no, I can’t.”
“Will you let me hold you?”
She shook her head, another tremble running through her.
Fuck.
He wanted to just do it. His hands itched to grab her and pull her into his embrace. To carry her to the car and bundle her up, keep her warm and safe.
He hated that he couldn’t get close to her.
The only thing he could do was get her to a place where she would let him help her. He just hoped that happened sooner rather than later.
“I’m going to take my shirt off, all right? You can put it around you.”
She shot him an incredulous look, her eyes widening as he stripped off his shirt. He had a white T-shirt underneath.
“What . . . what are you doing?” she asked. “Put your shirt back on!”
“Really? But this way, you get to look at my forearms,” he teased her.
She shook her head as he held his shirt out to her. “Put that back on.”
“Rude. What? You don’t think my forearms are porn-worthy anymore?” he asked, still holding out the shirt.
Take the shirt, darling.
Take it and keep yourself warm because it’s killing me seeing you standing out in the dark, shivering with cold.
“Of course they a-are,” she said, her teeth trembling. “But y-you’re going to get cold without a shirt on.”
“I’m bigger than you are. I don’t feel the cold as bad.”
And better I feel cold than you, baby.
“Take the shirt, Bebe,” he said firmly, injecting more dominance into his voice.
To his shock, she took it without another word, slipping it on.
Okay. He could breathe easier now.
“Now, if your mother was here, what would you say to her?”
Damn, she looked adorable in his shirt.
“I’d . . . I’d tell that she’s a terrible mother,” she said without much conviction.
“Say it like you mean it. Get it out, baby. Scream it. Feel it.”
Turning back to the water, she leaned over the rail and his heart leaped into his throat. Nausea engulfed him, but she simply stared down at the water.
“You’re a terrible mother!” she yelled.
Good girl.
He let out a sigh of relief.