Page 3 of The Billionaire's Naughty List

“Thanks.” She slips her arms into the holes, but her shivering intensifies. “It’s so warm-mm.”

“Let’s get you inside.”

She nods, some of the humor leaving her eyes, and she starts past me. Her boots are filled with water and every step makes a terrible sloshing sound. I can only imagine how cold her toes are.

“Fire sounds go-ood right about n-now.”

“I bet.” I shouldn’t be mad, but I am. There’s so much going on in my head. It’s hard, almost impossible, to latch onto a singular train of thought.

But my chest is tight, gripped with anxiety. And my mind won’t shut-up with the what-ifs.

What the hell is she doing out here, barely dressed, standing so close to the lake? I'm not that surprised, honestly. She's always been a force of nature, coming and going as she pleases. Filling the world with laughter and the sweetest smiles.

We’re halfway up the incline when her boots hit an icy patch and she slides backward with a yelp. I put out my hands to hold her up and grab two perfect round globes covered in sopping velvet.

“Up. Now.” I push her the rest of the way until we’re standing next to the tree.

My fingers are cold. So are my ears and my nose. I crouch in front of her and unzip one of her boots and then the other. “Kick them off, okay?”

“What?”

I rise to my full height and she cranes her neck, arms wrapped around her waist as she shivers, staring up at me with pinched brows and a dropped jaw. Fuck, it’s cold out here.

I scoop her up, high against my chest. “Kick them off.”

Biting her lip, she does as I ask and then I double time it back to the house. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and her icy fingers brush my neck.

Heaven help me.

Her gorgeous young body is wracked with shivers. It’s like holding a vibrating teddy bear. Except that she looks nothing like a teddy bear. And I’ve never felt this protective over a toy.

Which, as a geek who loved his Star Wars merch, is saying something.

After scrubbing my boots on the mat, I bend down and she reads my mind, immediately reaching for the doorknob. That shouldn’t be a turn on. It shouldn't make me think of a wedding night and carrying her over the threshold to our honeymoon.

It simply shouldn’t.

But it does.

She twists the knob and gives the door a little shove. I nudge it open with my boot, hustle through, then kick it shut before stalking down the hall to my suite. I have no idea which room she’s staying in and it’s second nature to push my way into the large bathroom.

“Here,” I say, setting her on the vanity. It can’t be any colder than the lake.

She’s slow to let go. Poor woman is half-frozen already.

“Let me turn on the shower and we’ll warm you up. Okay? Slowly,” I add.

She sends me a sour look and her hands drop to her lap.

Of course she knows how important it is to warm up slowly and not shock the system.

“I’m not five.”

And there it is. The reason I’m here and not at one of the most important meetings of my career.

“Trust me, honey, I know.”

I know thatalltoo well.

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