She puts a trembling hand to her forehead, blocking me out. “I…the storm…” She curls in on herself, clutching her legs to her chest.

I can’t wait any longer. I sit next to her and draw her close. She’s covered in sweat and like a furnace in my arms. “It’s okay, Libs. I’m here.”

“Jesus.” She rests her clammy hand on my arm. “You’re soaked. And freezing.”

I secure my grip on her because she’s warm and soft, and, yes, I’m fucking freezing. But the truth is I need to hold her right now, need to feel the physical proof that she’s safe and solid.

“Don’t know if you noticed,” I say with false lightness, “but it’s raining cows and chickens out there.”

Her snort buffets my skin. “Cows and chickens?”

“This here is farm country, Libs,” I drawl. “Ain’t no cats and dogs filling these skies.”

I can feel her smile against my chest. “We’re more about produce than cows. Did you see any falling tomatoes?”

“I might’ve been slapped upside the head with some flying arugula. It was too windy to tell.”

As if to punctuate my words, a gust of wind slams into the windows, and the whole house seems to rattle.

Libby snuggles closer, and her warm hand smooths over my skin. “And you ran out into this veggie storm without getting dressed?”

“It sounded like you were being murdered,” I grumble. “What was I supposed to do?” Hell, I’m pretty sure I’d walk through fire to get to her if she screamed like that again.

“So you charged into a possible murder attempt armed with a guitar and naked.” She stiffens. “Are you naked? I can’t remember.”

“But you remember the guitar?”

“I thought you were going to brain me with it.”

“Nice. Some thanks I get for my mighty heroics.”

“Let’s focus on the important part here. Please tell me you aren’t naked.”

I grin. “I won’t tell you that.” I have on boxer-briefs, but it’s fun to tease.

Neither of us moves. Me, because I’m pretty much frozen solid. And Libby? Despite her professed fear of my nakedness, she wiggles against my side, like she’s antsy.

“You’re fighting the urge to look down and check, aren’t you?” I say in the dark. My dick stirs, like he knows he’s about to become a conversation piece and wants to look his best.

“I’ve already seen the goods, Kill.” So very deadpan.

I give her shoulder a squeeze. “Which means you know exactly how good they are.”

Well, not exactly. She’s seen me at my worst. My dick twitches again as if to protest this injustice and demand another viewing. I tell him to calm the fuck down; it’s not going to happen.

Already Libby is pulling away, her body stiff. “You should dry off. Your skin is like ice.”

“Yeah.” I run a hand through my wet hair. I’m shaking, which can’t be good. But I don’t want to go. I have to, though. I’m no longer needed. Swallowing back a sigh, I stand, noting the way she turns her head so she can’t see. Adorable. I know she wants to check. I fight a shiver. “I’ll let you get back to sleep then.”

“No,” her voice is almost a shout, and I halt.

She doesn’t look up, but her hand lifts, imploring me to stop. “Could you…I mean, you can dry off in my bathroom, maybe? And just…” She makes a choking sound. “I mean, it’s raining.”

A smile pulls at my lips. “You want me to stay, Lib?”

God, please let me stay. I’m so damn cold. And my bed is empty.

“Yeah,” she whispers.

I almost dive under the covers right then and there. But I can’t. “Libby, babe, I gotta be honest. I’m not naked, but all I have on are boxers. I might wake up with morning wood. Hell, I might get contact wood too.” I’m actually in danger of getting hard just being in bed with her. “I don’t want you kicking me in the nuts if I do.”

The corner of her cheek plumps on a grin. “Killian can’t control his dick. So noted.”

“Oh, I have excellent control. I am the master of—”

“Your teeth are chattering,” she butts in blandly. “Just dry off and get in the damn bed.”

She doesn’t have to say it twice. I hustle my ass into the bathroom and scrub myself down with a towel. Five seconds later, I’m sliding under the blankets and wrapping myself around warm, sweet Liberty.

 

Libby

 

Killian is ice cold when he gets into bed with me, and yet it’s all I can do not to fling myself against him. The night terror still sits upon my heart, sending tremors through my body. For the first time in years, I didn’t wake up and find myself alone in the dark. A lump swells in my throat at the thought of Killian charging into the storm, armed only with his beloved guitar.

At my side, he shivers and burrows under the blankets. I fight a smile as I help him cover up. His feet find mine, and I yelp.

“Crap, you are cold.” It’s no small thing to help warm the ice blocks his feet have become.

“Didn’t know how cold I was until you mentioned it,” he mutters, then sighs as I tuck the blanket around his neck.

I should be unnerved that he’s lying in bed with me, our noses almost touching. But I’m so glad he’s here that I can’t think of anything else. The storm is raging outside, each boom or crack making my back tense. But here, with Killian, I feel secure.

“I’m in love with your pillow,” he says conversationally. “Have I told you that?”

“No.” I fight to relax, but the tremors in my belly won’t die down. “Weirdo.”

He sighs again. “It’s just so fucking comfortable. Why is it so comfortable?”

“It’s a memory foam and gel pillow. I paid two hundred dollars for it. Don’t judge. My bed is my sanctuary.”

His eyes are dark stars in the night. “Why would I judge? I’m all for spending quality time in bed.” White teeth flash. “In fact, I’m going to order a case of these babies in the morning.”

I start to laugh, and then, to my horror, a sob bursts out.

“Hey,” he croons. “Hey, come here.”