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“I want to get married. Just not to him,” her voice was almost lost on the whipping wind, but those words came to me loud and clear.

She wants to be married. And so do I.

Now as I gaze at her in the flickering golden light of the fireplace, I think back to what I said earlier.

“Not as if a woman is going to come roaring into your life and let you have her, now, is it?”

“Well shit. Maybe one did after all, Biscuit,” I whisper in wonder.

“Biscuits,” her voice moans as she shifts on the couch, “I want some. I am so hungry. Cold. You made me warm but not now. I want to be warm,” she pouts as she stretches her long legs out and reaches for me with‘come here’wiggles of her hands.

It is avery badidea. Maybe one of my worst. But I can’t help it. I go to her, kneeling beside her on the floor. When her soft tits press against my chest, I groan at the feel of her nipples scraping against my chest.Not because she is turned on, Shep. She is freezing. I need to get her out of those clothes, but I can’t do that with her passed out. It would be wrong.

“Hey, babydoll, you need to get out of these wet clothes. Don’t want you to get sick. Let me get you some clothes. I will call the doc tomorrow,” I whisper, brushing her tangled, raven hair back from her beautiful face.

“Hmm, warm. Warm biscuits. You smell so good,” she whispers, rubbing her face against my chest as she snuggles in, letting me lift her hair from its tangle in her top.

“You smell good too,” I say back, smiling at how awful I am for flirting with an injured woman. She won’t even remember it and if she does, she will think I am a fucking creep.

“Hypothermia,” she says with a frown on her face. “I might get hypothermia. I have a concussion. Don’t let me fall asleep.”

Her eyes blink open and flicker to meet mine. I am punched in the gut by the golden sparkle in their clear depths.Green. I was right. I take a shaky breath and nod, knowing she is likely right. About the concussionandthe hypothermia.

“Right, babydoll. No falling asleep yet. Let me get you some fresh clothes. Tell me your name, doll,” I urge gently, brushing her hair back from her face.

“Oh, you are pretty,” she murmurs, blinking up at me, “can I touch your face?” she requests before she reaches up, not waiting for me to say yes. Of course, she can touch my face. She can touch any part of me she damn well wants to. Far as I am concerned, the minute those eyes locked on me, it all belonged to her.

Her nails are painted a bright neon pink, shaped as if she does them often. I recall her bike had the same pink on the tires. Those nails come to my beard, and she combs her fingers through the thickness of it. My cock leaps to life when her hands touch me. Thinking of those painted nails closing around my cock as she strokes me, lying bare beneath me, has me almost blowing in my boxers.

Jesus Christ, what the hell is going on with me?

“Clothes, pretty face,” she reminds me, blinking up at me as she bites at her bottom lip, “I ought to go naked. They say it’s better but, I think it would be safer if I put something on.”

“Yes. Yeah. Safer. For me.”

I start to pull from her to go get some clothes, but she pouts. Without hesitation, I push back against her. I am not behaving like I should, I know that. But as she gazes up at me, I know I will do anything this woman asks of me. When I press close so I can warm her up, we share a sigh.

“Did I say you smell good, pretty face?” she husks.

“Yeah, babydoll, you did. Let me get you something warm to wear. Get you some food. You can tell me what you were doing up here, during a storm, on that bike.”

Before she can pout again and put me back on my knees, I rush to my bedroom. Tearing open dresser drawers and the closet, I look for a change of clothes. Snagging a thick pair of sweats and a long-sleeved thermal top, I hurry back to her.

When I get there, she is sitting up, holding her head in her hands. I stop midway to her to catch my breath. The blanket I wrapped her in when I laid her down hangs at her shoulders. Beneath it, she is bare. Thinking of all that silky porcelain skin under that blanket has me nearly mad with need.

“Here you go,” I say gently as I reach her, kneeling as I set the clothes beside her, “get dressed while I get a first aid kit. Don’t move.At all. I will be back. Do you want anything else?”

Her eyes swing to me and something tells me that yes, she wants something else. That is why she is up here on my mountain. But she pulls her hands away and they are tinged red with blood. Her eyes glitter with tears and my chest feels cracked open. I bend my head and press my lips to her forehead, my hands going to cradle the back of her head.

“No. I know you will take care of me. How do I know that? I don’t know you,” her voice trembles as I brush my lips over her brow.

“Iwilltake care of you babydoll. Shepard Black. I live up here by myself. Well, with Biscuit. I mean no one else before you. I won’t hurt you, babydoll. I will take care of you until you....until you don’t need me to take care of you.”

Saying that feels like forcing poison out of my mouth. I’m unsure what has come over me, but I can’t stand the idea of her hurting. Or of anyone else getting to take care of her when shedoeshurt. Kissing her forehead again, I go to the kitchen to wash her blood off my hands and grab the first aid kit.

At the sink, I see my hands are shaking.What the shit?I’ve been in battle, seen people die, hell I’ve taken a few lives during my time in. But seeing her blood on my hands makes me sick to my stomach. I need to get my shit together. I cannot scare her or freak her out more than she must be already. I said I would take care of her and that is what I need to do.

“Shepard,” she calls as I dig the medical kit out of high cabinet, “it suits you. I like it. I may not make sense for a while. Concussions will do that. I am Sami. I mean, you can call me Samantha but no one else does.”


Tags: Dee Ellis Romance