Page 7 of SEAL by Fate

Pushing his thoughts aside, he propped her on one thigh, his muscles shaking from exhaustion as he hurried to unlock the door and stepped inside the cabin. An immediate warmth enveloped him, although there was no heat on. Sliding his hand along the side of the wall, he searched for a switch to the light and finally realized he had to turn on the lamp on the side table. Once the place was aglow he didn’t waste time examining the place as he normally would, but instead laid her on the couch. He rubbed his biceps, and once the feeling was back, he grabbed a throw from the arm of the nearby chair and covered her up. Switching to proactive mode, he made a haphazard list inside his head of what he needed to do first.

Get his wet clothes off.

Kicking off his shoes and socks, he then climbed out of his heavy jeans and shrugged out of his jacket, tossing everything to the side to worry about later.

Reaching for his phone from his discarded jeans, he saw that he still didn’t have service. Throwing the phone onto the coffee table, he crossed the room to the stone fireplace and started a fire with the cut wood from the nearby basket. Once he had a blaze going and the room was warming up, he stood and took the time to finally survey his surroundings. The rustic rock fireplace was the focal point of the room, covering an entire wall with antique vases lining the mantle. Framed paintings of horses, wilderness, and wildlife dominated the walls. There was a small open kitchen which he hoped was stocked with food. A bedroom was off the kitchen where he grabbed a thicker blanket and pillow before returning to Sleeping Beauty to cover her and prop her head up.

After further investigation, he found the thermostat that was reading at a whopping fifty degrees, so he switched on the heat. With the blazing fire and furnace turned on, the place would be cozy within a half hour. Thankfully, to his appreciation, he found a few cans of food in the cabinet. Most importantly, there was also a large canister of coffee, which he quickly set the coffee maker to brew.

Going back to the woman spread out on the couch, he looked down at her, glad to see that some of her coloring was coming back to her cheeks and her lips were pink and plump. The fresh bruising on her forehead looked stark against her alabaster skin. Her blonde hair had all come loose from the top knot and now lay in a damp cascade over the pillow in soft waves. Seeing her in the light, he still thought she was stunning.

Touching her skin, she wasn’t as warm as he would like.

She’d never get warm wearing wet clothing, so he set out to remove the cold, soaked coat. The trim of the gown was torn, and spots of blood scattered the bodice. The skin exposed in the short sleeves was clammy. He debated for almost a full minute whether he should remove the dress or not, and then he blew off his hesitancy as foolishness. This was an emergency and in times like this it was safety over modesty.

Starting with her shoes…if they could be called as much. The heels were tall. So tall they could second as weapons, with dainty straps across the top of her foot and ankle and closed toe. It took him a good ten minutes to undo the stubborn clasps, but he eventually managed to get both heels off. The next thing he worked on was her thin hose. They were thigh highs and the tops were hooked to a sexy lace garter belt. It could drive a man mad to know what was underneath a gown.

With nervous fingers, he unhooked the belt clips and peeled the damp hose down her long, toned legs, making sure to pay close attention to any bruising or signs of injury. All he found was creamy white skin, delicate ankles, and pink-painted toenails. He swallowed hard and covered her legs with the warm, soft blanket.

He dragged the top of the blanket down her shoulders, staring in confusion at the bodice of the gown. He could have just as easily been staring at a straight jacket because the dress seemed as confining as one with the exception that her ample bust was lifted high above the lace and silk that seemed to embellish the mounds perfectly. Gray gently rolled her over toward the back of the sofa and his breath came out in a sigh as he took in the row of teeny tiny pearl buttons. At least thirty if he had to guess. He had sympathy for the poor bastard who would be in a hurry to get this off during the honeymoon. “This should be very fun, Sleeping Beauty.” The first one was already undone for him, but the next few were a bitch. Delicate buttons weren’t made to be unhooked by wide, clumsy fingers like his, and because he didn’t want to rip the fabric, at least more than it already was, he was painstakingly treating each button with great focus, much like if he were disarming a bomb.

By the time he was halfway, about fifteen minutes in, he’d debated the importance of worrying about the fabric when she didn’t even care enough to stick around for the ceremony. Would she care if there was another hole? Probably not, and yet he continued carefully, managing to only pop one pearl button off that was lost somewhere under the couch. Finally releasing the last button, he dragged the sleeves down her arms and sucked in a ragged breath. The dark tips of her nipples were visibly hard under the strapless lace bra. “Sorry. I’m not intentionally staring,” he said as if she might know what he was doing.

Keeping his gaze focused, he examined her for bruising and found some fresh marks on her left shoulder where she must have landed in the snow, and more marks on her wrist…but the bruising appeared much darker, as if it was already in the healing process. He could make out what looked like the outline of two fingers. His breath whizzed out of his lungs. “Who did this to you?” he whispered. “Is that why you didn’t marry him?” He investigated her face. “Hell, are you even old enough to get hitched?”

Wanting to hurry, he dragged the gown lower over her flat stomach, pausing at her navel at the diamond stud piercing.

Swallowing hard, he took a second to gain his bearings and tugged the delicate material over the flare of her hips where he found a small butterfly tattoo and lace panties that were as see-through as her bra. Feeling his throat constrict and his stomach twist, his body twitched to life. The rush of blood to his zipper made him shift uncomfortably. Although he didn’t plan this, he couldn’t have talked himself out of an erection if his life depended on it. He could see a thin trail of hair between her inner thighs. So, she was a natural blonde.

He sucked in a breath, chastising his body for reacting like this. The woman relied on him to keep her safe, not admire how beautiful her body looked laying there stretched out on the couch. Or how pretty and delicate her features were, or the softness of her hair. Or how that diamond stud lured him like a lighthouse to a sailor. He guessed he could make the butterfly’s wings flutter. However, the rock on her fourth finger made his balls shrink.

She was engaged.

He blamed his body’s response on the fact that he hadn’t gotten laid in far too long. He’d been too busy chasing criminals, which made him seem pathetic. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to have sex, but while he was working a case he kept his brain in the game and his dick in his pants. That had always been his motto. Finding pleasure during dangerous assignments could land a man in big trouble, or dead.

Giving his head a shake, he stayed concentrated on removing the gown the rest of the way and quickly pulled the blanket all the way up to her chin.

“There, you should get warm now.”

She didn’t stir.

“I’ll run and find a first aid kit. I hope this place has one.”

Hurrying down the darkened hallway, he found the bathroom and looked all around the space that was almost as large as the rest of the house. The large jacuzzi tub dominated the area and red rose petals were scattered on the floor. Searching through every cabinet and drawer, just his luck he found a first aid kit in the last one.

Returning to the living room, he sat on the couch next to her hip and began examining the injury on her head. The blood had dried and matted her hair. Although the cut had bled a lot, the wound itself wasn’t bad and didn’t require stitches. There was a bump and it was possible that she had suffered a concussion which was why she was sleeping.

Goosebumps scattered her skin and her teeth chattered.

“Are you still cold?” he whispered.

She wasn’t out of the woods yet.

So, after he cleaned the wound and placed a small bandage on her head, he joined her on the couch. It was a narrow fit, but once he slid her over, there was just enough space for him to lay down beside her if they cuddled close. He had no problem with this idea, but he hoped she would understand that this was the quickest way to raise body temperature. As a SEAL, he’d been in situations where his team had huddled close to stay alive. Although he couldn’t rightly compare those times to holding this woman. There weren’t many situations he could compare to this.

Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her into the spoon of his body and not surprising, she fit perfectly. She was cold to the touch, and he hoped his warmth, their combined warmth, would raise her temperature. He pressed his feet against hers and he jerked. This was much like snuggling an icicle. To hasten the outcome, he rubbed her arm, her hip, leg, and her shoulders, finally starting to feel the heat.

A moan sounded from deep within her chest and he lifted on elbow to look down at her profile. Her eyes were still closed. Her thick lashes were so long they brushed the tops of her cheeks that were scattered with pale freckles. One corner of her mouth lifted as if she found something humorous. Picking up a tendril of her hair, he twirled the silken strand around his finger and brought it to his nose to catch the scent. Vanilla. No, honey vanilla. Letting the strand fall back to the rest of the mass, he ran his knuckles along her cheek admiring how soft her skin was.

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