SHIVER (7 page)

Raven went to interrupt, but Eva put her hand up. “Don’t even. Fiona has her hands full with the guests. Lynx is off doing who knows what in that blizzard. And I’m eight months pregnant.” She looked down her nose at Raven. “You know what they say about bad weather and labor, don’t you?”

Raven paled. Eva was right, she could go into labor. And with the blizzard it would fall to Raven to help deliver. She’d rather not. “But I have orders to fill.”

“They’ll have to wait.” Eva shrugged. “Sorry, but that is the way it is.” She didn’t seem sorry.

Raven sighed. “What do I have to do?”

Eva smiled as though she was going to enjoy this next part. “Sponge bath. We need to get his temp down, and that will be the quickest most efficient way.”

You have got to be kidding me.
“You want me to give Aidan a sponge bath.”

“Yep. Repeated sponge baths until his temp is down under a hundred.” She rubbed her belly again. “I couldn’t reach enough of him with this beach ball in my way. You’re the next best person for the job.”

“What did I ever do to make you hate me like this?”

“Nothing, I just get off on making people do things they’d rather not. Call it a personality flaw. Besides, I need some entertainment. And the snow has knocked out my satellite dish.”

“You’re sadistic.”

“Uh-huh,” Eva agreed, giving Raven a bottle of pills. “Here. Give him one every eight hours, with food. And call me if he gets worse. Until then—” she rubbed her belly again, “—I’m going to go downstairs, have a huge stack of your mom’s sourdough pancakes and then take a mid-morning nap.” Eva stood and waddled her way out of the room.

Raven turned to Aidan.

Sponge bath?

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

Raven gathered items for Aidan’s sponge bath and approached the bed.

“Aidan?” she called. No response. He lay there, not doing much more than showing a pulse. She set the pan of tepid water on the nightstand. A washcloth floated under the surface.

Where to start?

He rested fitfully in his shirt and boxers. Batman boxers. He obviously still loved his superheroes. She was
not
taking them off, but guessed the shirt would have to go. She slipped the fabric up his stomach, watching as she dragged the material over his abs, his ribs, waiting for any change in Aidan’s reaction. Any awareness. There wasn’t. He was sleeping like the dead. It seemed extreme that if she didn’t give him sponge baths he might actually end up taking a dirt nap. It was just a fever. Granted a high one. So he’d lose some brain cells. They were all going to grow old and senile anyway. He’d get there faster.

She grumbled under her breath as she pulled the shirt up and over his head. “Oh, my.” She gulped catching full sight of him without his shirt. He’d kept himself in shape. Carved muscles were hot under her hands. Hot with fever. Her gaze jerked back at his face. Nothing. She turned back to his chest. Her eyes took in the smooth burnished skin, the dark nipples, the washboard abs, traveling lower to the groin muscles before his boxers covered the rest.

Maybe she should take off his boxers.

No. Absolutely not.

On a huff of disgusted breath, she grabbed the cloth and wrung the excess water out of it. She laid the washcloth on the side of his face, gasping in surprise when he moaned and turned his face into the cold material. She held her breath as she moved the cloth over his cheek. Rewetting the cloth, she ran it along his chiseled jaw, over his collarbone, slowly dipping into the hollow of his throat. He moaned again. She stopped and waited, breathing easier when he didn’t do anything else. She dragged the washcloth over his chest, around his erect nipples.

She’d made love to this body. Worshipped it. They’d both been young. He’d grown into a man since then. He’d had a lanky body before. Thin, wiry, made of long lean muscle. Now he was a man with a man’s body. His chest had spread, filled out, his shoulders and arms were muscled and thick. The body of a man who knew how to work. She’d heard he’d continued to commercial fish in Bristol Bay every summer with Earl. She ran her hands over his biceps. Obviously that was how he’d built these guns. She found herself licking her lips, and feeling a bit hot herself. She tossed the washrag into the pan of water and stood, running her hands through her hair. Absently, she started to braid the long length of it as she walked toward the window, in a vain attempt to cool off.

The snow was beautiful. White, pure, peacefully blanketing the earth in soft big flakes. She loved days like this, usually. There was nothing to do but wait the weather out. Snow days gave her the opportunity to lose herself in her pottery studio. She didn’t have to drive anywhere. Errands were put on hold. She usually would throw something in the Crockpot and settle in front of her wheel and mold one creation after the other. But not today. Today she was stuck being a nursemaid. She glanced back to Aidan. And she shouldn’t like it as much as she was.

After braiding her hair, she retrieved the tie she’d put in her pocket last night when she’d released it. A quick twist and it was secured and out of her way. She opened the window and let the cold air into the room and turned down the thermostat so the heat wouldn’t kick on. She wasn’t spending the next few hours sponge bathing Aidan’s body to bring down his temp. Outside forces would have to help.

Raven returned to the bed and took a deep breath, picking up the rag and starting where she’d left off. Cooling down the room would hopefully cool her down too.

She ran the cloth down his ribs, over one side then the other. Reaching his six, no, eight pack of abdomen muscles, she rewetted the cloth. She traced each muscle. Admiring his form, the beauty of a well-conditioned male body. That was all. She could appreciate the beauty of his body even if she didn’t appreciate the soul of the man inside of it.

She dragged the rag across his belly button, dipping inside then trailing to the waistband of his boxers. She noticed that something was awake. Very awake. Her eyes flew to Aidan’s face, where he regarded her with his lids at half-mast.

How long had he been conscious? How long had she spent tracing each muscle on his abdomen?

She felt herself blush. His hands reached up and grasped her shoulders.

Oh, crap.

She read the intent in his slumberous, heated gaze just as he dragged her up his body. She should stop him. But then she was face to face with him, chest to chest, groin to groin, and he angled his head toward hers.

Her eyes widened, her heartbeat increased, and her lips parted just as his mouth took hers.

Suddenly her world stopped turning and then began spinning as fast as her pottery wheel. And like that clay, he molded her to him.

Oh, God, she’d missed him. No, not him. She’d missed
this
. Kissing. It had been a long time since she’d been in the company of another man. Months. Get real, it’s been years. And no one had ever kissed her like Aidan Harte had,
was
. He made her shiver. He made her
want
. His body had changed, matured, and so had his kissing.

She was in trouble.

He flipped her onto her back and settled his weight against hers in all the right places. His body burned against hers, the cold room causing a delicious contrast. He yanked at the knit top she wore, freeing it, leaving her wearing her plain bra, sweatpants, and socks. His hands found her breasts, and he groaned. Tearing his mouth free from hers, his fevered eyes met hers as his hands kneaded her breasts.

“So soft.” He reclaimed her mouth and rubbed his hard length against her. It was her turn to groan as his leg spread her thighs, making room for him to settle himself deeper against her.

How could she want this so badly when she hated him so much? He’d been gone without a word for twelve years. He’d never called, no letter, not even a freaking email. Yeah, she’d told him to never contact her again, but did he have to do exactly that?

His hand cupped her bottom and he lifted her against him.
Oh God, that felt good.
She hadn’t had an orgasm in…in…well…in a damn long time. Couldn’t she just let him—

No. Stop this now, before it goes any further.

His hand snaked under the waistband of her sweats right to her center.
Oh, yes, like that.

Too far, too far. Put a stop to this, now
.

Almost far enough—

His fingers entered her. Oh God,
yes
.

Her body bucked against him. She grabbed the sides of his hips. Her hand covering the tattoo they’d gotten together. His of the sun. Hers, the raven who carried the sun, bringing light and heat to the north. When their bodies were in this position, it looked as though her raven carried his sun on its back just like the Athabascan legend had foretold.

It was erotic. Especially after they’d gotten the tats and Aidan would come up and just place his hand on her hip, right over his raven. They’d share a look and know what the other was thinking. She’d missed that. She’d missed this.

She’d missed
him
.

What was she doing? She shouldn’t be under him. Shouldn’t be letting him touch her like this. Shouldn’t be caring for him all over again. A sob escaped her. She pushed at his shoulders. No response, just his lips traveling to her neck, his stubble strapping her skin.

“No,” she moaned, pushing at him again. This time her foot connected with his injured leg. He gave a yelp of pain and released her.

She scurried out from under him and stood next to the bed, breathing hard. Her chest rose and fell with the effort, her body mourning the heat of his hands.

He lifted his head and looked at her, his eyes sad and beseeching. “Why did you stop loving me, Raven?”

She opened her mouth to answer him but couldn’t find the words. He closed his eyes and let out a breath as though his spirit was in pain and dropped his head to the bed. His shoulders slumped, and she knew he was out again.

The door opened and in walked her mother. “Raven?” She frowned. “I thought you were giving Aidan a sponge bath? Not yourself?”

“What?”

Fiona indicated Raven standing there in her bra.

She grabbed her shirt that was half under Aidan, yanked it free, and put it on.

“What’s been going on here?”

Heat burned her cheeks. “Nothing, I just needed to change my shirt.”

“Into what? You didn’t bring any clothes with you.” Fiona gave her a calculating look but let her off the hook with her next question. “How’s your patient?”

“He isn’t my anything.”

“Right. Want to go over why you were only wearing a bra again?”

“No.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t know how he’s doing.” She didn’t even know if he’d been fully conscious when they’d kissed. She had the feeling she really didn’t know anything at all anymore. Especially about herself.

“I made lunch and thought I’d check to see if he wanted anything to eat.” Fiona glanced down at Aidan. “By the looks of him, he isn’t up to eating food, yet.”

Had her mother put an emphasis on that ‘food?’

“I’m hungry. I didn’t get breakfast.”

“I’ll bring you up a plate then.” Fiona went to leave the room but turned back when she was at the door. “It’s really too bad you two didn’t stay together. I always thought you and he were soul mates.”

Fiona softly closed the door behind her after delivering that sucker punch.

Soul mates?

Raven looked at Aidan. Maybe at one time they might have been destined. But no longer. People made choices that affected everything. Things too big to overcome. She couldn’t be with Aidan.

Not with the glacier that had formed between them.

C
HAPTER
F
IVE

Aidan groaned. His body shook, shivered with cold. Was he back in the trap? No, he felt the pillow under his head. Well, if he had a pillow, he had to be lying on a bed. Where the hell were the blankets?

Right, Raven had stolen them. She’d always stolen things from him. Gum he’d carried in his pocket, dessert left on his plate. His heart.

But she’d given that back, broken and bruised.

He cracked open an eye. The sun had risen but didn’t give him any idea of the time of day. It brightened the dreary view outside the windows. Snow continued to fall. He reached out a hand, feeling for the bedcovers and felt only sheets. He glanced around and found himself naked, except for his plaid boxers. Okay. That was new. He didn’t remember stripping down.

What else had he missed?

“You’re awake,” Raven said, entering the room from the bathroom carrying a towel over her arm and a large bowl of water. “How do you feel?”

“Cold.” He eyed the bowl of water. A memory teased the corners of his mind. Had they—no of course, they hadn’t. Raven wouldn’t allow him to touch her. She definitely wouldn’t have willingly touched him.