Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 102(@200wpm)___ 82(@250wpm)___ 68(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 102(@200wpm)___ 82(@250wpm)___ 68(@300wpm)
“I can do that in my own room!”
His jaw works, and he looks away from me for a beat, over my shoulder. I see him close his eyes and take a deep breath, hands clenching into fists and releasing a few times. He’s trying to get a hold on himself. “Elowen. You were just lost in a blizzard. I thought I’d lost you, I thought you were dead–”
Oh. Oh.
“Please. Just. Please let me take care of you. I need to know that you’re alright. I can’t rest until I know.”
It’s stupid of me, I know that, but seeing the pain that he’s in, knowing what he’s lost, and already so lost in the things I feel for him, I fold easily. Appropriateness be damned. Suddenly I want him to take care of me, too.
“...okay.” Calming myself. “Okay, Adam. I’ll stay.”
He exhales sharply, eyes opening, and then he’s stripping off his ski gear. My heart rate kicks into high gear, my mind racing as I try to figure out what exactly I’ve agreed to, but once he’s down to just his thermal underclothes, he stops, and, oh my god, I relax again.
Adam then turns to the tub, adjusting the temperature, pouring in a bottle of something that smells of lavender. A nervous, heightened energy has begun to flow between us.
"I can manage," I breathe, and he shakes his head once.
"No. Let me."
Adam is vulnerable and raw. Maybe even scared–scared for me–and I’m struck by how much he needs this.
Adam comes to me then, hands on my waist, and I gasp as he lifts me onto the marble bathroom counter. He kneels, hands steady as he helps me out of my wet, snow-covered clothes. His touch is careful, respectful even, but there’s no denying that he’s undressing me. I’m shivering all over again, but not because of the cold.
I want him so desperately, so much that I don’t even bother to cover myself as he grabs the hem of my thermal shirt and pulls it over my head, leaving me in just my bra. Nothing about me is chilled anymore, except for maybe the pile of my wet clothes now on the floor.
“Lift your hips.” Adam is a man on a mission, and I do as I’m told, letting him tug the fleece-lined leggings down my legs. It’s only once he’s done this and cradled my injured ankle, confirming that it’s truly okay, that I think it hits Adam that he’s nearly totally undressed me…and that he’s on his knees in front of me. He gently massages my swollen ankle, running his fingers firmly up my calf. It feels incredible. My pain is almost instantly relieved. Or maybe my mind is just instantly distracted. Even my instinctive self-conscious desire to cover the fleshier parts of my body seems to have vanished. He’s seeing me in ways I would not normally want to be seen by any man. Not so soon. Not here. Not yet anyway. But my body doesn’t seem to be of even the slightest concern to him. Apart from his desire to fix me.
He makes a low noise in his chest. I worry my bottom lip between my teeth as his hands move between my ankle and up my calf. His hands are surprisingly rough for someone as wealthy as he is, and I’m instantly covered in goosebumps. I want more, so much more.
Instead of giving me more, he stands, lifting me into his arms and carrying me to the bathtub. My pale pink bra and panties are already doing very little for my modesty, and I know as soon as they’re wet, they will be useless.
I don’t say a word about it, though.
Adam lowers me into the water, and it’s hot, almost too hot, but I love it. I sink into it with a sigh and the heat seeps into my bones, chasing away the last of the chill from the mountain. Adam kneels beside the tub, rolling up the sleeves of his thermal shirt.
"Let me," he says, his voice soft. He takes a washcloth, lathering it with soap, and before I can muster up the willpower to question him, he’s washing away the trauma of the day, and I’m melting into his addictive touch.
It’s stunningly intimate, and my stomach swoops when he leans forward and pushes my wet hair to one side to wash my neck and shoulders. I’m turned on in a way that is almost painful, and the feeling only intensifies when he moves on to my arms, my hands, my fingers. He takes my hand in his, lacing our fingers together, and my breath catches in my throat. He washes each finger individually; his touch sends shivers down my spine.
I'm all too aware that my nipples are rock hard, and there's no way that fact is lost on Adam either. He’s just two feet away from them. And peering straight at them. The water conceals most of me, but the peaks of my breasts are very much exposed to the cooler air and to him, the pink fabric having gone transparent now that it’s wet. His gaze flickers down for a fraction of a second, and then back up to my face; a faint rush of color creeps up his neck.