“I’m Googling.” Ruby lunges for a phone.
He doesn’t stop to take off my snowy clothes, just carries me down the hall into the great room where twin fires burn. The entire crowd follows us.
“Maybe put her in a warm bath,” someone suggests.
Blackthroat veers off, back toward my bedroom.
“No, not a bath.” Ruby jogs along behind us reading from her phone. “It says that can cause burns. You need to be very gentle, it says. Remove her wet clothing and get her under blankets. Administer warm fluids.”
“I’ll get something hot for her to drink.” Liz veers away.
“I’ll get blankets,” the old man says.
We arrive at my bedroom, and Brick kicks the door in and sets me on my feet. He unbuttons my coat and gently tugs my gloves off my hands, holding each one between his large warm ones.
The men fall back and disappear, giving me some privacy, but Ruby and the woman who must be their mother stay. She gently unwinds my scarf, then helps me out of the sweater. “I read about this once,” she says. “The best way to warm her up is with your body heat. You need to strip off your clothing, too, and get under the covers with her.”
“I think I’ve heard that, too,” Ruby says. She shares a glance with her mother.
She and Brick both crouch to remove my boots while their mother steadies me. “Her socks are soaked,” Ruby breathes with chagrin.
Their mom unhooks my bra. I should probably feel awkward, but I can’t find it in me to care if perfect strangers see my breasts.
“Th-there were wolves out there.” I finally find my voice.
The older woman meets my gaze. She takes my hand between both of hers, holding it sandwiched in her warmth like Brick had done. Hot pins and needles make me gasp and pull it back. “Are you hurt, sweetheart?”
Brick gently peels down the wet, woolen leggings. “She’s bruised,” he growls angrily.
“Wolves,” I repeat in a whisper. I find it strange that no one seems upset about a pack of wolves that are on the property and were about to eat me.
“You’re in shock,” the older woman says.
As if to prove it, my body starts to shake uncontrollably. It seems like a delayed reaction, since I’m inside now. It’s like my body was too frozen before to even shiver.
“Blankets are out here in the hall, a gruff male voice calls from the other side of the door.
“Thank you, Dane.” Ruby cracks the door to retrieve them.
A light tap sounds on the door, and Liz bustles in carrying a silver-colored serving tray. “Hot cocoa. And chicken noodle soup. She’s probably starving.” I notice she averts her gaze from me. Probably because I’m mostly naked at this point. “And here’s hot tea if she doesn’t like the cocoa.” She sets the tray down on the bedside table and quickly disappears.
“Get her in the bed.” Brick’s mother pulls back the covers.
I shiver in my panties, teeth chattering, body shaking. My eyeballs burn in the warmth like they, too, were nearly frozen solid out there. Blackthroat gently scoops me up to carry me the two feet to the bed and carefully places me in the middle.
“Leave us,” he commands, as if his mother and sister were servants, not his family.
As soon as they exit, he strips down to his boxers and climbs in behind me. Blackthroat molds his body against mine from the back, sandwiching my feet between his larger ones and lightly but frantically stroking his palm over my cold skin.
“You’re so cold,” he laments. “Fuck, Madison.”
I shiver violently against him. It’s definitely shock.
“Madison,” he croaks, his voice soft with regret. “Madi, Madi, Madi.” I like that he uses my preferred name for once. His hand continues lightly roving everywhere he can reach-down and up my thighs, over my belly, along my side. He yanks the covers up under my chin and tucks them in around me, then pets my arm, my cold cheek. He cups his hand and covers my nose to warm the tip.
He breathes softly against the shell of my ear, like he’s lending his breath to warm it. His hand continues to rove over my skin, thawing all the frozen parts of me. Down my arm, up my side, over my belly, down my thigh. When he strokes it around my breast, I feel his dick harden where my ass is pressed against his lap. He shifts back, so I can’t feel it, and I miss the contact.
“Talk to me, Windows. It’s hard to tell if you’re all there. Tell me to fuck off again.”
“Fuck off.”
He blows out a breath. “I’m sorry, Madison. Mark your calendar and have a trophy made to put on your mantle because I don’t apologize often.” His deep voice is wry. I like hearing him humbled for once. It’s cruel, but I love that he seems worried over me. “You’ve earned a good one.”
I don’t answer, but his words sink into my frozen soul and thaw my emotions as his body warmth brings me back to life.
“I know I was a total asshole when you got here. You saved the land deal, which was very important to me, and I should have been grateful. I am grateful. I was just shaken up by the fact that you’d flown in the storm and risked your beautiful neck to do it. And it came right on the heels of finding out Ruby invited our mom here for Thanksgiving behind my back.”
That draws me out of my stupor. My interest catches on the implied drama. I’m still not ready to talk to him, but I listen, waiting to hear more.
“To say I don’t want her here would be the understatement of the century, and that’s the only reason I said you couldn’t spend Thanksgiving with us. Because I didn’t want you to witness the most fucked-up family dynamic on the planet.”
My shivering slows. Or rather, there are patches of stillness between waves of it. I can’t seem to control it, no matter how hard I try to relax.
“I’m sorry if I made you feel unwelcome.”
“You did,” I mutter, finally giving in and saying something besides fuck you. Because I’m obviously feeling very mature. Not sulking at all.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He reaches for the hot cocoa from the bedside table and brings it to my lips, propping my shoulders up. I take a few sips, and the warmth slides down my throat and into my belly.
“Are these the servant’s quarters?” I ask when he puts the mug down and curls back around me.
“What?” He groans. “
No. I mean, not really. I guess I can see how it could be construed that way because it’s closer to the kitchen. No, you’re at the far end of the building because I was trying to remove you as a goddamn temptation.”
My shivers stop completely as the heat his words produce warm my core.
His breath grows raspier at my ear. “Please don’t quit, Madi,” he says softly.
Oddly, I find myself disappointed. Like I was hoping for the “you’re the one” speech instead of “you’re the best employee.”
But that’s foolish. Billionaires like Blackthroat don’t throw themselves at the feet of their secretaries.
“You’re the only assistant I have ever been able to stand, and that has nothing to do with how much I want to get in your panties. It’s because you’re the best.”
He slows the pace of his stroking, and it takes on a far more sensual tone. My heart picks up speed, responding to the change of energy between us. Clearly his mention of getting into my panties has both of us thinking about it. His palm coasts up my side, settling on my breast where he lightly strums my nipple with his thumb. It stiffens under his touch, and I feel the answering tug between my legs.
“Madi?” Blackthroat’s velvety voice is pure temptation. “May I warm you with my tongue?”
I love the way he asks for consent. I nod my head.
His grip on my breast tightens. “Say it,” he murmurs against my temple.
“Yes.”
* * *
Brick
My need to give pleasure to a female has never been so strong. This isn’t like our desperate first fuck over the conference table.
No, this time, I don’t expect to get myself off. Only to take care of her needs. To give to her. She deserves pleasure at the tip of my tongue. She deserves it all.
The moment she gives her consent, I roll her to her back. She averts her gaze, still too mad or hurt to look me in the eye, and I don’t force it. I trail light kisses between her breasts, slipping lower beneath the cover to kiss down her soft belly.
I drink in her nutmeg and oranges scent. This time it’s coupled with the scent of the outdoors-snow and pine and residual fear.
Fuck, I wish I could go back in time and make things right. Prevent the hurt feelings and the trauma of nearly dying out there in a snowstorm.
I swirl my tongue around the inside of her belly button, and she squirms. I continue lower, slowly opening her thighs with my hands and kissing along each inner thigh before I part her flesh with my tongue.
Her breath leaves her with a shaky exhale.
I take my time. This isn’t foreplay, it’s the main event. For her pleasure only, not that satisfying her won’t satisfy me, too, on some level.
I trace her inner lips with the tip of my tongue, then tease her entrance. I find her clit and swirl around it until her legs start to grow restless.
Then I catch her knees and push them up to spread her wide for me. I kiss and suck with more fervor, and she starts to moan and cry out. I work a couple fingers inside her and stroke her inner wall, seeking the place where the tissue stiffens and swells under my fingertips.
Madison rolls her pelvis, her knees clamping around my ears. I use my tongue on her clit at the same time I pump my fingers in and out, and she starts to arch her back and pull my hair. With my other hand, I slip my thumb between the crack of her ass to find her anus. The moment I rub it, she comes, her internal muscles squeezing my fingers, her knees clapping against my ears as she cries out hoarsely.
It was a small orgasm, but considering what she’s been through, I think it’s enough. Her body needs rest and sustenance. Using up what little fuel she has left on pleasure would be a mistake.
I climb up beside her and nest my body against hers, even though she’s no longer freezing. She no longer requires skin-to-skin contact. I don’t care-I do. I wrap an arm around her waist and listen as her breaths grow longer, and she falls into a gentle sleep.
Good. My wolf’s content at having her safely asleep in my arms. Recovering from her trauma.
* * *
“You’re still here?” she asks when she wakes an hour later.
Okay, she’s still mad at me. I deserve that.
Rather than grovel again, I go Big Bad Boss on her. I climb over her and pin both her wrists down beside her head. “You’re not quitting.”
Her gaze meets mine then skates away. But it returns to my face. There’s a vulnerability in it that makes my chest ache.
“What would it take to get you to stay?”
She lifts her chin at a stubborn angle. “Invite me to Thanksgiving dinner with you.”
Now that she says it, I realize the scent of turkey roasting, along with sweeter notes of pumpkin and apple pies have filled the room.
“Ugh. You want to eat with my fucked up family? I was going to use you nearly dying in a snowstorm as my excuse not to go. Can’t we skip it?”
She studies my face. She wants to know more about the drama with my mom. She needs to be included. I pushed her tender spot by making her feel unwelcome and socially slighted. The thing about putting her in the servant’s quarters? It never would have occurred to me that’s what she would think. But now I remember the story about her dad. He was rich and her mother was a nobody, not good enough to marry. She must carry that wound close to her heart.
“Fine,” I say, even though having her at Thanksgiving dinner is the last thing I want. “You’re probably the only reason it will not be a shit show. What else?”
“I want a raise.” Her voice is flat, like she’s defeated rather than elated by the idea. Usually money tweaks her-although I guess that’s the double-edged sword. It was her perception of her own lack that allowed me to hurt her so badly.
“How much?”
“Double.”
“Done.”
I see none of her usual glee at winning a negotiation, and it makes my chest throb even more. She rolls out of the bed with her back to me and walks toward the bathroom. She looks small and so fucking fragile.
Fuck. She almost died today. But worse is the effect on her spirit.
Crushing her spirit was the last thing I ever wanted to do. I need to figure out how we can recover from this.
The shower turns on in the bathroom.
The logical thing would be for me to leave. To give her some privacy now. But somehow I know if I leave her now, she’ll be lost to me forever. Even with the taste of her still on my tongue, I haven’t recovered her heart yet.
Fuck-her heart?
When did I ever want her heart? I scrub a hand over my face. I want to deny this attachment I have to her, but I can’t. Everyone in this lodge just witnessed the depth and extent of it today when I went insane over her safety.
So I stay. I fold my hands behind my head and try not to think of how glorious she must look under the spray of water. Naked and wet.
When she comes out with a towel wrapped around her, her gaze bounces to me, and I swear she looks relieved to find me still in her bed, rather than annoyed.
I sit up in the bed. “Are you hurt?” I swing my legs over the side and extend my arms, inviting her to come to me. “May I see?”
She seems calmer. A little more like herself although still too quiet. She comes over to me, and I take her hands and examine her fingers. I don’t know what I’m looking for-I have no idea what frostbite on a human looks like, but she seems all right. I check her ears, her toes. Her face is chapped pink from the wind, which makes her look even more beautifully alive than ever.
“How did you get those bruises on your shins?”
“I fell down a ravine. I was following my tracks in the snow to get back, but I didn’t see the gulch with all the snow, and once I was down in it, I couldn’t figure out how to get out.”
I swear softly and drop my forehead against her sternum. I want to pluck the towel ends open and worship her body again, but I know she needs rest.
“What time is dinner?” she asks.
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