It may be June, but the temperature is in the low fifties, and it’s a good twenty-minute walk here on a good day. Today is the exact-fucking-opposite of a good day. The rain is frigid. It’s been hailing on and off for hours.
“W-w-w-what?”
“Warming you up,” I growl, answering her question before she can finish it. I carry her into the primary suite and then straight through to the bathroom. As soon as we’re over the threshold, I set her on the vanity and grab a fluffy black bath towel. “Your skin is like ice. We need to get you out of these clothes and get you into something warm and dry.”
Her teeth chatter again.
I wrap the towel around her, chafing her arms with it to sop up as much excess water from her skin as I can. She tries to help but shakes too hard to be helpful. I set my jaw, clenching my teeth to keep from snarling like a wild beast.
The cop in me is ready to demand answers. Raven is smart. Too smart to pull a stunt like this. The overprotective man who thinks about her endlessly wants to cuddle her close and fix whatever drove her here. And the possessive, autocratic asshole wants to spank her perfect ass. I’m all three at once, warring for control.
She’s trembling too hard to help me strip her wet clothes from her body. I try like hell not to look at her soft curves, and the tantalizing peeks of porcelain skin beneath my rough hands, but I can’t help but see them. I can’t help but see her.
Brantley, you son of a bitch. You’re supposed to be here. You’re supposed to stop this.
Except…he’s not. He can’t.
At this point, I’m not even sure heaven itself could stop me from claiming this little songbird as my own. God help us both; I’m not sure anything can.