Beauty Dates the Beast(27)

Beau was at my side within moments, trying to move past me. “You’re cold and weak. Let me.”

I shoved at him, irritated. “I’m human, you jerk not crippled.” The blanket was just out of reach, so I took another step forward into the mud, angling my body on the steep bank to keep my balance.

I grabbed at the blanket at the same time as Beau did, and the stubborn ass jerked it out of my hands.

I lost my footing and slid down the steep bank toward the icy creek. Mud slid up my pant leg and sucked at my shoes, and I had a moment to cringe before my legs slid into the icy water.

I yelped.

Beau called my name just before my shoulder smacked against a branch, stopping my fall when I was three-quarters submerged.

Strong hands were on me before my brain could process anything besides coldcoldcoldcold. Beau lifted me out of the water, ripping off my sodden coat. “This is why you need to let me do things, Bathsheba,” he said in a frustrated voice.

I wanted to punch him, but my entire body was quaking so hard that I couldn’t even glare. “Fuck. You,” I chattered. My feet were freezing, my socks icy weapons of torture. “If you had let me get it, I wouldn’t be a popsicle right now.”

He took off his shirt and wrapped me in it. It was warmer, but the rest of my wet clothing still clung to me like an icy skin, and my jaw chattered so hard that I thought it would fall off.

“I’m sorry, sweet thing,” he said, scooping me up in his arms and tucking me against his bare chest. I burrowed close, pressing my lips against the warmth of his neck.

I was sooo going to kill him when I warmed up.

The walk back to the house felt unbearably long, with the snow coming down and my legs numbing up and my teeth clacking as if they’d been trying to escape my mouth. Beau was a blazing hot furnace and I curled into his heat as much as possible, pushing my wet chest against his, wrapping my arms around his torso and basically trying to crawl into his skin. I heard a low growl in his throat, but I didn’t care. I simply wanted the bitter cold to go away.

Finally, Beau pulled his keys out of his pocket, unlocked the front door, and then we were enveloped with warmth. I could have cried in relief, but I feared the tears would freeze on my face.

Beau set me down at the doorstep and turned to look me in the eye. His eyes gleamed greenish for a moment. “I’m going to check the house to make sure nothing is amiss, and then I’m going to come back here and build a fire. I want you to strip off your clothing and jump in the shower.”

As he raced off, I hesitated, my mind dull with cold. Strip off my clothing? In front of a man—a were-cougar—obsessed with having sex with me? Cold and modesty warred for a brief moment, and then I uncurled my slow, icy fingers and peeled off Beau’s borrowed shirt, worn over my wet clothing. It was now as damp as everything else.

He reappeared a few moments later, firewood stacked in his hands, and growled at the sight of me, still mostly dressed. “I’m not going to ravish you while you’re dying of hypothermia.”

“I know,” I said in a wobbly voice, but I still couldn’t seem to get moving.

Beau noticed this and picked me up in his arms, where I huddled against him as he moved to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Heat immediately blasted into the small room. “Get in there. Once you’ve warmed up enough to move, take your clothes off. Understand?”

I nodded, stepping inside the shower and letting the hot water run over my body, gasping at the burning warmth. It felt wonderful, and I closed my eyes and let the hot water cascade over me.

“I’m going to get the fire going,” he said. “Then I’ll be back to check on you.”

I wished I could sink into the hot water and never come out. It felt so good against my icy skin. When I unthawed a little, I began to grow irritated at the feeling of my wet jeans against my skin—I wanted all of me under the hot water. I glanced at the doorway where Beau had disappeared—still cracked open.

Screw modesty. It wasn’t like I didn’t want him to see me naked at some point, right? My fingers fumbled with the zipper and button of my jeans and I managed to get them undone. I slid them down my legs and stepped out, leaving the sodden lump on the floor on the far side of the shower.

I tried pulling my sweater over my head, but my arms were too drained of strength and the sweater was too soaked. I hauled it to my neck and then got stuck, unable to grasp it properly. “Beau,” I whimpered, my head trapped in the wet fabric. “Help here.”

A warm body was at my side in the shower in an instant. He pulled the rest of the heavy, water-soaked sweater over my head.

I stood there in the spray of the shower, wearing nothing but lacy panties and a bra that were so wet that they left less to the imagination than my imagination did.

Beau stiffened and suddenly I felt too exposed. His eyes began to gleam in that hungry, predatory way I recognized. “You want to take those off?” he growled.

I bit my lip, deciding. “You won’t look?”

“Bathsheba,” he said, his voice sounding strangled. “You can’t stand in front of me like that and ask me not to look.”

Fair enough. I turned slightly, presenting him with my back and letting the water pound against my front. My hands went to the long, wet ropes of my braids and I pulled them forward over my shoulders. “Can you undo my bra?”

His hands slid up my back in a hot, slippery motion, the gliding caress like liquid fire. The clasp on my bra popped and his hands stroked up and down my back. I pulled the bra off and let it fall to the tiled floor. Crossing my arms over my breasts protectively, I looked at him over my shoulder. “Thank you.” The words came out low, husky.

I could see that his clothes were soaking wet now. And judging from his expression, that was the last thing on his mind. His hands slid to the low band of my wet panties and then underneath, caressing my bottom. “Take these off,” he said, his breath hot against my ear and neck, sending shivers through me.

As I protectively cupped my breasts, shyness overwhelmed me. I didn’t want to move my hands, “You do it,” I whispered, an utter thrill shivering through my body at the thought of him sliding them off my body.

His hands slid under the wet lace and began to skim that last bit of fabric slowly down my thighs and calves. His body followed, and I could feel his mouth graze the small of my back. Tingles shot through my body.

“You have the prettiest ass,” he said, cupping it. “So round and soft.”

I shivered at that, and he reached past me and turned the water off. “You’re still cold?”

“I, uh …”

Within seconds, he wrapped a thick towel around me, completely blanketing my nudity. He shoved me out the bathroom door, ignoring the fact that his clothes were dripping water all over the place, and propelled me toward the fire. It crackled and blazed in the fireplace, and he sat me on the brick hearth. Before I could think, he removed my towel. A thick blanket plopped over my shoulders.

Confused, I pulled it around me, then turned around. Beau faced away from me, one whiteknuckled hand clutching the mantel, his shoulders heaving.

The heat was affecting him, badly.

“Wrap up and sit there until you stop shivering,” he said in a harsh voice.

Obediently, I snuggled into the blanket. It was warm and very welcome, but my heart fluttered at Beau’s obvious distress. Maybe I should have told him that I was shivering due to desire?

The words clamped in my throat as he left the room, stripping off his own wet clothing. I was doing this all wrong. He wanted to seduce me, I wanted him to seduce me, but I couldn’t seem to get things started.

When Beau reentered the room dressed in athletic pants, I stared at that golden expanse of muscled chest and my mouth went dry. He moved closer to me and I instinctively raised my face toward his. His fingers brushed against my cheek and he frowned down at me. “You’re still cold. Wait here and I’ll make you some coffee.”

He disappeared again, leaving me vaguely disgruntled. I had been enjoying the shower so very much, and he’d turned mother hen on me. I thought of Beau’s warm hands and his bare chest pressing against mine and wondered if I had the courage to ask him to get under the blankets with me.

Because oh, I really liked the sudden visual in my mind.

So what was I waiting for? Here was a ridiculously hot man that I was crazy over, who wanted to make love to me. Being shy wasn’t going to help me with this.

Beau returned a few minutes later with an enormous coffee mug. Concentration furrowed his brow, but the front of his pants showed that he was still thinking about me despite the polite smile on his lips.

I shook my head when he offered the coffee mug. “My front is cold,” I said, shoring up my courage.

“Turn to face the fire—”

“Then my back will be cold,” I said, trying not to get peevish at him. Crap. I was really bad at flirting. I stared at his bare, delicious chest and opened the blanket a fraction, showing a hint of my bare breasts. “Would you … could you come under the blanket with me?” I thought my cheeks might catch on fire with the blush climbing up my face.