Capturing the Crown Bundle. Nina Bruhns

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      The rain beat steadily on the metal roof, but the rough structure held. “Safer than outside in that storm.”

      He could have sworn he heard her whimper low in her throat. “Sydney?”

      Pulling his lighter from his pocket, he clicked it on. In the second of light the flame provided, he saw her pale, pinched face, the terror in her dilated eyes. “You’re really frightened.”

      She made a strangled sound of assent.

      He fought the urge to take her in his arms. “Don’t be afraid.”

      “I have a thing about storms,” she told him, her voice shaking. “Once, when I was a child, I was in a sailboat during a storm. The boat capsized. I almost drowned. Since then, I’ve always been terrified of them.”

      Ah, damn. One step closed the distance between them. Telling himself he would offer only comfort, he gathered her close. Violent tremors shook her and, soaked and bedraggled, her sleek skin felt like ice.

      “It’s all right,” he murmured, sinking to the ground, his arms full of drenched woman, trying to warm her the only way he could.

      Her shivers had become great shudders. She clung to him with a desperation that touched him, despite all he knew about her.

      “I’m sorry.” Her apology was low, her voice full of shame. “I’m so damn cold…”

      He began to try and warm her in earnest, though he imagined the touch of his callused fingers felt downright sacrilegious as he rubbed them over her soft skin. The silky softness of her wet body, the curve and perfection of her form, told how far out of his league he was with a woman like her.

      But she needed him now and, no matter what else he might have become, he would always have some bodyguard in him.

      He prayed she wasn’t aware of how much she turned him on.

      Apparently not. Oblivious, head against his chest, she continued to tremble and clutch at him, gasping out loud when another crack of thunder and flash of lightning shook the earth.

      “Shh.” Attempting to soothe her, he continued to try and thaw her, to rub warmth back into her frozen limbs, while ignoring the heat that rose in him at the feel of her wrapped around him.

      Disgusted with himself, he grabbed the lap blanket he’d salvaged from the wreckage and handed it to her.

      “Get out of your wet clothes.” His voice sounded like rusty nails. He prayed she wouldn’t notice.

      “Now? Here?” Her shocked tone made him smile, glad she couldn’t see him in the darkness.

      Gently, he eased her from his lap, and shifted to lessen the pressure brought on by his growing arousal. “Yes, here. Use the blanket to dry off. Then wrap up in it.”

      “Good idea.” A moment later, the sound of her unzipping her ragged slacks had him gritting his teeth. Images of Sydney, sleek and naked in his arms, tormented him, adding to his physical discomfort.

      Feeling like a voyeur, he listened as she peeled off her wet blouse, and held his breath as he imagined her unhooking her bra and freeing her lush breasts. He ached to reach out and cup them, so he clenched his hands into fists to keep from doing exactly that.

      “There,” she said, and sighed. “You’re right. This blanket feels good. Much warmer.”

      He couldn’t find his voice to answer, so he said nothing, listening to the storm, his heartbeat drumming in his ears, and the harsh sound of his uneven breathing.

      Another crack of thunder, and the rain began to batter them. The accompanying flash of lightning showed Sydney, wrapped in the blanket and standing, body rigid, her eyes wide with silent terror.

      Chase clenched his jaw. If he made it through this night without touching her, he should be awarded a medal.

      “Come here,” he told her, shifting to shield her from his raging erection. “Lie down and let me hold you.”

      “Thank you.” She settled on the ground next to him.

      Then, touching her with only his upper body, he wrapped his arm around her slender, blanket-wrapped shoulders, and wondered how the hell he was going to get any sleep.

      Sydney opened her eyes, drowsy and comfortably warm. Outside, the storm still raged, but wrapped in Chase’s muscular arms, her fear had vanished. The dim light told her morning had arrived.

      And she was naked, curled up against his equally bare body. Instantly, she came awake, her heartbeat tripling.

      Chase still slept, his chest rising with his deep and even breathing. With one arm, he kept her close to him, tucked spoonlike against him. Twisting slowly in his arms, she lay on her back and studied him. Even asleep, he was beautiful. The stubble on his chin made him look even more masculine, even more sexy.

      She had no urge to move, nowhere to go. Content to watch him, she tried to figure out her own admittedly skewed logic. She and Chase. A man she barely knew, who’d made it quite plain what he thought of her.

      If it weren’t so damn pitiful, she’d laugh. Chalk one up to feeling extremely vulnerable. Not only did she consider her and her unborn baby’s survival a miracle, but her companion on this deserted island was a drop-dead-gorgeous and sexy-as-hell man.

      Another woman might have found this heaven. Sydney tried to decide if she was in hell. The last thing she—or her child—needed was another disastrous relationship.

      It might have been better if she’d demanded he make her another shelter, but the truth of the matter was that she didn’t want to be alone.

      No, if she was being totally honest, the simple reality was she craved his kiss, his touch, his smile.

      Chase.

      When he touched her she felt like the most desirable woman on earth.

      She was an idiot: lying here naked while her clothes, surely dry by now, lay within arm’s reach of their makeshift bed.

      But berating herself did little good. She was only human after all. Every time he shifted his body, she felt the movement vibrate along her nerve endings, straight to the inner core of her. The storm-moist air caressed her bare skin, and she felt hypersensitive. Everything—the rustle of the leaves underneath them, the rise and fall of his chest, his masculine scent, the way his tousled blond hair fell across his forehead—aroused her as she’d never been before.

      He turned, still sleeping, and muttered something, too low for her to understand at first. A name? While she tried to puzzle that, he snuggled against her, his perfectly formed body pressed against the full length of hers. For an instant, she forgot to breathe.

      Good Lord, how she wanted this man!

      Tentatively, she stretched, rubbing herself against him like a starving cat. Her entire body tingled. Her breasts were tender and aching, and her pulse beat hot and heavy in places she’d never known it could.

      Ah, temptation. One heartbeat away from continuing to move her body against СКАЧАТЬ