Page 93 of The Illicit Play
Plus, I was too caught up in the fun to notice how cold she was getting.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
As soon as I reach the shallow water, I plant my feet and turn to wrap my arm around her waist. Her skin is covered in goose bumps, and she’s shaking so badly, she can barely walk. Supporting her against me, I guide us to her quick-dry towel and wrap it around her shoulders. It’s pretty small and doesn’t even reach around her body.
Shit.
“You need to towel yourself dry.” I rub her arms and back, working the towel over her body.
“O-o-okay.” Her teeth are chattering so much, she almost doesn’t get the word out. With quivering hands, she tries to pat herself dry, but she’s never gonna warm up in time.
I need to get the fire going. I need to get her warm.
My brain starts running through all the first-aid courses I’ve sat through, and I whip off my rash guard, quickly toweling my chest before pulling her against me.
Skin on skin is the best way to warm her up. I start rubbing her back, holding her shaking body and trying to get that circulation going.
A sleeping bag. Get her into a sleeping bag.
Great idea. I can wrap her in that and hold her close until she starts to defrost. Then I’ll get the fire going.
“Come on,” I whisper against her wet hair, guiding her back toward the tent.
She stands beside me, shuddering and trembling as I unzip the tent and quickly open the sleeping bag she’s already laid out. Unstrapping her saturated sandals, I support her weight as she steps out of them, then throw all caution to the wind.
“Can I take the rest of your bikini off?”
“Y-y-ye—” She gives up on the word and bobs her unsteady head.
Reaching for her bottoms, I turn my head away, forcing myself not to look as I pull the strings of her skimpy bikini. It lands on the ground with a wet thud.
And now she’s naked. Fully naked, and I’m guiding her sexy, trembling body into the tent.
Her silky white butt cheek brushes against my arm as she crawls toward the sleeping bag.
“That’s it. Lie down.”
She curls into a ball, wrapping her arms around her legs, and I secure the bag around her, rubbing the outside of it as she continues to shudder and shake.
Shit. I really need to get in there with her.
Body warmth. It’s the best thing I can offer.
Just do it, man! She needs you!
With a reluctant sigh, I step back out of the tent,quickly whipping off my wet swimsuit and rushing over to my pile of clothes in the hammock. Yanking out my dry boxer briefs, I tug them on, then clamber back over the bristling pine needles and brush off the soles of my feet before crawling back into the tiny tent.
It’s a two-person tent, but it’s way more comfortable with only one. We take up the space pretty easily, and it’s an awkward struggle to slip into the sleeping bag beside her. But I’m eventually in there, wrapping the padded material around us and pulling her against my bare chest.
Shit, she’s cold.
Goose bumps ripple over my skin, but I hold her tight, squeezing her against me and willing my heat to transfer into her.
We’re now two sardines, and I can already feel the warmth starting to permeate the cramped space.
“It’s okay,” I murmur, flattening her body against mine so that even our thighs are pressed together. “You’ll get warm soon.”
Pushing the sleeping bag against her back, I rub it vigorously, hoping the added friction will speed up this process.
