She’s terrified.
Oh, my girl. What the hell?
I burn to touch her. To take away the fear. Pull the pained look from her face.
My calloused fingers sweep over her jaw. She jerks backward. Her chin wobbles as she struggles to take her next breath.
I swallow past the boulder in my throat before cupping her face with both hands.
“Evie . . .” I choke.
She’s shaking something fierce. Her skin is pale, cold, and awash in goosebumps.
I fold my arms around her and pull her away from the tree.
Her ragged inhale tells me all I need to know. “You’re okay, baby girl, I got you.”
I stand, bending down to sweep her up off the forest floor and into my arms. Pressed against my chest, my arms holding her, she opens her eyes.
I almost lose my composure at the torment lining them.
“Fuck, baby. Let’s get you dry and warm.”
“Callum?” She sobs, fingers curled around the opening of my shirt.
I grind my jaw shut, tamping back the emotion that wants out badly, and adjust my focus on tracking back to the hut.
When the faint lights of the hut finally poke through the rows of trees, I look down to Evie.
She’s out cold.
What has she been through since I left? What the hell was in that envelope? What happened at the house?
I push through the hut’s door and am thankful the wood stove is still burning. Depositing her on the bunk, I bundle up as many blankets as I can find. Which is four in total, since no one but me has stayed here for years. I arrange them in front of the stove and add two more logs to the burner, leaving the door open. It’s more like a small fireplace now. Evie sits on the bunk, staring at the floor, shaking.
“We need to get those wet clothes off,” I say softly, coming to stand in front of her.
Wide brown eyes look up at me as she nods slowly.
I reach for her shirt, and she raises her arms. I tug the wet shirt from her and lay it over a chair to dry. Her shivers intensify. Her white lace bra is also soaked.
“This too,” I rasp.
Her teeth chatter as she studies my face. “Y-ou d-do i-it.”
I lean over, sliding my palms over her back for warmth before I unclasp the hook of the bra. The wet lingerie slips away, and I tug it over her arms and toss it over the chair.
With trembling hands, she pulls her long hair to one side and squeezes the water from it. It hits the floor, splashing my feet. It’s fucking cold.
Christ, I need to get her warm. And quick.
I pull her to her feet and unbutton her shorts. As I get them to her boots, I undo the laces and slip the boots off before taking her shorts and panties as well. I turn back to lay her clothes over the chair. Her chattering teeth fill the small space, urging me to hurry up. A reminder of what I’m doing.
Tell that to my throbbing, rock-hard cock. To the shallow cycles of air barely gracing my lungs. And when I turn back to face Evie, she’s shaking, hugging her arms around her body, eyes trained on the fire.
My girl needs warming up. And that’s what I’m going to do.
I sweep her off her feet again and carry her to the blankets. I lie her down on them, but she sits up, crossing her legs. She shuffles closer to the fire. So I drape one blanket over her shoulders and sit behind her, wrapping my body around hers.
