Page 72 of The Redemption of Remy St. Claire

“Remy, sweetheart, you need to wake up.”

She stirred but didn’t move.

He shook her gently.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. Her pupils were wide like a deer in the headlights. “I’m cold.”

“I know, let’s put on your shirt.”

“Will you warm me up?”

“Of course. We’ll put on your shirt and then—”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” She was now awake and shivering. “Will you use your body heat to warm me?”

How am I supposed to respond? What’s the right thing to do?

“Please.”

Her soft entreaty was his undoing. He stripped off his pajama shirt as he rounded the bed. He took the towel off her and then eased in next to her, pulling her to him then up against him. Her cold back was a shock against his chest, and he pulled up all the blankets to create a cocoon for the two of them.

She still shivered, and he hugged her, imprisoning her arms against her chest.

“Thank you.” A soft whisper.

“For warming you up? It was my fault you got cold. I was sure you’d put on your shirt and cuddle under the blankets.”

She shook her head. “I was so relaxed. Rumor was massages were amazing, but what you did…it was like magic.”

“And now it’s all been undone by the cold.”Damn it.

“No.” Her voice was still quiet. “That kind of magic never gets undone. Nothing can take away that memory.”

Well, shit.Her words shook him to the core. Never once had he considered he was creating a memory for her. Why was she so desperately in need of good ones? I don’t know my wife at all.

Chapter thirty-one

WarmthpulledRemyintoconsciousness inch by delicious inch.Warm. So warm. Safe. So safe.

And partly naked.

Memories of the night before flooded back to her. All the memories. The massage, the body heat, the safety. She’d asked Rusty to hold her without their tops on. Shouldn’t be a big deal, but she knew better. It was a very big deal.

His arm was secure around her waist, and his chest still nestled her back. He was his own heat source. Often he tossed off the blankets in the night, and although he wasn’t probably comfortable sleeping in pajamas, he did, for her sake. The shining example of propriety.

Maybe, after last night, she could let him know that it’d be okay for him to sleep without pajamas.

You’re getting ahead of yourself.

Murmurs outside the bedroom door let her know she wasn’t the only one awake. Extricating herself from her husband’s grasp, she donned her sweatshirt and tiptoed over to the door, opening it quietly.

Two little girls sat in front of the door, whispering back and forth.

“We didn’t make any noise.” Mira’s expression was the height of innocence. “We were quiet, just like we promised. But we were hungry.”

“Yeah, Remy, we were hungry,” Calleigh chimed in. She stared at the floor. “We’re sorry…”

“Sorry for what, Calleigh?”

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