Crystal Cove (Friday Harbor #4)(33)

“Shut up,” he told her roughly, and yanked off her socks.

Rosemary, who wasn’t generally fond of men to begin with, shot him an affronted glance.

Sage laid a gently restraining hand on her arm. “Start the bathwater. I’ll make tea.”

“Did you hear the way he—”

“He’s just a bit frazzled,” Sage murmured. “Let it be.”

Jason wasn’t frazzled, Justine wanted to tell her. He was furious, and sky-high on adrenaline. And she didn’t especially want to be left alone with him in this mood.

As both women exited the room, Jason began the difficult task of removing Justine’s neoprene pants. The insulated fabric clung stubbornly to her legs despite the nylon facing inside. Jason’s breath came in harsh bursts as he pulled the pants free, the neoprene actually ripping in his brutal grip. Justine lay with her fists clenched, her body shaking until it felt as if the flesh were about to rattle loose from her bones.

Tossing the pants aside, Jason reached for her base-layer capris. Realizing that he intended to strip her naked, Justine began to protest.

“Quiet,” Jason said roughly, pushing her hands aside. “You can’t do this by yourself.”

Her dry-top and tee were next, joining the pants in a soggy heap on the floor. Her wet bra and panties were removed efficiently. The tremors running through her limbs were so violent that she couldn’t even cover herself. Justine blinked her burning lids against a rush of tears. She felt like a miserable half-dead sea creature, like some unwanted catch that had been dragged up in a fisherman’s net.

Standing over her, Jason grasped the hem of his damp T-shirt. Justine’s eyes widened as he stripped it off in an efficient movement. He was powerfully built, all tough, defined muscle with no hint of softness. His skin was smooth and honey colored, with a dusting of dark hair trailing down from his navel and disappearing into the top of his board shorts.

Kicking off his boat shoes, Jason lay beside Justine. He pulled her na**d torso against his and arranged quilts around them both.

“It’s the best way to warm you,” she heard him say gruffly.

Justine nodded against his shoulder to let him know that she understood.

He tightened his arms, his shoulders hunching in the effort to surround her with himself. He was inhumanly hot, or it must have seemed that way because she was half frozen. The sensation made her frantic to have more. As another attack of bone-jarring shudders went through her, she struggled to get closer.

“I’ve got you. Try to relax.” He was still breathing fast from exertion, searing strikes of air against her neck. His hair-roughened legs tangled with hers, the solid muscles of his thighs clamping to keep her still.

She wouldn’t have survived without this, his body heat feeding into her, penetrating down to the lurking coldness. He was all around her, his breath mixing with hers, his skin salty with sweat and ocean water. She could feel his pulse points, the flex of muscles, the movement of his throat when he swallowed. At some point in the near future, she was going to be humiliated by the memory of this, but at the moment, she was too desperate to care.

She was overtaken by another paroxysm of shuddering, and another, while he murmured to her, gripping her close. Gradually her skin began to prickle with the return of sensation. Her hands hurt, palms needling until her fingers opened and closed convulsively. Wordlessly Jason reached for her hands and pressed them flat against his sides.

“Sorry,” she croaked, knowing her touch was icy.

“Everything’s fine,” he said gruffly. “Relax.”

“You’re angry.”

He didn’t bother to deny it. “When I saw your kayak floating upside down—” He paused and took a short breath. “I knew that even if I managed to find you, you were going to be in bad shape.” A savage note entered his voice. “Do you know what would have happened if I’d taken a few minutes longer, you reckless idiot?”

“I wasn’t reckless,” Justine burst out. “The weather wasn’t that bad when I—” She was forced to stop as a cough tore through her salt-scoured throat.

“You were stubborn,” he insisted. “Pigheaded.”

That’s just great, coming from you, she wanted to say, but she stayed silent, her chest heaving. Every time she tried to breathe, a sob escaped.

She felt Jason’s hand pass gently over the tangled wet mass of her hair. “Don’t cry,” he said, his tone softening. “I won’t say anything else. You’ve had enough for now, poor baby. It’s all right. You’re safe.”

She struggled to hold back the humiliating tears and pushed at him.

“Let me hold you,” he said. “I’m an ass**le, but I’m warm. And you need me.” He sat up and lifted her into his lap, and wrapped the quilt around both of them. “You scared the hell out of me,” he murmured. “When I pulled you out of the water, you were only half conscious and you were turning blue.” He used a fold of the quilt to blot her wet cheeks. “If this is an example of how you look after yourself, I swear I’m going to take on the job. Because someone has to take care of you.” He rocked her as if she were a child, murmuring roughly into her hair. “Someone has to keep you safe.”

Justine’s sobs eased into sniffles. His arms were solid around her, his heartbeat strong beneath her ear. She had never felt so dependent on someone in her adult life. The surprise was that it wasn’t altogether unpleasant. The gentle rocking motion lulled her, and she wanted to sleep, but Jason kept asking questions … whether she felt cramps in her legs, and what day of the week it was, and what she remembered from being out on the ocean.