Page 62 of Kept in the Dark

A pool house with a guest room? Where the hell am I?

He steers us towards the bed. “Take off your wet clothes and get in,” he instructs.

“Get-t out,” I counter. If he thinks he gets to sit in here while I get naked and get into his bed, he’s crazy.

His arm snakes around my waist. I stiffen in his grip, wanting to pull away but too numb to trust my own body. The places where he’s touching me sting like open wounds—the heat of his body turning into pain on mine. “I will get in with you,” he says, and I’m not quite sure if it’s a promise or a warning. “It will warm you faster.”

“N-no! Go aw-way.”

He tightens his arm around my waist and lowers his face close to mine to growl, “If you think I am letting you out of my sight after you broke my nose, then you are more foolish than I thought. Get. In.”

I’m so sick of being fucking growled at. I don’t even care anymore.

“At l-least turn around!”

I wiggle to put enough distance between us, and it’s all the tie in my pants can take. It snaps, and the heavy sweatpants hit the tile with a fleshy, wet plop, splashing my legs. Since there’s no point in trying to salvage my dignity, I step out of both his pants and over-large socks, pushing against his chest for enough distance to manage the movement. As he turns to give me a modicum of privacy, I discard his shirt with fingers that shake from more than just the cold.

Suddenly, all my justified outrage from a second ago evaporates, and I’m just a nearly naked woman next to a man she’sstupidlyattracted to. I’m exposed—on display—covered only by nude Spanx. And I know he’s going to look. My arms move to cover my breasts, but I’m so frozen that I can barely even feel my own skin.

When he hears the shirt hit the floor, he glances over his shoulder.

I fuckingknewhe was going to look. Asshole!

I curl inwards, falling onto my ass on a plush, bouncy mattress as his eyes forge a path down my exposed chest and stomach and legs. “Stop looking,” I hiss.

No way am I letting go of my chest to pull back the covers.

My whole body contracts in one giant shake of a shiver. His face tenses, and he strides across the room.

“Get in the bed,” he repeats, opening a closet and grabbing a bundle of something. “We need to get you warm.”

Free of the paralyzing effect of his stare, I scramble under the covers, pulling the sheet and blanket up to my chin. It’s woefully thin, and I nearly say something, but then I see the bundle tucked in his arms. Bigger blankets.

It crosses my mind that I’m covered in disgusting pool water and grime from God knows what. I’d never get into my own bed like this, but I’m too cold and furious to care. Serves him right. A little laundry is the least he can do.

He lays the blankets over me, and I wince a little under their weight. I’m not any warmer yet, but it’s best to do this slowly so I don’t go into cardiac arrest. The relief will come soon.

When he drops his pants, I get a blurry flash of white ass that embarrasses me enough to make me close my eyes. The bed dips under his weight as he climbs in next to me. I shift away, keeping my arm firmly around my chest, but he drags me towards him. The sheet bunches up between us as he presses the entire length of his body to mine. He’s hard everywhere, his body a wall of smooth skin and muscle with the consistency of a rock.

I’m basically naked. In a bed. With Dimitri. And he’s totally naked.

This isn’t quite how I pictured this happening.

All the fight goes out of me when the heat of his skin hits mine. Hours of uncertainty, terror, rage, frustration, and physical exertion have taken their toll, and I’ve got a headache from eyestrain. I’m dizzy now and grateful for being horizontal.

My breath cracks and breaks in a shaky in-and-out, and I squeeze my eyes shut as hard as I can. There’s a faint whistling wheeze at the apex of each breath from my asthma that feels cartoonish and out of place.

His body heat stings and burns, making me whimper. This is more than an icy, unexpected dip; it’s an icy dip after hours in a metal box with no wind insulation.

He tucks me against his chest and lays a soft, soothing hand on the back of my head. “Shh, I know. It hurts. You will warm soon, and it will not hurt. Put your fingers here, under my arm.” He flares his top elbow out so I can tuck my icy fingers in between that hard, hot rock wall of his arm and torso.

I don’t know how long it takes, but eventually the heat of him bleeds into me. It slowly chases the feeling back into my rigid muscles and frozen nerves. I clutch harder at his body heat as the cold leeches out of my extremities, replaced by pins and needles under every inch of my skin.

I wince. That’ll be my nerves waking back up.

This sucks.

“Truce, my med?”