Free Kidnapped by the Billionaire by Jackie Ashenden Page A

She’d started to shiver again and he realized that not only was the towel covering her damp, but his own T-shirt was wet through and she’d been resting against him.
    He couldn’t have said why he did what he did next, especially since there was no reason at all for it. Physical discomfort had never bothered him that much after all. Yet he pulled his wet and bloody T-shirt off over his head anyway and threw it on the floor. Then he unwrapped her from the towel and reached for the soft, dark blue blanket he’d given her the night before, tucking it firmly around her and covering up all her pale, golden skin.
    Then for another seemingly inexplicable reason, he pulled her into his lap again, letting her rest warmly against his bare chest.
    Shock must have kicked in, either that or the painkillers were starting to work, since she turned into him and curled up against him like a kitten.
    It was the strangest thing. He’d captured her, shot at her, kept her handcuffed nearly a whole day, threatened her with being locked in a dark room with no light and with starvation, and yet here she was, nestling into him like he was her protector or something.
    Had to be the drugs. Had to be.
    Her lashes were lowered, her gaze on his chest, and she was so fucking warm. It had been a long, long time since he’d just held a woman like this. A long time since he’d held a woman, period. Not since Marie.
    That goddamn stupid feeling in his chest shifted again, tightening.
    The light from the windows glinted in her golden lashes, in her damp hair. Such a pretty color, more silver gold than deep yellow, a kind of gilt. Her skin was very smooth and still way too pale. But it made her mouth look very full and very red. Like Snow White.
    Jesus. Why the fuck are you thinking about Snow White? What the hell is wrong with you?
    â€œI wanted you to take me to the hospital,” she said after a moment, her voice all sleepy and thick. “At least, that’s what you were supposed to do.”
    â€œYou really thought that would work?” Christ, his own voice was sounding a bit too rough for his liking. “You’re lucky you didn’t cut a tendon.”
    â€œThe nail scissors weren’t sharp enough.” She wrinkled her nose. “But they were all I could find.”
    â€œYou’re a silly little girl.” He tried to make it cold. “You don’t know what the hell you’re doing.”
    â€œI didn’t need to know. I just wanted to make it bad enough that you’d have to take me to the hospital.”
    â€œAnd you’d escape from there? Was that the idea?”
    â€œYep.” Her mouth curved. “Really screwed that one up, didn’t I?” She sighed, her body all warm and relaxed and heavy on him. “You’re hot. It’s nice.”
    Definitely the drugs.
    â€œYou’re a fool,” he said roughly.
    â€œYeah, I know. But the pain’s gone, it’s all good.” Violet raised her uninjured hand and before he realized what she was going to do, she touched the eagle on his chest, the stupid cliché of a tattoo he’d gotten in the dark weeks after he’d found out about Marie’s death.
    He went utterly still, shock ricocheting through him.
    Her hands were very gentle, her fingers tracing the lines of the eagle’s wings up to where it disappeared under the dressings of his gunshot wound, then down to the heart it held in its talons, then the few drops of blood dripping down his right pec. “This is interesting,” she murmured. “What does it mean?”
    And he found he couldn’t speak. Because it had been years, nearly an entire decade, since anyone had touched him like this. So lightly, gently. Sending shivers of … fuck  … was that heat chasing over his skin?
    Every muscle locked, his body going tight.
    No. Hell no. Where had this reaction come from? He’d stripped himself of every