said, “It’s not my leg that pains me.” But it wasn’t only the words he’d stupidly said, it was the way he said them that made Sophie pause, one hand at his back and the other on his chest, only the red robe’s lapel between his skin and hers.
“Oh?” she hesitated, her gaze on the floor. “Is it your ribs?”
The very stupidest thing he could do was to admit the real reason for his current state. And if she didn’t get her hands off his person in the next five seconds, words wouldn’t be needed at all. “Yes.”
“Well, you need to sit down and get warm. Shivering will hardly do you any good.”
He let her lead him to the chair in front of the fire, his conscience not nearly as heavy as his growing erection.
“Close your eyes,” she said, her hands on the ties of her petticoats.
Gladly, he thought as he dipped his head and closed his eyes. It would be the end of his straining control if he were to see any more skin than she already showed. He heard the rustle and slap of fabric and bit down on his bottom lip. Hard.
“Damnation,” she swore.
Damnation indeed. Blake sighed. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. No. Damn these cold fingers.”
“Do you need help?” He should have bitten his tongue off.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He gave her a moment and when her litany of curses continued, he opened his eyes and lifted his head. Big mistake. Huge mistake.
Sophie stood before the fire, her back to the warming flames, her fingers at the tiny buttons that ran from the valley of her breasts almost to where he imagined her navel. It would have been marginally bearable but for the fact that the wet fabric was so sheer that he could see the tiny mole to the left of one dusky nipple.
She must have felt his stare. When she looked up, her blue eyes deepened and her hands moved to cover her chest. This just presented more problems. Only one of a good many. Now she cupped her breasts—her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkled, her skin glistened. She looked every part the siren.
“I think you do require assistance.”
As she shook her head, wet hair slid over her bare shoulders and left tiny droplets on her pale skin. “I don’t. You need to sit...and...and...close your eyes.”
If there had been any strength behind the command he would have sat back down and tore his gaze from her form. But there wasn’t. Thank God.
He stepped toward her, waited for her to say no, to put a stop to what they both knew was the inevitable next step. Because he laid some claim to manners still, he gave her one more chance. “Will you let me help you?”
“It’s not a good idea,” she whispered.
“Please?” He took another step. Here he could breathe her in. Fresh rain and the soap she used to wash her hair heightened his awareness. Not that it needed it. It was almost as if the world outside this room ceased to exist the moment he’d closed the door. “Sophie?”
Slowly, so slowly that he nearly swallowed his tongue, her hands dropped to her sides, her chin rose and she nodded.
“You have to be sure,” he said as he took that final step.
“I’m sure.”
Chapter Fifteen
Truth be told, Sophie shivered less from the cold than the anticipation. It ran from her neck, down her spine, into her legs, so she felt it clear to her feet. She had to resist the urge to curl her toes against the smooth timber boards.
Right here, right now, she wanted Blake and no other man would do. She’d had to endure his close proximity for a week, touch his skin to check his wounds, tolerate his eyes on her every move. The flex and shift of his muscles fascinated her and she wanted to know how his body would react when he leaned over her, pressed her into the mattress and drove her to oblivion.
It was a bad idea. He didn’t even like her. But none of that mattered when he placed both of his huge warm hands against her flushed cheeks, tipped her head back and touched his lips to hers. At first his kiss was gentle, protective, caring; he didn’t crowd or push her.
She sighed again and leaned into him. He treated her with such reverence and she wanted to let him, but when she touched her tongue to his, the fire grew in her belly to