Saving Kylie

He stared at her as she forced herself onto her elbows, though her eyes had yet to open. Thanks to the backwash from her headlights, he could see the shadow of a bruise darkening her cheek. One of many, he was sure. “Kylie, you could have a concussion. Or internal injuries.”

“Didn’t hit my head. Hold up your fucking fingers. I’ll count them.” With a furious exhale, she opened her eyes to glare at him. He couldn’t see her expression clearly, but impatience leaked from her lithe, vibrating body. “Well?” she demanded when he gazed at her stupidly.

Goddamn, she was so beautiful. Flakes clung to her cheeks and melted on her lips. She could be injured, perhaps badly, and all he could do was look at her as if he’d never seen a damn female before.

His cock came to life at the same instant as his mind threw up the one protest capable of shutting down his libido. Other than the possibility she could be seriously injured, that is

, which was more than weighty enough.

But persisto-cock persevered.

She probably makes love to her man every night. She’s happy. She’s fucking taken, got it?

No, he didn’t get it, because the fingers of the hand he’d gripped didn’t have any rings. Her commitment ring was gone.

“Justin?”

He set down his phone on his thigh and held up three fingers. Her health was what mattered now, not her availability. “How many?”

“Three,” she said, sounding almost smug. To his astonishment, she stumbled to her feet, though he had to jump up and steady her when she swayed. “See? I’m fine. A little wobbly, maybe, but with a hot bath and some rest, I’ll be good as—”

Her eyes closed again as he clamped his hands on her waist and brought her shivering body close to his, impressive hard-on aside. Even the cold didn’t seem to affect the damn thing. But she’d certainly been around guys with hard dicks before, and she was shaking so fiercely he was afraid she’d lose her balance.

“Whoa, dizzy.” She wet her lips. “Maybe I’m not fine.”

“Maybe not.” He glanced down at his phone lying in the snow, but made no move to reach for it. No way was he letting her go. “You should see a doctor.”

“No, I’ll be all right. I’ve hurt myself worse falling off a ladder.” She looked down pointedly between their bodies. “Besides, you’re hurting too, aren’t you?”

So much for avoiding erection detection. Cuddling her against him hadn’t exactly helped on that score.

He started to deny it. He wasn’t that guy. Sex ranked pretty high on his list of priorities, but he’d never be so crass as to put his wants—his extremely inappropriate wants—above his friend’s safety.

“I should get you home,” he said instead, only half-aware of his fingers digging into the soft, fleecy material of her pants. “If you refuse to seek medical attention, your boyfriend”—he almost choked on the word—“can take of you. I’m sure he’s worried.”

She let out a sound caught between a laugh and a hiss. “I really fucking doubt it.” Her gaze rose to his. “What about you? Can you take care of me?”

Before he could come up with an answer, she fisted her hands in the lapels of his jacket and jerked his mouth down to hers.

He didn’t react for a moment. Two. Hard to move away when what he hadn’t dared to want had come to him.

Finally.

Her lips were inferno hot, backed by enough purpose to have his rock-hard cock leaping. Before her tongue could slip into his mouth and rip away the last shred of his defenses, he gripped her shoulders and gently drew her back. “You must want Rob right now. Let me call him.”

“No.” Her blue eyes gleamed defiantly in the crisscrossing spill of light from their snowmobiles. “I don’t want Rob, Justin.”

What could he say? He wanted to lay her in the snow and pull down her fleecy pants to see if the rest of her was as soft and needy as her mouth. But he couldn’t. She was hurt, and they were standing around talking in the middle of a snowstorm when she needed medical attention.

“C’mon,” he said after a pause. He slipped the glove out of his pocket and put it on her bare, shaking hand. “Let’s get you looked at.”

Kylie whimpered and rolled onto her side, pushing her face down into the nubby material beneath her cheek. The fabric smelled faintly of detergent and strongly of Justin’s spicy soap. Yum. She burrowed into the pillow and drew her knees up to her chest, trying to ignore the pain slicing through her ankle. All she wanted to do was sleep. If she could drift back into the dark, she wouldn’t hurt anymore. She wouldn’t be alone, and today would never have happened.

“Sit up.” Justin’s gentle voice sounded near her ear, and his warm breath tickled her neck. A strong hip pressed against her backside a moment before she felt a cool glass bump her lips. “Time for more medicine.”

She didn’t protest as he urged her halfway into a sitting position. She sipped the potent liquid, already craving the burn that sped through her system. His hand cupped the back of her head, his broad, calloused palm steady and supportive.

He’d made her go to the ER anyway, which had turned out to be a smart idea. She’d twisted her ankle and had a multitude of contusions, but she didn’t have a concussion. They’d been ready to give her a prescription when she informed them she was allergic to most OTCs and painkillers, which left her with only one thing to use to numb the pain—alcohol.