He stripped Grace free of her wet clothes, doing his best to ignore how beautiful she was. The paleness of her skin and the bluish cast of her lips were more than enough to keep his head where it belonged. He laid her close to the fire, then shed his own wet jeans. The boxer briefs stayed on to remind him of boundaries in case the danger of the situation didn’t do the job.

He curled up behind her, wrapping his arms around her torso in an effort to give her as much of his body heat as possible. Her fingers still bled, but the damage didn’t seem to be too bad—certainly not worse than hypothermia.

Slowly, her skin began to warm. A pink flush bloomed in her cheeks, and she was no longer frigid to the touch. Once she started shivering, he knew she was going to be okay.

Relief would have laid him out if he hadn’t already been horizontal.

Grace shifted, turning in his arms until she faced him. Naked, fire-warmed breasts flattened against his chest, branding him in a way he was sure he’d never forget.

She lifted one leg over his, giving his thigh plenty of room to slide between hers. Damp, womanly heat seared him, making his whole body clench against the need to lay her back and fill her up with his cock. As hot as it was, he could almost justify the act as another way to warm her.

His erection flexed against the cotton of his underwear, leaving a damp spot he couldn’t control. Everything about her called to him, beckoning him to take, claim, possess.

Her shivering began to slow, evening out into waves of fitful restfulness. It was fully dark outside now, and about time for him to build a screen of brush to hide the light of their fire.

As he moved to peel himself away from her, she opened her eyes.

So pretty. All he could do was stare.

A haze of sleepiness still clouded her features, but it was soon burned away by confusion, then a harsh layer of fear.

Her body tensed, causing her thighs to clench around his and her mound to grind even closer.

Torr breathed through the blaze of lust, letting it trickle out until only a slow burn remained.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I broke you out of the ice, found some defensible shelter and warmed you up.”

“Defensible… ?” She looked around and saw their location.

It was a shallow opening in a rocky hillside, only a few feet deep, overlooking the forest floor below. He couldn’t stand up inside the space, but nothing could sneak up on them from behind either.

As shelters went, it was the best he could do on short notice.

He saw it in her face the second she realized she was naked. And that all of that nakedness was pressed firmly against his. It was a moment of wide-eyed shock, followed closely by her pupils flaring with awareness.

“Your clothes were wet,” he explained.

“I remember.” She didn’t try to move away or hide herself. Instead, she took a deep breath that pressed her breasts even more firmly against his chest.

Torr’s heart rate kicked up. “I’ll get them for you.”

“Are they dry?”

“I doubt it. They’re laid out, but I had no way to hang them without leaving your side.” Something he was not about to do while she was unconscious and vulnerable.

Her fingers slid over his shoulder. She could have done it just to get more comfortable, but it still felt like a caress. And his body responded accordingly.

He stifled a shiver and swallowed hard, struggling to think of the most unsexy thing he could.

His mind went blank, but his vision was filled with swaths of naked skin. Smooth curves, gently sloping lines, flickering shadows hiding feminine secrets he yearned to discover.

Her gaze flitted over his face, landing again and again on his mouth. Each time the tip of her tongue would glide just inside her top lip, tempting him with the need to taste what she did.

Would she welcome his kiss, or would she shove him away like the stranger she thought he was? And did he really want to know for sure when lingering within such delightful possibility was so much sweeter?

“I should get up,” he said. “Put out the fire so we’re not glowing like a beacon.”

She didn’t release him. If anything her fingers curled into his skin as if to hold him in place.

“Are you warm enough now without the fire?” he asked.

“I’m warm,” she said, but the way she said it made him think of the slick heat that waited between her thighs.

He wanted to feel that intimate warmth so much that he had trouble pulling in his next breath. Even if he couldn’t claim her the way he wanted, he still needed something. A touch, a taste. Anything he could get. He was dying for it.

His cock throbbed and lurched toward her. He couldn’t have done a thing to control the involuntary reaction, and with only his thin underwear to cover him, there was no way she hadn’t felt it.

Color stained her cheeks, but it wasn’t embarrassment he saw. Not even close. It was desire, pure and unrehearsed.

Grace stroked the side of his face with one finger. Her touch was light, gentle, but it sliced through him all the same.

How many times had he dreamed of her being with him like this? Naked, touching him. Wanting him.

And she did. The proof of that was gathering against his thigh, slick and hot and scented with her growing arousal.

“I should get up,” he said again, trying to convince himself.

She stared into his eyes, her expression so sweet and unguarded. She didn’t even try to hide what she felt—it was all there on her face for him to see. The innocent hunger, the open curiosity.

Maybe she didn’t know how to hide her feelings, or that she should. Maybe she had no way of knowing what her vulnerability did to him, how it inflamed him and made him want to protect and possess her that much more.

If he ever got inside her, she would hold nothing back. He’d know just what she liked, what drove her wild. She would be an open book—his open book.

“I really should get up,” he said yet again, wishing that saying the words aloud might make him move his ass.

Her finger traced over his chin, reminding him that he hadn’t shaved since he’d come here. Stubble roughened his jaw, and all he could think about was how badly he wanted to leave beard burn on the delicate skin of her neck, her breasts and her inner thighs.

There were no other men here for him to warn away from her, but the idea of marking her was compelling all the same. He’d make sure she felt too good to hold his lack of a razor against him.