by Alice Ward
How he knew which way to go was beyond me, but when I peeked out, I noticed a set of tracks that were quickly filling in with additional snow. He pulled something from his pocket and held it up. A blue light flashed. A GPS, I realized. I needed to get me one of those.
Some time passed before I noticed a twinkling of lights in front of us, and in those minutes the adrenaline faded, causing all the aches and pains to reintroduce themselves. Every muscle in my body sang, but it was my head that was causing the most trouble. When we hit a hole and were jarred sideways, I reached up and pressed my skull with my hands, hoping to keep my brain from jostling around too much.
“Almost there,” he promised, one arm tightening around me. And even with all that had happened, and all the uncertainty still to come, I’d never felt so safe. Ever.
When he turned off the ATV in front of the cabin, the blessed silence nearly made me groan, and before I could attempt to climb off myself, I was swooped up in his arms. Six steps later, we were on a porch then… warmth. The sudden change of temperature caused me to shudder.
“Let’s get you warmed up,” he soothed, his voice a deep rumble as he sat me down on a long sofa in front of a roaring fire. A beautiful brown dog with a wide head and calm chocolate-colored eyes came forward, tail wagging as she inspected me. Her fur was soft under my fingers as I stroked her pretty head and scratched behind her ears. Within ten seconds, I was in love.
“That’s Maggie.”
His words brought my attention back to my savior, and as I watched, he kicked off his boots and shrugged out of his jacket, his gloves and wool hat landing on the hearth. The goggles came next, revealing eyes that were the bluest I’d ever seen.
I remembered watching Beauty and the Beast as a girl and had always loved the moment when Belle saw past the monster and looked into the beast’s eyes. Not that this man was a monster. Hairy yes, but that was where the resemblance ended. The beard and long hair gave him a rugged look, but beneath them were fine bones that I wanted to trace with my fingers.
Stop it.
It must have been the brush with death and the happiness to be alive that had me thinking so sensually, so vividly. So wildly. Because of my mother and the world she lived in, I avoided sex at all costs. I’d never met a man who’d so much as stirred enough curiosity to tempt me over to that dark side. To me, sex wasn’t a beautiful thing. It wasn’t a natural thing between two people. It represented greed and power and control.
I’ll make you feel good, honey.
I shivered at the memory of those words, but refused to let my thoughts go there. I turned my gaze back to the dog, who’d plopped her broad head on my thigh, looking up at me with instant adoration.
Even though my vision was still blurred, I could see my savior unbutton a thick flannel shirt in my periphery, shrugging it from his shoulders to reveal a — good heavens — light gray t-shirt that clung to his muscular chest.
My fingers began to tremble in Maggie’s fur, and I couldn’t make them stop. And although I was getting warm, my teeth continued to chatter. I had no control over my muscles and felt like an earthquake was going off inside me.
My savior dropped to his knees in front of me, concern in his blue eyes. He untied my boots and dragged them off along with my socks, warming my toes with his hands.
“You’re going into shock, but you’ll be okay, I promise,” he soothed, his voice a low rumble. “Look at me.”
I did, and he clamped his long fingers on either side of my face to keep me steady. Nausea churned in my stomach and I swallowed hard, willing myself to keep it down. It had been humiliating enough to vomit in front of him outside. I’d be mortified to do the same inside his home. On the lovely rug in front of me. On him.
“Your pupils are uneven but are reacting to the change in light. Is your vision blurry?”
I nodded. The edges of my vision were worse than what was immediately in front of me. It made me feel claustrophobic, like I was trapped when I clearly wasn’t.
Still frowning, he unzipped my jacket and pulled it down my arms. The hat came next, and he frowned at the blood on the t-shirt I’d wrapped around my head, but he didn’t remove it. “Let’s get you out of all these wet clothes first.”
I wanted to protest but found I couldn’t as he undid the button of my jeans, then lifted me so he could pull them over my bottom and down my legs. I was still shaking uncontrollably as his fingers touched the sides of my plain cotton panties. He frowned and looked up at me. “These are wet too. We need to get them off.”
He tossed a blanket over my legs, then waited as I tried to remove them myself, but for some reason, my hands wouldn’t do what my mind was telling them to. When it was clear I couldn’t complete the simplest of tasks, he removed my underwear for me. The actions were almost clinical in their speedy precision, and he didn’t look at the white cotton as he tossed them closer to the fire.
My cheeks flamed. “Th-th-thank y-y-ou.”
He nodded, his face grim as he clenched his teeth. Pushing to his feet, he was gone then back a moment later. “Let’s get the sweater off.”
I tried to tell him I’d do it myself, but I couldn’t seem to find the hem. My head swam, and I grew hot from the effort of moving. Sweat popped out on my upper lip, and I tried to swipe it away. I missed, and my hand got tangled in my hair instead.
“I f-feel like I’m d-d-drunk,” I confessed, trying again. “But I s-swear I’ve n-not had a d-drop of alcohol.”
The sides of his mouth quirked up a little bit. “You have a concussion.” He blew out a breath. “Here. Lift your arms.”
“O-o-kay.”
I did as he told me, and soon, my sweater was over my head. The lines on his forehead only got deeper. “Your tank is soaked too.”
I didn’t know how. Surely my thick sweater and parka had kept it dry. Looking down, I saw the red staining the white cotton, realizing it was blood. My blood. I blinked as the red circled around my vision. “Is th-that all f-from m-me?”
“Yeah. Head wounds bleed like a mother. Arms back up.”
My arms felt like lead weights as I lifted them over my head. Seconds later, the tank was gone, and the heat of the fire and his eyes warmed my skin. Through a distant realization, I understood I was naked in front of a complete stranger. But it was so hard to care. The only thing that mattered was how heavy my eyelids were, and how, if only I could sleep, my head wouldn’t hurt so much. And maybe all of this was a dream, and when I woke, I’d be in my little cabin, safe and warm.
He pulled a t-shirt over my head, stuffing my arms through the arm holes like I was a child. “There.” His voice was deep and gravelly, comforting. “We’ll get you in something better later. My clothes will swallow you, but they’ll be dry. When you warm up and the shock and adrenaline fades, I’ll tend your wounds, but I think they can wait for now.” He unwrapped the bloody t-shirt and pressed a thick towel to my head. Pain exploded once again.
“Sorry,” he said, and seemed like he really meant it.
Maggie plopped down on my feet, and her warmth and weight were instantly soothing. “Sh-sh-she’s a g-good d-d-dog.”
He piled some pillows next to me, and I gratefully laid down, then snuggled under the additional blankets he placed over me. Maggie moved from her position and hopped onto the sofa, lending her warmth to my feet again. It was so sweet. Like she knew what I needed.
He patted her broad head. “She’s the best. I’m going to get you something warm to drink. Coffee okay? Sorry, but I don’t have any tea.”
I actually did prefer tea, but I’d take anything hot. “Y-yes. Th-ank you.”
But even as he walked away, his wet jeans clinging to his legs, my eyes refused to stay open. I tried to look around at the room, but the effort was too much, and soon, I was lost in the abyss once again.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alice Ward is a USA Today bestselling author whose books consistently break into the Top 100 on Amazon. Two of her books were Top 10 Amazon bestsellers, one of which - The Surprise - reached an all-time high of #4.
She writes hot and steamy contemporary romance novels and is prolific, releasing at least one new book every month. Her books are widely read, especially by women and any other lovers of the romance genre. My Stepbrother, My Lover, was her first smash hit.
Alice has been in love with love since she was a little girl. She had quite the collection of Barbie dolls growing up and spent much of her playtime crafting the perfect Barbie wedding day (and when she wasn’t doing that, she was working on attempting the perfect cartwheel).
When Alice outgrew Barbie dolls, she began to write her thoughts down in her diary. This was how she discovered that she had a knack for telling romantic stories. Her first fans were her close girlfriends, and her stories were a hit among them. They, along with her family, enthusiastically encouraged her love for writing.
Alice now lives in Miami with her wonderful, hunky husband. The beach is her all-time favorite place to relax with her laptop and write. When she needs a break from writing (and when no one’s looking) she loves thumbing through celebrity gossip magazines. It’s her guilty pleasure.
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COPYRIGHT AND DISCLAIMER
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Alice Ward
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.